Tuesday, October 9, 2012

It's time to give in

If you judge me purely by my Facebook photos (which is how most of my friends know me), then to you I am 100% unabashedly a party girl. I get dolled up, skip lines (do a few lines?), get drunk, dance on tables, fall down and wake up with inexplicable bruises all over my body. This past weekends bruise count is 5 with one on my upper left thigh. The last time I had a bruise that gnarly and purple was when I jumped off a cliff off the British Virgin Islands and landed completely skewed. But I digress.

For years I've been telling everyone, every chance that I get, vehemently, that I am not a party girl. I am an introvert who enjoys reading books (too many books), writing, obscure films, hot tea, kittens, and my bed. Given a choice between going out or staying in to read, I always choose the latter. But I haven't. So how do we reconcile this?

We reconcile this by accepting that We will always been misunderstood. I will always be that crazy party girl to some and that passionate writer to others. Lately I've been sort of an overachiever at school so we can add that to the list, too. I am both dancing drunken sprite and blundering introspect who feels way too much for her own good, who tries as she might to stop waxing poignancy at every turn will always find beauty and depth in the deepest shadows. That's meeee.

So there you have it. I have a taste for foie gras, Louboutin, and Proust. I like hot baths, wool cable knits, long drags from blunts and all the good party favors. We do what we have to to balance ourselves out. Too much of one thing is probably not a good thing. But there's the rub, I am too much of everything of opposite extremes. That's probably my version of "moderation."

So far so good, though. I've been enjoying every sinful night out and in.

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