Downshift

I don’t know if it’s the weather or what, but fucking hell, I can feel my body shifting into hibernation mode. Feels I’m hungry all the time, and all I want to eat is orange and/or root vegetables and/or soup.

It might be coming off a trip, and settling back into my normal routines. While I enjoy traveling, I find it a bit wearing as well. Two weeks of disrupted routines can be hard on a habit-driven creature such as myself.

It might be coming off the Break-up Summer. When he-who-shall-not-be-blogged and I broke up, I was really worried that people would just forget about me. Who was I without my indie rock boyfriend? On the music scene, I wasn’t sure it was much.

My ex was a shield for me as well. With him being the incredibly gregarious person he is, I found it much easier to hide behind him than actually engage with people. It was a classic introvert/extrovert pairing.

These neuroses tucked in my pocket, I ventured forth. A lot. To see a lot of music and drink a lot of beer. I have found that the liberal application of beer is essential to the break up process.

Really though, the venturing was all part of my master plan. First, to make sure that I didn’t leave a vacuum anywhere. I found the music community here through my ex. It became mine, but perhaps only conditionally. I wanted to make sure my claim was staked. It wasn’t even about being on the scene – didn’t care much about seeing and being seen. I wanted to know I still belonged, that there was a node for me in the loose web of acquaintances and friends around town. It was hard at points. I remember walking home from the Aloha one evening bawling because people had been so nice to me.

Second, I was relying too much on my ex to deal with social situations. My therapist suggested that instead of needing to hook up with someone who was easy and fun with people, I should be easy and fun with people. Emotional DIY. I can hang a shelf; I can have a conversation with a stranger. So I went up and talked to people I’d seen around a bunch but had never spoken to. It’s strangely easy once you get going.

All that gallivanting, however, left me with a summer sleep average of less than 6 hours a night. A good night, I’d get 7 hours. Lots of nights I got 4. One advantage of wearing glasses is that they hide the bags under your eyes.

Two nights ago? 11 hours. At 8.30 pm, I thought, “Must. Stay. Up. Till. 10.” I didn’t want to wake up at sunrise. Last night? If you start your date* early enough, you can still fit in 8 hours of sleep.

Here’s to hibernating. I raise my glass to more quiet carousing.

*Sorry to keep on about this, but man, what a date. It was simple and perfect. G.D. showed up at my house with Chicken and Tofu from Jadeland. We ate dinner, washed the dishes, took a big long looping walk around parliament and got naked. Consecutively, not concurrently. I would not have added or subtracted even one moment.