Bittersweet
February 16th, 2005 by Sarin
If I don’t remember something… did it really happen?
If I wake up in my own bed, not knowing how I got there… continuing to ask how or who helped me get so wrapped tightly in my own bed when I have trouble remembering… Should I feel happy that someone took the time to put me to sleep the way I usually sleep? Do I feel happy that a good wake up call indicated a good night?
The light shined right through the curtains of my room on a Saturday morning. Having deep-blue-opaque-to the naked eye curtains doesn’t matter when your bedroom faces the east and 8:40 is the brightest the room will ever get without artificial light. I awoke in a cold sweat, feeling very good, refreshed like I slept for days. I rolled over to the side and saw JT and Tony all curled up in deep sleep. I got up slightly to take a look around. My eyes ponder over my puke stained sheets… an experience I’ve had one too many. Oh yeah, puking up chime is a goood night. Good night my ass.
How bittersweet.
It was the morning after my 22nd birthday party and I awoke with NO RECOLLECTION of events happening after 11:40. The last thing I remember is the second time I committed to puking. Apparently the first but not the last time I blacked out that night.
Because I’m such a whore for pain and endurance, after JT and Tony left for home, I got up expecting a headache. But it wasn’t there… (apparently some good men helped nurse me and fed me plenty of water). Usually every bad night creates an equal or exponentially worser morning. This wasn’t the case at all. I was coherent, alive, and had enough brain cells to do chinese math. If only I could wake up every morning feeling like I did that morning. But I could do without the whole morning after the party I don’t remember a damn thing should I apologize to everybody oh I hope my mom didn’t call me -vibe.
As far as that Friday (of Va Day Weekend) goes, I am very partial. I know I could have been more sober and enjoyed myself more often. A happy me means I remember people being happy. But no, poor timing and judgement costed me the whole night. And I paid the cost. And it wasn’t a 1:30am blackout, it was an 11:40 blackout. How mature. I’m sorry for those expecting more. Heck, I was expecting more out of myself.
To sum up the rest of the weekend, it was a three day chill drink fest. A weekend when one day I drink like a 6 yr old girl, and become invincible the next. A weekend where Phil funnels alcohol mix, puked in our bathroom and takes the first day off ever. A weekend where food was abundant, missing or late (yay TGI). A weekend where 4 grown college men declare the Red Hook tour a express power hour of beer that left us hungry for Wendy’s and their 20 cheeseburgers that we didn’t even want. A weekend where we took more videos than ever before. A weekend where our love of sports actually affected our drinking and congregation. A weekend where Scorpion Bowls were cool and uncool faster than William Hung. A weekend where humping a polar bear was cool. A weekend where Sunday was shorts day. A weekend that was just surreal.
So what do I think? It was just OK. I wish I was more sober to actually enjoy things, seen/meet more people, but you can’t expect everything. Overhypement on my part. If anything I will remember the thoughtful gifts I have received. While I tried subliminally to minimize the number of porno gifts, I still received two. However the gifts I received from the girls of 401(Katie, Laurens, Christine), Phil and Alicia (whenever I get my hands on it) made up for lack of me expecting anything big.
Girls, the Va scrapbook was probably the most flattering thing I have received in my life and will probably stay that way for a while. I am a complete sucker for displaying the correct emotions when receiving a gift (wait till you see my mom) but please know that I absolutely loved it! I appreciated the effort and that you guys are the few who can see past my superficial sense of humor. Don’t be jealous if I show it off! You guys touched me on this one. :-0
Phil, our exchanges of literature and novelty items over the years have been memorable. Coming from you, even a gag gift has meanings behind it. As far as 1000 Things to See Before You Die, I have nailed 7 in my lifetime, and maybe 4 or 5 more in passing… and maybe even more when I was back in Asia. I’m tempted to start checking off the whole book, but hey I’ll keep ya posted.
Once again, you guys/gals got me on this one. My heart spanks (thanks) you. Sorry for neglecting the blog, I was just exhausted from schoolwork and even life for the matter. But I got you guys to keep me back up.
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