Okay, now to point out a few important things:
1. I do not drink alcohol (and my reasons will come in another blog someday). I go to meet friends. I go to get my grove on.
2. I have never and will never do club drugs. Ugh, how unattractive and stupid.
3. I don't dress up to these things. I am the ONE girl in line in jean cut-offs, "The Who" t-shirt and my converse. I work it as if I were in a mini-dress and heels.
So where is this all going? Well, it just gives a bit of background to the rant/story I am about to share with you.
Saturday. DJ Kascade at the Vangaurd in Hollywood. Group of people invited me to tag along and I don't get out much so, you know, I got pretty worked up and excited--sweaty, ash-tray smelling, over-styled strangers that come up to my chin, grinding vulgarly into me while rollin' on E and desperately yelling for glow sticks--oh yes, I was stoked. No, but actually--it was the chance to hang out with friends. I lack friends in Los Angeles, so any chance to meet new ones is a chance I jump on. But alas--when the club promoter that had arranged for my safe entrance into the club met us out in front, we skipped the lines and I thought all was golden. Until, that is, the bouncer pulled the red rope, blocking my entry.
"It's a C note to get you in" The greasy little bouncer bowed his head my direction.
"A hundred bucks? Seriously dude?" I retorted, confused (not too confused...I mean, I am trying to get into a club...illegally. But not to DO anything illegal!). The club promoter was pulling me one way, the bouncer the other, meanwhile he refused to let Michael past unless he coughed up another 50$ and the whole thing was just getting ridiculous. I pulled my arms away from groping hands (by this time I managed to be on the club side of the red rope, but Michael was still on the street side) tripped ungracefully back over the red stupid rope, glared down the bouncer, regained my dignity, grabbed Michael and flipped my hair as I walked away from the crowd.
I thought I'd be all tough about it. But truth was, I was upset--I had looked forward to hanging out with a group of girls, a group of friends--even if I'm younger then them. It's someone(s). Clearly seeing I was upset, Michael stopped at Donut-Time, one of those always delectable, never too sanitary but conveniently open hole-in-the-wall ma-pa places. We got eight donuts. Glazed buttermilk is now my new favorite. Oh, pure heaven. We watched Ratatouille and I fell asleep slightly eased.
Lesson of the weekend? Honestly, I don't really have one. don't pay 100$ to get into a club. Eat comfort food instead. I guess--appreciate the little things. Life does not have to be filled with fancy clothes, trendy night clubs and expensive novelties--hell, expensive necessities! It's the stuff that falls between "planning" and "impressing" that actually becomes living. When things don't work out how you imagined, whatever else happens instead is just as much a miracle. Sometimes--I have trouble believing that...but at the end of the day--no one can affect how we perceive the world. It is our own. We see the world entirely unique from the next person. We see it how we want to. It's a stretch, but let it sit with you...But--that's just how I see my world, and like I said, everyone is different. Thank some all-powerful force for that.