Dancing with myself

Last night I played the role of "party girl" for a night out to a local show. It's my fun "social" past time, going to shows. I venture outside of my cave to rock out to music, which is the equivalent of going to the movies with someone, in that there really can't be much talking without the risk of damaging your vocal cords from the constant screaming every time someone yells back "WHAT?" after your failed attempt to say something in passing. I think in this case it's important that perhaps the entire world learn sign language. It would certainly save my throat, as well as my focus, because then I could fully save my vocal chords for the usual "woos" that one must shout every so often at concerts.

Music is a nice escape. I got introduced to the music scene from someone who I feel that, despite our past, left me a great gift in meeting some of the people that I have met. It's been a great outlet, and as a creative being I am fascinated by the dance of the songwriter. As a writer I couldn't ever see myself putting my words to music, and then having others love it (or hate it) and relating to it in a way that makes you feel like you're reliving a moment within those few minutes. It's fascinating, and brilliant, and cathartic.

Last night I was just in a realm of enjoying the moment and having fun. My taste seems to greatly differ from that of the mates I surround myself with, and oddly enough music truly seems to be the only thing we have in "common", and yet my sense of taste relative to music is just different. Maybe I search for too much meaning in what I surround myself in, or with, or both.

While the evening was musically enjoyable, overall the atmosphere was odd. While being a married womyn has never been an issue for me, I'm seeing how that, and the combination of being a mother, is very different, socially, than that of my single girlfriends. I would say that the people I hang out with at our local music place are *all* single. Every single one of them. That's not a horrible thing, well, depending on which one you ask, but it's clear that our choices relative to what's "important" is quite different. Rightfully so, I was in a similar boat before I became a parent.

Now it's just... different. I suppose in the past 3 months my views on just the world in general have shifted more and my sense of awareness of the things I spend my time on, or waste in some cases, have intensified. I hate to waste, I do, and yet I feel like I don't think 'hard enough' or with enough awareness of the things I 'could' be doing in my life. I'm more of a "could" vs "should" kind of gal... society passes enough judgments for us, I don't need to pressure myself anymore.

Yet the reality is that I seem to prefer a more hermit lifestyle of internal exploration than the general "chillin' at the bar" with friends. Is that weird? Maybe, I've never really been an extrovert, even when I tried it felt so outside of my comfort zone and unusual. It returns me back to the energy of feeling like an alien on this planet. I'm not sure that feeling will ever cease to exist in this lifetime. The reality is I probably don't want it to.

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