Holy fuck, I hate parties.

Went to a party last night, which reminded me most painfully how I hate fucking parties. A bunch of uncontrolled drunken shirtless strangers, shooting fireworks out of their mouths and cavorting homo-erotically around a stripper pole… excuse me for not seeing the fun there. It probably didn’t help that I only knew about 10% of the people there, less and less as the night went on. And then I am in the corner having a political discussion with a stranger at 4 a.m. and thinking it’s the first interesting conversation I’ve had in the last hour. Everyone else is just rubbing up against each other sweatily and talking about how drunk they are and what a great party it is, and I do not get it at all. I suppose I should have just gone home – but since I have such an strange way of perceiving social events I am never sure if I should force myself to do these horrible-seeming things or not. Most things seem horrible and strange and upsetting to me at first, and then sometimes they get better. In retrospect, this particular thing was never going to become superbadgirl-friendly, and I should have cut my losses and run at 1:30 or 2:00 when most of the people I knew left. But I stuck it out, and learned a lesson.

In other news, I think I am going to have a party for my birthday. Surely I can’t hate a party at my own house, where I control the guest list, like I hate other parties – can I? Stay tuned.

Musings on Maturity

Just thinking tonight that it’s important to distinguish between keeping your heart young, and refusing to grow up.

Since I’ve never had a young heart, even when I was young, I have never worried about retaining any form of youthful exuberance. I don’t think people who ponder and fret the way that I do ever get to really experience the carefree times that we typically equate with youth. Worriers don’t take many chances. We don’t act spontaneously, we plan and we consider and then we do. So I’ve never been what you’d really call young at heart, or in spirit. I can perhaps lay claim to a rather juvenile sense of humor, and that’s about it.

But recently, in interacting with someone who is desperate not to lose this ephemeral “youth” thing I’ve heard tell of, I am coming to understand that – like everything else – you have to find a balance. A balance between feeling young, alive and carefree, and in finding your way to being an actual adult. You can’t give up maturity and consideration for other people in the mistaken belief that refusing to be responsible keeps you youthful. That doesn’t keep you young, that just makes you a middle-aged dipshit.

Being irresponsible, insisting that life is (or should be) a non-stop party, that’s not youth. Refusing to make future plans or consider other people, remaining unable to empathize with emotions that aren’t your own and behave accordingly – that’s not youth. It’s a self-involved perpetual adolescence. People shouldn’t live that way. You have to be able to find your happy in a way that ensures your own future and doesn’t disregard the happiness of the people you care about, and who care for you.

Claiming that the things you do are all in an effort to stay young isn’t some magical cop-out that makes you an exciting, more interesting person. It’s just an excuse to do whatever you want, whenever you want and to remain unable to form mature attachments, or care for yourself. And that’s not at all fun, that’s sad.

So maybe I am not the funnest chick in the world, and maybe I don’t act like I am fifteen. Maybe I don’t think that being irresponsible and doing dangerous things is hilarious. I don’t often act without consideration of the possible outcomes of my decisions, and my ability to experience spontaneity suffers for it, I know.  But then again, I have my shit together, I maintain my own home and care for myself, I pay my bills on time and I try my best to form meaningful relationships with other people. It’s not exciting or glamorous, but it’s got some integrity. Life is not a perpetual party. Maybe it should be. It would be nice to never have to think about anything, or consider consequences. But that’s not reality. My world sucks quite a bit of the time, but refusing to see it the way it is and respond to it on its own level, that’s not the answer.

Accept that you will never have 100% of the benefits of youth and 100% of the benefits of maturity all at the same time. And then go ahead and grow up. It hurts, but you can take it.