Sex, Drugs and Rock 'N' Roll

There comes a point in everyone's life when you wake up in an obscure location, clutching the last remaining can/bottle/random object from whatever happened the night before and think one of two things: either "Hmmm... Things got out of hand FAST! When can I go round again?" or "Omg... OMG is this my LIFE?!? Jesus, I gotta get a new one. Fast."

I mysef experienced this situation only on sunday morning - I awoke in a friend's bathroom, topless and clinging on to a tube of toothpaste as if my life depended on it. My initial thought was not "Jesus Christ, where is my crucial article of clothing?" nor was it "Woops, my shift started 2 hours ago." It was infact "I think I might allow that cat to finish licking my hair, I don't have time for a shower." And it was only then that I thought to myself something that made more sense - me being me, it was the first thought.

I'd like to think that I'm one of those people that does not do things in moderation. If I'm gonna drink, I'm gonna down that entire bottle of vodka and then eat that damn fish food. If I'm gonna try weed, I'm gonna smoke that stuff until 5 in the morning and spend at least 10 minutes laughing hysterically at a damp rose bush. If I'm gonna practically eat the face off that bloke I've known for only a few hours, I'm damn well gonna grab the next taxi back to his and fuck his brains out all night. If I'm gonna get a piercing, I'm gonna get as many as I can in the most unusual places I can find. I could go on, but I think you know what I'm talking about.

It is with this revelation that I consider myself truly to be living life to its fullest. Yes, blackouts are extremely frightening and memory loss can serve as either a fear-inducing drug or as a God send (in my case, my memory loss has still not returned and is a God send. I do not feel the shame I should feel about eating fish food and puking all over some guy's living room simply because I do not remember doing it.) I've come a long way since my days of only being able to drink half a glass of cider (or so it seemed) before people would find me weeping in the corner over the fact that I realised that my curtains and bed sheets clashed. No, I am not kidding. 13 is an age at which you are much too young to drink, as I keep telling Christian, but I'll be damned if he ever so much as considers listening to me.

Where was I? Oh yes *Ahem* Yes, people may consider me stupid for drinking until I black out, or dangerous for mixing alcohol and drugs, or slaggy for sleeping with someone I am not in a long-standing relationship with, and to these people I say "Fuck. You." It's my life, I will make my own decisions and mistakes, and I'll bloody well enjoy myself while I'm at it! I don't want to grow up to ANY age and look back at my teenage/early adult years and think "My God, what a boring arse I was." This is the way I'm choosing to live - I'm immature, spontaneous, rude, crass, crude, and dare I say it, sexy to boot as well?

You may wonder where this sudden revelation came from - after all, I'm not really known for such deep thought unless required but it may sometimes take an emotional knock to encourage such thoughts. I learned about a month ago that a family member had been told that he had throat cancer - not pleasant, but sometimes survivable. Something I could easily cope with. I am not naive - I was quite aware that he could die. I even prepared myself for the eventuality that the cancer had spread and it was indeed terminal, but you always have that hope, don't you? That stereotypical 'it won't happen to me' thought process? It was in vain. Throat and lung cancer. An eventually lethal combination. A 4 month sentence given to a man in his 60s, whereas his parents will still be alive and kicking in their late 80s.

Safe to say I shut down emotionally for a while, continuously weeped internally and externally and refused to speak to people for ages. Well, minutes. Life is unfair, and short. As shitty as some of the situations I have found myself in have been, there have been many, I don't intend on wasting any more.

I've never really been one to care about what others think about me, fickle words don't bother me, but after an emotional shut-down of sorts, even more of the once subtle 'fuck you' attitude tends to surface. Don't like it? Well, I believe you might already know the answer to that question. :) In all seriousness though, live life while you can - you never know when it can be taken out from under you, like a table cloth expertly ripped from a laden table. Only death doesn't leave the settings quite as neat for the people left behind.





^^^^^^^^^^^ Goddamn, who knew I was so poetic?? ^_________^