Every time the new year rolls around, I have this hope that everything will renew itself. I end up believing that every problem or unsatisfactory situation will go away on it's own. It's a fairly naive notion, but somehow, every time the end of December rolls around, I get my hopes up once again.
This year, like each year before, I was let down. The same issues of 2014 have trickled into 2015.
What's worse: normally, the optimist in me still has hope that things will get better as the year continues...but this year that hope is missing and I'm at a loss of where to go from here.
(And if any song could describe how I've been feeling, it would be "Sailboat" by Ben Rector.)
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Monday, January 5, 2015
New Year, {god I hope this does not reflect the} New Me
My new year eve's are pretty low key. I normally stay home and countdown with friends. Maybe pop open some champagne and make a little noise, but nothing extravagant. This year was planned to be no different. One of my close friends came over, we opened a couple beers, and set out to catch up and bake until the countdown. I didn't want to go all out or stay up too late because I had an extremely early flight the next morning with my mom.
I'm not entirely sure how to explain this next part, because before I knew it, the two of us were getting ready to join a few friends in the city and ring in the new year at a party in Fort Mason. All I can say is that the idea of unlimited alcohol with the purchase of a ticket seemed to be all the convincing we needed in our already tipsy state.
Anyway, we get dolled up and go. We walk in, my feet already hurting because they're not used to heels like they used to be, and are in awe of the decor. There was a huge sandcastle, a recreation of the golden gate bridge, a giant stage with a DJ and a plastic dinosaur, and multiple bars with "free" booze! Not before long, my shoes came off, my alcohol intake spiked, and my inhibitions gone.
Between conversing with friends, drinking champagne, and dancing, I seemed to have lost my shoes. (I will insert now that these shoes did not make it home with me...they were probably found in the middle of the dance floor and thrown directly into a trash can.) The next thing I know, it's midnight, we're counting down, and...
Black.
I wake up to my mom scurrying around my room, trying to finish packing my suitcase, telling me that I need to get up. My hair is wet, dress is on the floor across the room, and a I have the horrible realization that I am still incredibly drunk.
Begrudgingly, I manage to get up, get myself dressed and get out the door. We arrive to the airport at 5am, check my mom's bag, and get into line for security. It wasn't until the TSA officer has my boarding pass, that I realize that I don't have my ID. I panic. I shoot an anxious look to my mom, apologize to the TSA officer, and pull off to the side, ripping through my purse to see if I stupidly placed it somewhere it didn't belong. I let out a "FUCK" when I remember that my friend was the one who had my ID, credit and debit card, and keys in her purse. Instantly, I start to cry. It was then that the supervisor was called. He asked me if I had anything else that had my name on it. Still crying, I pull out my gold member Starbucks card. (Apparently my drunken self didn't think to use my employment card, annual pass for disneyland, or insurance card...)
By some incredible miracle, and after a fairly intense round of questioning, I was let through security and ready to get on my flight. It wasn't until after my flight, when I needed to use the bathroom, that I became aware of just how drunk I still was that morning. I managed to put on my boots (with no socks), jeans (with no underwear), a top (with a bra I'm not even sure is mine), and make up that has lasted through a shower and about an hour of sleep. To say that I looked like the epitome of a bad night would have been an understatement.
The rest of the day was spent with nausea and a pounding headache...with my mother...in Disneyland.
(And for those of you wondering what happened in the time between midnight and the next morning: Apparently, I had some nice drunk text conversations with a few of my friends, took pictures of myself and the stage at the event, danced and made out with a cute stranger, got lost, then found, threw up, took an uber home, showered, and fell asleep around 3:30am.)
I'm not entirely sure how to explain this next part, because before I knew it, the two of us were getting ready to join a few friends in the city and ring in the new year at a party in Fort Mason. All I can say is that the idea of unlimited alcohol with the purchase of a ticket seemed to be all the convincing we needed in our already tipsy state.
Anyway, we get dolled up and go. We walk in, my feet already hurting because they're not used to heels like they used to be, and are in awe of the decor. There was a huge sandcastle, a recreation of the golden gate bridge, a giant stage with a DJ and a plastic dinosaur, and multiple bars with "free" booze! Not before long, my shoes came off, my alcohol intake spiked, and my inhibitions gone.
Between conversing with friends, drinking champagne, and dancing, I seemed to have lost my shoes. (I will insert now that these shoes did not make it home with me...they were probably found in the middle of the dance floor and thrown directly into a trash can.) The next thing I know, it's midnight, we're counting down, and...
Black.
I wake up to my mom scurrying around my room, trying to finish packing my suitcase, telling me that I need to get up. My hair is wet, dress is on the floor across the room, and a I have the horrible realization that I am still incredibly drunk.
Begrudgingly, I manage to get up, get myself dressed and get out the door. We arrive to the airport at 5am, check my mom's bag, and get into line for security. It wasn't until the TSA officer has my boarding pass, that I realize that I don't have my ID. I panic. I shoot an anxious look to my mom, apologize to the TSA officer, and pull off to the side, ripping through my purse to see if I stupidly placed it somewhere it didn't belong. I let out a "FUCK" when I remember that my friend was the one who had my ID, credit and debit card, and keys in her purse. Instantly, I start to cry. It was then that the supervisor was called. He asked me if I had anything else that had my name on it. Still crying, I pull out my gold member Starbucks card. (Apparently my drunken self didn't think to use my employment card, annual pass for disneyland, or insurance card...)
By some incredible miracle, and after a fairly intense round of questioning, I was let through security and ready to get on my flight. It wasn't until after my flight, when I needed to use the bathroom, that I became aware of just how drunk I still was that morning. I managed to put on my boots (with no socks), jeans (with no underwear), a top (with a bra I'm not even sure is mine), and make up that has lasted through a shower and about an hour of sleep. To say that I looked like the epitome of a bad night would have been an understatement.
The rest of the day was spent with nausea and a pounding headache...with my mother...in Disneyland.
(And for those of you wondering what happened in the time between midnight and the next morning: Apparently, I had some nice drunk text conversations with a few of my friends, took pictures of myself and the stage at the event, danced and made out with a cute stranger, got lost, then found, threw up, took an uber home, showered, and fell asleep around 3:30am.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)