... notebook nightlife, night one ...

... notebook nightlife, night one. a delayed post.

from the mixed-up files of miss victoria. dated thursday evening/friday morning.

i am thankful:

for technicolor sunsets – driving from the rose and purple sky of southern vermont towards the orange, gold and teal in the north, glowing against the fluffy lilac clouds.

for the sensation of driving with the windows down, hair blown back by the wind while singing along to jason mraz (albeit very badly) at the top of my lungs.

for the way thursday nights are always accompanied by anticipation of the coming weekend and all it may hold in store.

for french vanilla iced coffee.

for pint glasses of vodka cranberry for $4.75.

for the memories evoked simply by walking into a long-familiar club after a long absence.

from here to there to back again

higher ground always has such an eclectic mix of patrons – the clubby types, trendy in their black pants and one-shoulder tank tops. the college crowd, exuding confidence and independence while gazing forlornly at the bar, only an unobtainable bracelet away. the indie rock types – carefully groomed to look like they don’t give a damn about their appearance – it’s all about the music, man. the stereotypical burlington crowd – lack-back quasi- or full-blown hippies who are content hacky-sacking outdoors or dancing alone to the house music inside. the token members of the older crowd – unwillingly-retired members of one or more of the aforementioned groups, hoping to cling to youth by keeping in touch with “the scene.”

this mishmash of people exists in contentment , mutual understanding and respect – by appearance, anyway. all the while, they are discussing the others in their respective circles. yet even this is clear, known and, in fact, expected by all, adding to the overall sense of calm, peaceful cohabitation.

it’s a scene that shaped and molded my collegiate mind – welcoming me into the music world and introducing me to the dimly lit, smoky scene i’ve come to love. it is what it is and there is no desire to change or impress – i feel like i’m back home, contentedly writing on a small notepad, documenting sensations and observations while i wait for the lights to dim and the band to take the stage.

the irish eyes, they are a-smilin’

tonight i had one of those potentially painfully awkward encounters you always half-dread. i ran into a guy i had a horrible crush on during college. the crush turned out to be a quite sour experience – a friendship was damaged and i, admittedly, handled it in an extremely juvenile manner. i did what i always do when i’m upset, confused or angry – i wrote. only this time, i shared it with the subject of that writing. my pen dripping with indignation, i wrote him a scathing letter, basically telling him he was a) a fool and b) an asshole. theraputic actions, some may say – and i would agree. but then i was foolish enough to give him the letter when he stopped by my house one evening, complete with instructions to not read it until he left.

a ridiculous thing to do and quite uncharacteristic of me (normally, i’d never let anyone read such writing, let alone give it to the person who inspired such rantings). shortly thereafter, he graduated – a semester earlier than the rest of the class – and i always regretted never apologizing for subjecting him to such a verbal attack. whether or not he warranted it remained up for debate.

as i waited for the show tonight to begin, jotting down observations on my notepad, i saw him walk in. my first reaction was one of delight, happiness over seeing a familiar face after some time. i was prepared to call out to him before remembering that our last interaction had been so bitter. after a quick internal debate, i decided to forget the negative aspects of our history and focus instead on the many good times we had shared. i called out and greeted him with a hug.

the customary small talk and catching up ensued and all the while, i cursed myself for the moment of reckless abandon i felt nearly two years ago. but then he was his customarily gracious self – in fact, his customarily gracious-almost-to-the-point-of-insincerity self. part of me wanted to take the opportunity to finally apologize but hesitated, not wanting to bring up such an awkward topic of conversation and also realizing that i no longer felt a complete sense of guilt for saying what i felt at the time i needed to say. we parted ways, telling each other we’d meet back up shortly, neither of us making any effort to do so.

i left the conversation feeling glad to have seen him, somewhat guilty for still not apologizing, but overall, more certain that he had needed to get an observation of his flaws. and mildly exasperated over the fact that he seemed to be just how he was the last time i had seen him. i suppose my reactions demonstrated that while i’ve grown in leaps and bounds over the past two years, i haven’t at the same time.

i guess this is my way of saying that it was good to see him and i half-apologize. the half is for letting see my vulnerable side and some weakness of character. but i stand by the strength and conviction of the words i shared with him.

i just never should have shared them with him in the first place.

but i did – another thing i can chalk up to being 21 and naive, thinking i was enamored.

such is life.

before this encounter, i overheard a group of girls talking at a table near my comfortable couch, discussing which floor of linnehan they were living on this year. instantly, i was transported back to sophomore year, visiting michelle in the same dorm. i was relaxing on her couch with mike, his arm around my waist as i recalled the bitter events of my day, emphasizing just how frustrated i was by placing my head forlornly on his shoulder, seeking the comfort and reassurement that followed with kisses and a backrub – just as soothing as i hoped they would be. a perfect moment of being in what i thought for a few fleeting weeks could grow into love, unsoiled by the unforseen events that were to follow.

god, it’s amazing how a drink and the return to a college-days haunt can unleash the floodgates of my memory ...

ah, and one more thing i am thankful for:

realizing it is fast approaching three o’clock in the morning, i have four and a half hours until i am supposed to wake up, six hours until i am expected to punch on for work and two more evenings of nightlife to cover. it’s tiring – but to be able to look at this as a job is an incredible sensation – one i’m not quite sure i deserve, but one i’ll happily accept and adopt as the norm if given the opportunity.