Resolution 5

Well, it's time for me to start my resolution to write more. So, let me start by saying, "Happy New Year!" Okay, that's done. Moving on.

I went out last night for only the second time since my birthday in October. Sad, I know, but over the last couple of years, I've found that it's just easier to stay home than to try to figure out where to go. I've also found that I'd rather watch "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" than put on makeup and go somewhere I can't hear myself think, let alone hear anyone else talk. Now, I know it's pretty normal to not want to spend all my time clubbing, but this desire to not bother with the hassle of clubbing has leached into other aspects of my public life.

I used to love to go to movies with friends, hang out at festivals, visit museums, shop, and a host of other activities that would bring me out of isolation. But now, I'd rather knit, crochet, read, or anything else I can stay at home to do. Besides, it's so much easier to just get my social interaction online. I can do it in my pajamas. (I love my pajamas. If I could go to work in them, I would. You know, if I could go clubbing in them, I might spend more time clubbing.) Furthermore, if I decide I don't want to talk to you, I can just log off. I don't have to worry about making excuses or trying to avoid you for the rest of the evening.

Anyway, last night I decided to actually leave the safety of my recliner and hang out at a bar owned by a friend of mine and celebrate New Years and my cubicle-mate Angie's birthday. I had a great time. Danced all night. Did a little singing. Met some new people. In general, social fun was had.

I'm not much of a drinker, anymore, so I escaped the usual New Year's Day hangover, but my knees are killing me! (Ha ha. Yeah, I know. It's so not what you're thinking.) I've decided it's from all the dancing. Which is really depressing, because the last time I went dancing, I didn't have this problem. What the heck has changed since then?

So here I am, knees throbbing, falling into my first stupor of the year, because not only have my joints started falling apart, but I started thinking back to the last time I went dancing, and I can honestly say that I don't remember when that was. I know it's not my memory that's failing me. If I had done any all night dancing recently, like within the last year or two, I would most certainly have remembered it. That leads me to believe that it's been at least two years, but probably longer. I used to love dancing, and it didn't matter what kind. I used to waltz, jitterbug, country swing, and I also did my fair share of bootie shaking to club mixes! So, again I say, what the heck has changed since then?

The only answers I can come up with are my age and my weight. At 39, I don't consider myself old, but I am at that age where the abuse I put my joints through as a child (gymnastics, cheerleading, basketball, softball, ballet, and a lot of jumping down from storage sheds and trees) is starting to take its toll. Add to that the extra poundage I carry around with me, and no wonder I had to ice my knees this morning.

So, how does this story fit in with my resolution to spend less time alone? Well, I think it shows that changing your life can be very, very painful. No. I'm just kidding. Sort of. Changing your life is painful, but I didn't use the story to illustrate this little lesson. In fact, when I started writing this post, the idea wasn't even floating around in the back of my brain. When I write, I kind of just let it go where it goes. Sometimes I end up at the destination I planned, and sometimes I end up off the map. In this case, I ended up learning a little bit about myself.

Well, it's time to get back to the Special Victims marathon, the afghan I'm crocheting, and the scarf I'm knitting. Or maybe I'll pick up the Christopher Moore book I just bought. (Ah well, I guess I didn't learn as much as I thought.)