Monday, August 4, 2008

Weekend Out - Third Stage

Mental Rehab Post #10
Still not that crazy about weekends. Long periods of being alone...I hate being alone...combined with my own irrational and self deprecating thoughts and loads of bad television do not a fun time make. Someone asked what are you doing about being alone once, but that implies a friend or love can just be acquired or had like a garden rake or trip to the mall. Maybe for some, but for me it ain't that easy. Just like I don't want to be used, I'm not gonna just use somebody to make me feel better. Which brings me back to maybe I'm just too much of a nice guy?

Friday. So Friday I'm to attend a going away drop in for a departing co-worker. In a bad economy, in a more or less economic resistant business sector, it's apparently so "culturally bad" here my fellow employees still flee into the darkness rather stay at what is fast returning to the "plantation". A relatively safe and still hiring plantation, but a plantation nonetheless.

That's what I first called it when I got there, where I noted that among the throngs of employees that in a company roughly 60% African American that there was no non-white management on any level. Any level. But that the African Americans seemed to have the key responsibilities. But this place paid better than my old company, and I do enjoy eating AND paying bills. They have a few now...five years later, but there are still some shenanigans afoot.

So Friday to celebrate her departure we all revisited an old haunt that three years ago was overwhelmed with business every Friday night: the venerable Dave and Busters in Marietta. Why that stopped is story for another day. I hadn't been in ages. But I showed up as I hadn't been to a in some way company related function in probably the same amount of time, and I didn't want to look too anti-social. Looking back on that evening, anti-social might not have been my worst option.

First, I'm a little beyond D&B's right now. Anyplace that serves alcohol at a bar and allows other people's kids is already questionable in my book, and since the little ones seemed to racing around with reckless abandon, I wasn't really feeling it. So that's why I stopped coming to this place. Oh-kay then, right. My co-workers had taken a spot on the Midway Bar, and had begun sipping and chatting in earnest. I joined them in a slightly more subdued fashion.

There were in my opinion three highlights:
A) A woman bought me a drink. It doesn't seem like much, but from the land of freebies and hookups, somebody going into their pocket to get me is kind of a big deal. Especially a woman. That's a short list.
B) A brief conversation momentarily excited me, then scared me and then oddly comforted me. No, no details.
C) Somebody had to take the tipsy one home, and that doesn't mean me.

The tipsy one. So one of the every growing party, maybe some twenty folks strong, gets a little tipsy. Okay a lot tipsy. At one point she suggested one of the guys just "grab some ass" to get his point across, then bent over so he could get a good handful. She proclaimed her love for a number of gentlemen in a loud boisterous voice. A lot of hugs were given. One or two lively conversations were sparked. Then we decided perhaps it was time for her to go, but nobody was really ready to "go there." Someone suggested I should take her home. The look on my face at the very suggestion elicted a round of hearty laughter. I suggested that so as to not appear improper, that a couple should bear the duty. The statement "she's not our type" only now comes to memory. Funny statement.

So we all looked at one another as she danced about the bar area, attempting to steal drinks when the bar stopped serving her. Draftees were engaged. A few rounds of "not only no, but hell no" were heard. I made suggestion we take up money for cab fare and a few extra dollars as payment for the entertainment provided. That was voted down. The person who lived across the street from tipsy girl declined to take her home. It was implored that in her current state only a woman could be trusted with the action. The women thought we were nuts. The manager suggested that she be escorted out.

I'll end this by saying that today at work she appears none the worse for wear.

Saturday. Well I was supposed to do so much on Saturday. I had no groceries so I was supposed to take care of that, then some housewares, then clean up, then some computer work, then this cookout. My total travels on Saturday equaled a trip to the gas station.

Well, I wasted most of the day on cartoons and self pity. Then just as thinking about planning to start getting around to maybe doing something the rains came. And came. And shortly after that, the power went out. No big, it never stays out that long so I chill. The storm actually helps out with the heat, I get a chance to do some uninterrupted law school reading and burn some of my cool scented candles.

So then party time comes around, the home alarm is on a battery, so I'm like what the hell, let's go see what's up. Slim calls and says the lights are on at her spot and she got people falling through as well as my other function. So yeah, get out and see some folks.

The thing about living in an area "in transition" is that it's an area "in transition." In most neighborhoods, during a blackout folks stay home. In my neighborhood, somebody decided lighting firecrackers would be most ripping. Somebody else decided to have what was apparently a cookout. Music and hollering and all that. I'm like whatever, so I cold shower, get dressed and roll out. As I turned off my street I was surprised to see groups of folks wandering in the dark. Multiple groups. In pitch black streets out wandering. Just wandering.

It was right about then that I decided that maybe I should just find the first place with the lights on, get a drink and head on back to the house. Chill. Till the lights came back on. They didn't jump back on till one in the morning. Candles looked nice though. So Saturday was a bust mostly.

was even more wasted. Okay, I bought a new watch and did the grocery shopping, got the grass cut and saw a touch of the city, but I did it alone. That and I'm still spotting places I hadn't seen before and in my mind going "we need to pop in there and check that out" right before reality hits me. Then I got my football appetizer the Hall of Fame Game on NBC, which just happened to showcase Sporty's favorite team.

Gee, thanks God for all these reminders. I fucked up. I know this. You can ease up anytime.

It's been a minute and everyday it seems a little harder rather than a little easier. Suddenly Law School and it's all consuming concept doesn't seem so bad, as it at least it should speed the process to getting to whatever's next. Or make it all I think about in the few free hours I have. We'll find out shortly.

Barkeep...I dunno, something brown.

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