"Disco Round"

I just came back from a night in the bar district with a group of unusuals, and by that I mean the groups of people who usually hang out with one another disappeared and a group of us, who hang out either one on one or not together, went out. It was a lovely experience to see us all bonding in untraditional ways.

First, we went to Honey, then we hit up The Key (a classy name, I know) and listened to a live band play the same tired-ass songs they always play. The I hung out with Jade and Martin (Kentucky) for a hot minute and went with them to K.K....then back to The Key (now filled with whack as foreigners*). After that, some of us went back to K.K....and then back to Honey...and then to K.K. again, deciding finally to finish off the night around 2am when people's dreams were crushed, and my legs were killing me.

*sidenote: Any foreigner who goes abroad instantly becomes cool solely because he or she is novel. If you're typically ugly or untalented or boring or a rapist/psycho, going abroad can lift your level of coolness dramatically. Foreigners who come abroad for the first time think that they have finally come to the promised land, to a place where they really belong, because even strangers will come up to them and tell them how special they are. Foreigners then get a big head and become Supermen and women, devoid of any of the traditional values they once possessed. However, sadly, once they return to their home countries, they realize that their time abroad, which is not their true reality, is gone. They must go back to being dorks. This is especially true for middle-aged portly men (we're not talking about the sexy old dudes--no!), and geeks who don't have the same sense God gave to a lightbulb. I must admit, unfortunately, that I too suffered from this Hero Abroad Syndrome (HAS...been?) when I came back from Beijing last summer--I'm not nearly as great of a Chinese speaker or dancer as people tell me I am, although I'm better than the rest ^_^. Anyway...

So, the monotany of the night serves as an analogy for my life. I do the same things all the time, and even though I try to switch it up, shuffled-up shit is still the same things as dried-up-like-a-raison-in-the-sun shit--shit. I need some variety or I'll find myself in different phases of the same predicament, especially ones that can hold me back from my true potential. All the clubs are the same, and all my preoccupations are the same. So, instead of chasing around a possibility that couldn't possibly have existed, I got my friends to go home with me, and got my black ass in the bed where it belonged.

Tomorrow night, the night before my birthday, I plan to do something I've never done before. With that said, if I die from it, please tell my mom that I love her.