So over this intuitive thing

I'm standing on the dance floor, looking up and over at the stage when I start to feel my weight shift onto one foot.

My head starts to tilt shortly thereafter.

Next thing I know, I'm peering up at the stage with a thinly veiled expression of puzzlement on my face.

Huh.

It is a fundamentally strong performance. The instrumentation is tight. I know that I dig the material. The vocals are on, the audio levels and mix sound just about right...

And yet my instincts are nagging at me. Attempts to ignore are proving futile -- and dulling them with another pint of pumpkin ale certainly didn't work.

Something is off, and now I'm busy dividing my time between second-guessing myself and enjoying the set.

It's been a fun night, the random kind of evening that only seems to unfold at Milly's. The assemblage for this particular gathering includes more circles than usual, but it's been cool -- the friends coming together to laugh and converse are actually in the same place for the first time in at least a few months. A couple of guys with whom friends had been chatting wound up leading my friends in a blush-enducing toast "to blogs!" The New Hampshire equivalent of Turtle on "Entourage" was on the prowl, an encounter that prompted me to flip over my cladagh ring and joke with N and M about which of the boys would be game in pretending to be my boyfriend for the evening. There were warm hugs, kisses on the cheeks, introductions, playful banter and high-fives galore -- as well as a text message or two to folks that we wished could have made it out for the night.

And, true to form, the Soundguy Complex has already made itself evident, peppering TC's set with feedback and frustration, both onstage and off.

It's Milly's. It's how that place rolls and I long ago grew accustomed to it.

There are new friends, old friends, those acquaintances who happen to fall somewhere in between...and tonight a person or two to whom I am thinking of walking over to introduce myself and say hello. I hold off, however, cognizant of the potential awkwardness that could follow a "Hi, we know a bunch of the same people, I'm pretty sure we each know who the other is and we've both attended a number of these shindigs. How about I just say hello already?"

So for the moment I'm focused on feeling relaxed and content, standing with dear friends, listening to much-loved music performed by the friends I will be sure to hug at least once more before evening's end...

...and I can't shift that weight off my foot, get that little voice out of my head that's inquiring as to what precisely is wrong.

I hate that voice.