Ugh...am not feeling so good this morning.
I consider myself a pretty self aware human being. Except perhaps when I'm watching tv, rushing to meet a deadline and talking to certain members of my family. But being the perfectionist I don't want to be, seeing myself in the act of doing things I should not do, that I know will make me feel sick the next morning, I want to kick myself watching myself do it anyway. I also scold myself for wanting to kick myself. Can I give myself a break, please? No kicking, though. Course a part of me wonders, if I had nothing left to shed, if I reached Eckert Tolle-hood, what would I do then? Yes I am not where I want to be yet but do I really want to go there anyway? Or as E.T. might put it, yes, despite all this spiritual work my ego is as strong as ever and here it is telling me how boring my life would be without it.
Anyway, last night (Gold Dust Lounge, some Irish place w/karaoke, Swig, Caffeine) feeling vulnerable and not so fabulous for reasons I won't go into I had two beers plus half a lemon drop, all after a light supper. Hence, this morning I wake up feeling like my insides are being wrung dry and I have to force myself out of bed to gulp down half a liter of water.
That's not the only reason I'm feeling less than good (i.e. heaven worthy) this morning.
Earlier yesterday I saw Steve Harvey on Oprah talking about his new book Think Like a Lady, Act Like a Man. He said we women are the ones leading the male/female dance. And yet we keep handing the keys over to the guy (sorry to mix metaphors) because we believe there's not enough nice men out there. Men know this, he said. And they play on this to their advantage.
So I told my friend L. about S.H.'s book and we discussed how it applies to certain recent events. I also thought about it as the night progressed. A clubbing bar/hopping night out to me means dancing, the comfort of friendship, meeting new possible friends and maybe having a funny story to tell the next day. It means enjoying really fun music and shedding some of the week's stresses. Neither of us do it that often but we've made a commitment recently to enjoy ourselves sociably as much as possible because 1. we like fun. 2. we want to see what might happen. And 3. meeting and falling in love with a great guy is less likely to happen when all we do is work, go home and see the same group of people week after week. Neither of us is good at flirting either so going to nightclubs is basically an all around challenge, opportunity and growth experience.
A night out for me is not hooking up with some random guy for the sort of night I could never let my right wing relatives hear about. (Being the four bads = artist, democrat, unmarried, infrequent church goer, some of them already see me as wild and unsaveable. Sweet, talks to God each night me.)
In other words I know what I want. I know what'll work for me. And from time to time I would think of this inner list along with what Steve Harvey said (as well as, unfortunately, how well I can dance when pickled) as I talked and danced with one guy after another last night. (Oo la la, quelle hottie est moi.) Five in all, but out of those five only one was truly fun to dance with. He could lead, he could be lead, he did not touch except when leading or being lead, he had no ulterior motive except to have fun dancing. I could fall in love with him. (No, not really. But with that kind of attitude, yes.) What made dancing with the others not as much fun was having to push them time and again away from me as they tried to bump and grind their way into my benefits. I don't remember this when I used to frequent clubs more often in college. Maybe because, with the 70's and 80's music my friends and I preferred, dirty dancing was not the norm. So when I first found myself being bumped and grinded I was at first amused. Then annoyed, and I tried various ways of enforcing my boundaries (i.e leading the dance a la Harvey). Finally I had to go outside for air (and space). I wanted to go home. I wished the fun to dance with guy was still here. I regretted not enforcing my boundaries immediately instead of eventually. Back on the dance floor the wants-only-to-please girl had fleetingly replaced the woman I've become and this frightened me a little. Ah well, next time, next opportunity, next learning experience.
Lesson learned: I should not drink and dance. I should meditate until I feel calm and brave instead. And if I fail in that I'll keep my buddies close, choose my dance partners carefully and forgive myself the next morning. But I will not stop dancing because I want to live life fully, joyfully and fearlessly.
In short: I will not stop dancing.
I consider myself a pretty self aware human being. Except perhaps when I'm watching tv, rushing to meet a deadline and talking to certain members of my family. But being the perfectionist I don't want to be, seeing myself in the act of doing things I should not do, that I know will make me feel sick the next morning, I want to kick myself watching myself do it anyway. I also scold myself for wanting to kick myself. Can I give myself a break, please? No kicking, though. Course a part of me wonders, if I had nothing left to shed, if I reached Eckert Tolle-hood, what would I do then? Yes I am not where I want to be yet but do I really want to go there anyway? Or as E.T. might put it, yes, despite all this spiritual work my ego is as strong as ever and here it is telling me how boring my life would be without it.
Anyway, last night (Gold Dust Lounge, some Irish place w/karaoke, Swig, Caffeine) feeling vulnerable and not so fabulous for reasons I won't go into I had two beers plus half a lemon drop, all after a light supper. Hence, this morning I wake up feeling like my insides are being wrung dry and I have to force myself out of bed to gulp down half a liter of water.
That's not the only reason I'm feeling less than good (i.e. heaven worthy) this morning.
Earlier yesterday I saw Steve Harvey on Oprah talking about his new book Think Like a Lady, Act Like a Man. He said we women are the ones leading the male/female dance. And yet we keep handing the keys over to the guy (sorry to mix metaphors) because we believe there's not enough nice men out there. Men know this, he said. And they play on this to their advantage.
So I told my friend L. about S.H.'s book and we discussed how it applies to certain recent events. I also thought about it as the night progressed. A clubbing bar/hopping night out to me means dancing, the comfort of friendship, meeting new possible friends and maybe having a funny story to tell the next day. It means enjoying really fun music and shedding some of the week's stresses. Neither of us do it that often but we've made a commitment recently to enjoy ourselves sociably as much as possible because 1. we like fun. 2. we want to see what might happen. And 3. meeting and falling in love with a great guy is less likely to happen when all we do is work, go home and see the same group of people week after week. Neither of us is good at flirting either so going to nightclubs is basically an all around challenge, opportunity and growth experience.
A night out for me is not hooking up with some random guy for the sort of night I could never let my right wing relatives hear about. (Being the four bads = artist, democrat, unmarried, infrequent church goer, some of them already see me as wild and unsaveable. Sweet, talks to God each night me.)
In other words I know what I want. I know what'll work for me. And from time to time I would think of this inner list along with what Steve Harvey said (as well as, unfortunately, how well I can dance when pickled) as I talked and danced with one guy after another last night. (Oo la la, quelle hottie est moi.) Five in all, but out of those five only one was truly fun to dance with. He could lead, he could be lead, he did not touch except when leading or being lead, he had no ulterior motive except to have fun dancing. I could fall in love with him. (No, not really. But with that kind of attitude, yes.) What made dancing with the others not as much fun was having to push them time and again away from me as they tried to bump and grind their way into my benefits. I don't remember this when I used to frequent clubs more often in college. Maybe because, with the 70's and 80's music my friends and I preferred, dirty dancing was not the norm. So when I first found myself being bumped and grinded I was at first amused. Then annoyed, and I tried various ways of enforcing my boundaries (i.e leading the dance a la Harvey). Finally I had to go outside for air (and space). I wanted to go home. I wished the fun to dance with guy was still here. I regretted not enforcing my boundaries immediately instead of eventually. Back on the dance floor the wants-only-to-please girl had fleetingly replaced the woman I've become and this frightened me a little. Ah well, next time, next opportunity, next learning experience.
Lesson learned: I should not drink and dance. I should meditate until I feel calm and brave instead. And if I fail in that I'll keep my buddies close, choose my dance partners carefully and forgive myself the next morning. But I will not stop dancing because I want to live life fully, joyfully and fearlessly.
In short: I will not stop dancing.
Ooh, I remember that "wants-only-to-please girl". I am so glad she is out of my life. I am now the "what-is-right-and-true-for-me-gal." I like the new me much better.;-)
ReplyDeleteCongrats to you for learning from your experience. And, keep dancing....