Saturday, October 16, 2010

Saturday Night

Earth, Wind, and Fire has a song called Saturday Night. Part of the lyrics are as follows:

"Many dress to suit their taste, participate in the ego race. Tonight's the night for you to be, the biggest man in history."

I love that song; it's my favorite EWAF song, after Serpentine Fire. I find it obscenely ironic it is what came on my shuffle while during this Saturday night. Because this Saturday Night, instead of dressing to run in the race of egos and transforming to a huge man, I am making bruschetta in my mother's kitchen.

It came out all fabulous, by the way. I ate it with a 2007 Zinfandel.

There are moments in my life that I feel it would go against my core being to not reflect on. I am a capable 22 year old female, with dreams, a clean record, and high heels. I could be sitting, looking prissy on some faux white leather bar stool in downtown somewhere listening to a remix of Cooler Than Me hoping somebody in a sparkly shirt buys me another vodka soda so I can officially arrive.

But instead I choose the road less traveled. I choose the road reflective. I choose such a shiny, untraveled road that in order to deal with such the reverse of expected and normal action from other retards of my generation I must detail the defiance. Has anybody ever punted their phone? Of course you have. But for no reason other than there is no other movement in your life? My phone is somewhere in my backyard, and I feel better simply because of the motion.

I gather, from the words of my mother, her friends, and my therapist, that in your twenties you get a bad case of the Angst. And it's bratty, its transitional, it stems from insecurity and lack of knowledge about this inner being I so often speak of, but it still feels like a dense, sticky fog that remains slightly impenetrable without a nice Merlot and a bad attitude.

So, my fellow boomerang generation, let us raise our bratty, nice crystal (thanks mom) glasses of ingratitude and unmitigated ambition. Raise them high to 10 pm bruschetta's and 10 am returns to your childhood bedroom. Mom, I hope this a temporary situation. But until then, would you like a little nibble with your wine?

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