No dinner; and dancing

This is one of those times where I feel the need to write but I don’t really have any particular subject in mind. So let’s see where this goes, shall we?

I had a really fun evening last night. Drinks were arranged after work, at work, to mark our one-year anniversary of moving into our shiny new building. Yes – the Irish will use any excuse for a party! I almost changed my mind about going at the last minute – it was cold and pouring with rain when I finished work, and the thought of escaping to a nice warm evening at home was very tempting. On the other hand they were offering free beer. No-brainer.
They closed the bar at 8 (I think they actually ran out of beer) and finally threw us out of the building around 9:30 (I think). As always, most of the IT crowd were still there, so we stumbled en masse to a pub a block away called the Gingerman. This place is a real dive – the restrooms smell, the stairs creak… and we always end up having a really good time there for some reason. The four potato wedges I ate didn’t go very far where supper was concerned, but I figured beer is full of carbohydrates so that has to count for something. It’s amazing how that seemed logical last night. This morning I saw the error in my logic through a thumping headachy haze.

But I had a really good time. I was in great form, meaning I was in a good mood, and when I’m in a good mood I can be extremely witty and funny (also very humble, as you can tell). That’s what I do best – I make people laugh. Haven’t been doing a whole lot of that just lately so it made a pleasant change and I was left with a feeling of well-being, once the hangover dissipated. Confession time. (Perhaps not the best choice of words, but it’s the best I can do at short notice). It dawned on me during the course of the evening, and this morning, that some of the people I work with actually appear to like me and there is a possibility that one or two of them might actually give a shit about me. For those few hours I felt like I was among friends. That’s a nice feeling. It’s a feeling I need to hang on to and remember for those other times. You know the ones. No? OK then, I’ll move along.
Oh, by the way, this is not a self-pitying morbid post - on the contrary. I’m in a good mood today. It was just something that’s been floating around in my head today so I thought I’d get it out there and see what it looks like.

There was something else today that jolted something in my mind a little – another good thing.

We went grocery shopping this afternoon – again, with a hangover, so of course there was none of this sticking-to-the-shopping-list stuff. The CD store was having a sale (OK this particular store is pretty much always having a sale, but that’s not really the point). I decided my classical music collection needed a new addition, so I bought myself a new CD.
My collection now consists of Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons” and “The Very Best Of Tchaikovsky”, which is my new double CD. Yes, that is the sum total of said collection – not much, but it’s a start. I wouldn’t be one to listen to classical music all the time, but I do enjoy it on occasion. So while Hubby escaped into the magical world of shooting people online, I put on my new CD and just sat and listened and remembered how every Sunday morning when we were growing up, my Mom would play one of her Classical LP’s. Those were my favourite days, I think. She would leave us all to sleep late but around 10am or so she would decide that any further sleeping would be sheer indulgence so it would be okay if we woke up, and she would play her music. There are worse sounds to wake up to, I must admit. We would all eventually make it into the lounge and sit there and listen, and talk, and laugh. We laughed a lot, in my family. Still do, in fact. And the other memories my new CD invoked were of my ballet dancing days. It must be 18 years since my last ballet lesson but I still find myself visualising the dancing in my head when certain music is playing.

Last year I went to watch the Perm Russian Ballet dance Swan Lake here in Dublin. What a treat! I got all dressed up and went with a woman I don’t know very well, but who also loves ballet. It was the first time I had seen a ballet performed with a live orchestra and I was entranced. The final scene, with the tumbling music, the ‘dying swan’ on stage dancing dramatically and the conductor weaving his magic with such intensity that you could almost see the beads of sweat on his forehead, was a powerful and enthralling experience.

I’m still not sure how this all fits into one personality – a big bad beer-drinking biker chick who loves rock music and fast cars, with an equal love of classical music and ballet. Can you all say “split personality”?
:-)