Going Out
My mom says I am a home-body, and I often fear she is right.
I make great efforts, however to go out. To do things with the people I adore, to take walks with Penny, to get on over to the gym that keeps smirking at me when I drive past it. In fact, though, I do love my days at home, cleaning, baking, searching for ghosts of boyfriends and friends past on Facebook to see if they are just as I remember them.
But once upon a time you couldn't keep me inside. I lived for going out.
I went to my first 18 and over club when I was 14. I had my sister's I.D. and I prayed the front doorman wouldn't engage me in any conversation since my mouth was full of shiny metal braces, and my sister's teeth were a perfect pearly white.
My heart was pounding for fear I would be found out, but as it were I got in, and I danced to my hearts desire with folks who were in fact 18 and over. I thought I was pretty clever.
And at 18 I was out. Always out. Tuesday nights at Metro, Wednesday nights at Rox Club, Thursday nights at Twins, Friday nights at the InCahoots.... and a major night out was when we would go to a club in Orange County. Driving in our parents' cars jamming to music and loving every single minute of our young adult lives.
It was hard to contain all of our thrills. And all who knew me then knew I could just dance.... and dance.... and dance. I loved the energy of the people. I loved giggling with my girlfriends.
And at 19 I was in Spain, dancing the nights away in Salamanca, Segovia, Barcelona....
and on other worldly travels you couldn't put it past me to go to a club on my own. Because I just loved to dance... and dance... and dance... I loved the energy of the people. I loved being somewhere new and uncertain.
And anyone who says 21 isn't all that it's cracked up to be never really lived 21. There is something about finding yourself among 20 and 30 somethings. They seem so much wiser, and they don't dance quite as enthusiastically. But that was okay because they were just so cool and my driver's license made me cool, too.
And perhaps for many it is much ado about nothing. For me it was something. To be naive. To look forward to every night with such gusto. To hear a favorite song and throw up your arms and say "I LOVE THIS SONG!" which, now, looks so silly to me. I could never give enough gratitude for the life I have now thanks to growing up slowly. I often look at my niece, now 18, and look at her eyes sparkle when she talks about going out. And one by one, her and her friends will spill out of her room ready for a night on the town. They look like clones. The same hairstyle, same boots, same black eyeliner.... and I can't help but smile and feel so excited for her. Because while it is just another night to so many, for her it is a night to giggle with her girlfriends, to be young, and to dance.... and dance.... and dance....
And perhaps I have just about danced my heart out. And all of that dancing energy is put into vacuuming and dusting, and writing this here blog. And I will, every once in a while, have a fond memory of those times with girlfriends and be so thankful for those memories of my youth. Silly girls giggling, and dancing..... dancing... dancing....
I make great efforts, however to go out. To do things with the people I adore, to take walks with Penny, to get on over to the gym that keeps smirking at me when I drive past it. In fact, though, I do love my days at home, cleaning, baking, searching for ghosts of boyfriends and friends past on Facebook to see if they are just as I remember them.
But once upon a time you couldn't keep me inside. I lived for going out.
I went to my first 18 and over club when I was 14. I had my sister's I.D. and I prayed the front doorman wouldn't engage me in any conversation since my mouth was full of shiny metal braces, and my sister's teeth were a perfect pearly white.
My heart was pounding for fear I would be found out, but as it were I got in, and I danced to my hearts desire with folks who were in fact 18 and over. I thought I was pretty clever.
And at 18 I was out. Always out. Tuesday nights at Metro, Wednesday nights at Rox Club, Thursday nights at Twins, Friday nights at the InCahoots.... and a major night out was when we would go to a club in Orange County. Driving in our parents' cars jamming to music and loving every single minute of our young adult lives.
It was hard to contain all of our thrills. And all who knew me then knew I could just dance.... and dance.... and dance. I loved the energy of the people. I loved giggling with my girlfriends.
And at 19 I was in Spain, dancing the nights away in Salamanca, Segovia, Barcelona....
and on other worldly travels you couldn't put it past me to go to a club on my own. Because I just loved to dance... and dance... and dance... I loved the energy of the people. I loved being somewhere new and uncertain.
And anyone who says 21 isn't all that it's cracked up to be never really lived 21. There is something about finding yourself among 20 and 30 somethings. They seem so much wiser, and they don't dance quite as enthusiastically. But that was okay because they were just so cool and my driver's license made me cool, too.
And perhaps for many it is much ado about nothing. For me it was something. To be naive. To look forward to every night with such gusto. To hear a favorite song and throw up your arms and say "I LOVE THIS SONG!" which, now, looks so silly to me. I could never give enough gratitude for the life I have now thanks to growing up slowly. I often look at my niece, now 18, and look at her eyes sparkle when she talks about going out. And one by one, her and her friends will spill out of her room ready for a night on the town. They look like clones. The same hairstyle, same boots, same black eyeliner.... and I can't help but smile and feel so excited for her. Because while it is just another night to so many, for her it is a night to giggle with her girlfriends, to be young, and to dance.... and dance.... and dance....
And perhaps I have just about danced my heart out. And all of that dancing energy is put into vacuuming and dusting, and writing this here blog. And I will, every once in a while, have a fond memory of those times with girlfriends and be so thankful for those memories of my youth. Silly girls giggling, and dancing..... dancing... dancing....
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