…allow me to explain through interpretive dance

shit hit the fan tonight at my house.

everyone came clean, all the chips were finally on the table, and i heard some things that i needed to hear.  and i said some things that needed to be said.

the tension that was festering just below the surface for everyone was finally addressed, and the stagnant, suffocating air was been cleared somewhat.  and i think that ive started a journey in getting my friends back.

this post is kindof vague, but i just needed to get something down.

i vow to call people out and call myself out right when the need occurs.

i vow to use loving kindness when doing said “calling out”

and i vow to try and hold the space for what is being said to me… when i get called out.

apparently im gonna try this.  we’ll see how it goes.

so… today started out like my normal tuesdays go… i have my alarm set so i can wake up and face another day of “the module”.  (“the module” refers to my courseload that goes towards my degree…and basically it means class from 10-5 every day…and its not just like… froofy acting class shit… its really hard.  ballet technique, linklater voice work, suzuki, viewpoints, and gratowski… it kicks our asses every day)  annnnyways… my morning routine usually involves some sort of negotiating with my alarm clock and cajoling it for a few extra minutes of glorious sleep, and then i finally realize that if i dont get up and get my shit together, im going to be late… and being late sucks.  so… i rush, get ready, and whisk off to the bus stop to get to campus.

so i get to campus, and im in the locker room putting my stuff away and getting ready for ballet, and i get a phone call from my brother.

apparently my grandfather passed away this morning.

a great way to start the day, huh?  i guess all day i’ve felt like im inside some sort of surreal bubble.  and when everyone offers condolences and words of sympathy/empathy… i dunno… i just feel kindof numb.  people ask “oh, were you close to your grandfather?” and… i dont know how to answer that.  well… i guess i was close? as close as one can be to a stoic, traditional, emotionally distant, asian grandfather…

ever summer of my life until i was 16 i spent at my grandparents’ house in seoul.  and when i went to uni. they ended up moving into my parents’ house in chicago for a couple years.  theyve always been a part of my life, but ive never had a real conversation with them as people.  i realized earlier today that my grandfather never really told me stories or gave me life lessons or took me fishing or any of the stereotypical stuff that grandfathers are supposed to do.  i barely even knew him.  so… why do i feel a sense of loss and pain?  i guess maybe its regret.  i regret that i never got to know any of my grandparents on a personal level… and i regret that my grandparents never got to see me… for… well… me.

gah… annyways… i’ll probably clean up this post and stuff, i just needed to get some of this out of my system…

so… last night i was in rare form.

not only did i decide to get silly and debaucherous… i got black-out drunk

i rarely, if ever, get blackout drunk, but apparently, the perfect combination to do so is to have the flu for an entire week, do nothing, sleep alot, and then the moment you get better, drink a bottle of jack daniels.  that’ll get ya there.  or at least it’ll get me there.

so… much of today has been spent hearing stories from people about what exactly i did last night.

apparently i drunk dialed… alot of people.

apparently i cried when my friend Tom showed me his tattoo

apparently i made out with 4 different girls… all of whom are very good friends of mine

apparently i smoked

apparently i played DDR…and well

and heres the kicker… apparently i tried to sleep with one of my closest friends and housemates, terri.  and thank god she was sober resisted my advances, cuz had it happened… id definitely be regretting it.  but damn… i feel like an asshole bastard.

so far… thats all thats been told back to me.  maybe theres more… maybe there isnt… but god damn, i sure feel like a dumbass.  and i know that all of my friends still love me and that everything happened in the name of drunken silliness… but i think im just… really surprised with myself, and kindof disappointed.

…curse you jack daniels.  curse you hard.

in the category of “silly experiences in my life that will probably come back to haunt me”… this is up at the top.  ::sigh::  welp, at least i didnt end up calling huey on the big white telephone…