In the words of the great hair band Mr. Big, “Baby, it’s a wild world.”  With the little 5 year old girl kidnapped and killed just literally blocks away, the patriarch of the family I have worked 12 years for facing cancer, a couple of personal disappointing dates [seriously, is anyone who they say they are in 2014?], and not getting any sleep for a week or two I am just weary of the wild world.  I am a writer; this is my only outlet to make sense of it.  Maybe it’s more accurate to say this is the way I healthily process that there is no sense in it.  Add deep breaths and strong drinks, and you just have to find a way to go on.

My outlet ‘di scelta’ is to drink and dance.  I’ve been doing more and more of that.  I must say, I’m kind of impressed–I think I might be coming out of my shell somewhat. [Price you pay? Some songs you’d rather not admit you like get stuck in your head all day.]  Granted, the alcohol helps.  If you’ve followed the blog you know that I’m on the way out of a slump.  So while some people are concerned–and I love you dearly for the concern–I am quite happy and enjoying myself.  I understand there’s a stigma attached to going out nearly every night.  And hey, I’m ok with being the party girl.  What I’m not ok with is being the girl who sits at home depressed and stressed out eating too many carbs and zoning out in front of the tv to escape her feelings.  In fact, I’d argue that the latter is less safe than the former.  [cue Pink’s “Blow Me”…’I’ll dress nice, I’ll look good, I’ll go dancing alone/I will laugh, I’ll get drunk, I’ll take somebody home/I think I’ve finally had enough, I think I maybe think too much’]

Maybe that’s odd.  But I have been off antidepressants for quite some time now and that’s a huge accomplishment for me.  People, news flash: I’m 35, single and childless.  At this moment the only part of that subject to any foreseeable change is that the 5 will become a 6. 🙂  I go to work, my few bills are paid, my dog is old and sleeps whether I’m here or out, so I see no reason NOT to go be the “party girl.”  Maybe it isn’t the world’s most productive coping method, but for now, it works.  It will get old–hell, I’m old! eventually I will get tired–and back to crafts, better writing, maybe cooking again, and the chores around the house. But for tonight, Cheers! [and a remix of some throwback booty music stuck in your head]