The party Saturday night was definitely a success.
The Parlour was a good choice for the party, and the celebration ended being split between two floors. The downstairs had a cover band who reminded me of weddings. I drank a lot of beer and had a lot of laughs. I got to tell lots and lots of people about running nine miles earlier in the day, of which I was very proud. Overall a good night, but not really distinctive.
My Sunday was spent recovering from my Saturday. I laid around, ate, watched some movies. And thought.
I thought about how it is too bad I did not have a journal of any kind last year when I was going through all of my health troubles. Not only do I think it would have helped me get through that period a little better, but it would be nice to look back and see how far I have come since then.
I thought about beauty. Specifically the standard and expectations our society holds us to. I look how I look, and while I can control my weight and muscle tone, the shape of my body and shape of my face are what they are, and how sad it is that so many people resort to surgery to alter what they have for some unrealistic ideal.
I thought about the fact that the main reason I am so nonplussed about looking old or older is because I have never considered my looks my strong suit. I am attractive, but in a cute, interesting way. It turns out that this makes me fortunate, as my intelligence and wit only grow through the years.
I thought about the fact that I am in love with the idea of people reading my blog. If I believed that no one was reading I would completely stop writing, like all the abandoned journals in my past. Weird that having complete strangers (and a handful of friends) read about my life validates me in some way.
I thought about friends that I fell out of touch with, the good ones, and resolved to contact them. Realized that doing so is utterly self serving, just wanting to know that they are doing okay for knowledge or historical sense.
I thought that there is nothing as sad as seeing a family torn apart - by a pack of wild wolves. (That was a quote by Jack Handy, I just couldn't help myself.)
Now I must turn my attention back to work and think about projections and costs and sales figures. Bummer. I like just thinking so much more.