Lord, Maybe I'm Not So Discouraged

I love massive nights. I probably love them more than the next guy. But I hate the feeling I get when they're over.

Do you remember back when you were young and you'd have some friends over for a sleepover? You'd probably try to stay up as late as you could, drink tons of soda, eat candy, watch movies, and play video games. I loved doing that. But the next morning, I'd feel utterly empty.

I've never been able to shake this feeling, regardless of what precedes it. In high school, I'd feel like that after big parties, football games, or dances. During college, it followed massive nights, house parties, birthday celebrations, and weekend excursions of epic proportions... often accompanied by an day long hangover. It's especially bad at critical life junctures, graduations, marriage, etc.

I had a massive weekend. A day long bachelor party left me sore, bruised, dehydrated, and sweaty. The drinking that followed left me exhausted (though, oddly enough, not hungover). I had a day of rest, followed by the best concert I can remember (and of course, drinking). But today when I got up I had no ambition, no drive to get up.

I envy people that can live even-keeled. Those people who can experience the best parts of life without feeling empty and hollow the next day. I'll never be one of those people. I'm doomed to live in boredom until that next massive night.

Those other people, they'll adjust well to a mundane existence as lawyers and government employees living out in the suburbs. They'll be content with their daily routine, maybe having a barbecue on the weekends or vacationing in Florida or the Rocky Mountains with their 2.5 kids and dog.

Maybe my pseudo-bipolar isn't so bad after all. Boredom and restlessness suck, but it makes the good times seem all that much better. I think I'd rather live in black and white than gray. I guess I have to stay positive.