This weekend was crazy in some ways, mellow in others. But overall a good one.
I qualified in the R&B/Jazz catagory of the Karaoke Contest. So now I’ve qualified in 2 catagories. The cool thing is that my BF qualified this weekend too! I sang “No More Drama” by Mary J. Blige and the BF sang “Hello” by Lionel Richie.
Yeah, my boyfriend is the fucking MAN!
Sunday was spent participating in some fundraisers for MS and Lupus. Mainly involving a lot of drinking, eating and buying raffle tickets. A LOT of fun, and made me feel good to know that what a little small thing I was doing is going to play a part in helping others. No word on the total tally for the fundraisers yet.
Other than that, I spent a bit of time on my own – sleeping, being lazy around the house. I did manage to do some cleaning, but that’s when I got fed up with being trapped in my head.
When I am alone for too long, I start to think back, and dwell on the What If?s of my life. Granted, most of them are not positive, so it’s more of a Thank God sort of feeling. However, there are some that are not so much negative as they are a big question mark. How would it have panned out? Most of the scenarios that I can imagine were pretty much guaranteed to end up badly. But where would I be living? What would I be doing? How would I be spending my time? There are aspects to my past, my incredibly fucked up past, that I miss. And that’s so incredibly lame and stupid of me, but I grab on to those moments and pine for them. The angst, the sadness, the crazy fun shit that I did, the simplicity. It’s hard to articulate, but there is a part of me that clings to what hurts me the most. I sugarcoat it and glamorize it and…(god, it’s killing me that I can’t remember the word for it right now, and I seriously just tweeted about it because I need WORDY HELP).
Hopefully you understand where I was going with that. But it’s like I’m addicted to digging it all up and just making myself so sad over it. Like the Smashing Pumpkins (ok, Billy Corgan really) said: “I’m in love with my sadness.”
It’s like, REALLY, self. You are almost 34. Get the fuck over it. Or maybe that’s part of the problem. Part of me is rejecting the fact that I am getting older and wants to rebel against the whole idea. It wants the once upon a time of my life back, instead of debt and dieting and trying to excel at my job.
Is it this hard for everyone to make that adjustment at this time of their lives? Is this my quarter-life crisis, even if it is about 10 years late?