‘Tis the beginning of another summer of Crazy Weekends. I’m already pooped. This CW, which started at exactly 5:15 p.m. on Friday evening, I went to a co-worker’s going away party, went to El Cid in Hollywood to catch a show, went to The Bar Method twice (!), went bowling at a friend’s house (!!), saw The Cure at the Hollywood Bowl (!!!), went to an Angels game, picked out granite for my parents’ new kitchen, ate a lot of snacks and had two cases of heartburn.
I’m going to try not to care so much about what people think of me. This is a challenge I’ve faced throughout my life. At The Cure concert, it was obvious that no one gave a crap about what people thought of them. Everyone around us was dancin’ some crazy. Flailing arms, choreographed moves, air guitar solos. I like that. I’m too shy and stiff and awkward. I think I’ll bust out some crazy more often. RAAWER.
I’m going to see The Cure this Wednesday. All ready for some crazy dancin.
I constantly wish I could care less what people thought of me, but as of yet, I have not been able to find the secret. I’m still working on it though.