I spent the two last nights of the year on a merry romp through the past decade and a half of my life. Hooooo boy.
Wednesday was the annual New Years Eve Eve party hosted by our high school drama teacher. It's as close to a school reunion as I would ever wish to attend, and even then I was dubious. But from the moment I walked in, I felt a warm familiarity creep into my bones. TJ was still TJ. Adam was as Adamesque as ever, and the only thing to change about Paul was him coming out of the closet(the glass closet, I might add, so no shock). And among my dear old friends, there was a great recounting of old times, including a few out of hand parties at my house.
Which we really could've skipped, but hey. Nostalgia.
At one point, Paul(who I hadn't seen in seven years, which really factors in here) turns to me and says "You know, I still tell people about you." To which I replied "Huh?" because let's face it, if someone is talking about you seven years later, you probably fucked up in a memorable way. Then he says, "I tell them that yours was the only party I ever got invited to, because you've always been then person that remembers the people no one else does."
Oh, my heart. For a moment, I forgot all about wanting to carve his eyes out with a spoon and that he had just a few moments ago insinuated that I was in love with Adam. It struck me in a deep place.
The rest of the night went so well. I heard Purple Passion and Purple Gorilla, as told by the almighty one himself. There was crab dip, and theatre talk. It was good.
I didn't get home until 5am, but it was worth it. I had enough time to catch a few hours of sleep, wake up, and go wash a few vans. That had been the pattern of the week, really-wake up, put in an hour or two of van cleaning(interspersed with the muse bringing me coffee and teaching me things about wood((ha)). Yesterday was no different aside from me being the one that showed up with coffee.
Every year, friends of myself and Tony throw a big New Year's Eve party and for the past three years, I haven't gone. Don't get me wrong, it's a good time and all, but it's not my sort of thing anymore. I just can't drink with reckless abandon, and my anxiety started to kick in before I even left the house.
At this point, I could've stayed home and brought in the new year playing video games. I was quite tempted to. But Tony had halfway begged me to come, so I started psyching myself up.And I had this deep and sudden revelation. I am Crump.
In my prime, I was a bit like a celebrity(which sounds conceited, I know, but no less true). I had a standing invitation to every party(still do). When people were getting a little out of hand, I was the one to give them a talking-to. The couch for people to crash on. I was the advice-giver, the guru, the provider, the bailer-outer when things got rough.
Trying to explain the relationship I had with this little flock of people is difficult. I sound like a drunk with a messiah complex, but it's the best I can do. I was probably the most solid pillar most of these people had.
So recalling this, I geared up for the party. And when I arrived, there arose a great cheer and a procession of greeters. It was a bit... whelming.
The night was certainly a throwback to the old days. My wisdom was sought, my attention was vied for, my presence was demanded in the future. Drunk people shot fireworks off. My boobs were grabbed several times(all by females, thank goodness). It was some damn good revelry.
Really, the only bad part of the night came when the mother of one of these sinful sots(it's a whole family and it would take far too long to explain all of the ties), got a little too drunk and called me out for being down on myself. Ok, yes, I'm not exactly in love with myself. Who is? I try to keep it under wraps, but I guess when you look like I do people just sort of know. And she made me pinkie promise to call or text her next time I was feeling down about myself. And I did it, because I know that no good comes from saying no to a drunk woman. Internally? I was pissed.
What exactly do you think you're going to do for me? Are you going to tell me how great I am, how beautiful and intelligent and kind? Do you think that'll just wipe away alllllll my problems and insecurities? What sort of magic words are you going to say that are going to make it all better? I know my strengths, and I know my weaknesses. I know the things I like about myself, and the things I don't. You're not going to fix the things I don't like with a few placating texts. Sorry about it(end rant).
Later that night I tried to slip away and go home in my usual style(read: without saying goodbye to anyone). Which probably would've worked pretty well if I hadn't ended up half in a ditch and needed a handful of people to sit on my trunk and give me the leverage I needed to escape. I made it home and crawled into bed, thinking off all the things from the past that had been brought up in the 48 hours previous.
The things that I seem to have always been-a rememberer, a pillar-those are things that I should still strive to be. And the things I have done-slipping out of contact, mostly-are still things I do that I shouldn't. For all the ways I've grown as a person, the core elements are still there, and they might always be. There's a lyric from Pearl Jam that floated into my head just before sleep took totally over: Everything has changed, absolutely nothing's changed.
Hello, 2016. Do your best, do your worst, and I'll do mine.
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