Your Face (kandigurl) wrote,
Your Face

LJ Idol - Week 11 - "Recency Bias"

I'm pretty late to the Lorde party, but there's this one lyric of hers that goes, "I'm kinda over getting told to throw my hands up in the air. So there."

I love the "So there," bit, as if she's like, "I'M DONE PARTYING, BITCHES!! DEAL WITH IT."

Which is pretty hilarious considering she's only seventeen.

But I can relate to those words. I, too, feel pretty done throwing my hands up in the air. I've recently discovered that I've become the person who gets tired at 11 PM and can't hold her late-nights-at-the-club anymore.

When I was Lorde's age, I was obsessed with going to concerts, throwing my hands in the air, whipping my hair back and forth, etc. My friend and I would go see a live show, head bang just because we could, then go to Six Flags the next day and ride all of the roller coasters with our aching necks.

And I wonder why I have so many neck problems these days.

The thought of doing that now sounds HORRIBLE. I mean, I'd still love to go to Six Flags, and I'd still love to go to concerts from time to time. But not back to back, and certainly not to induce as much neck trauma as possible.

A friend invited me to go to a mutual friend's open mic night the other evening. She was driving, "Back by midnight," she said.

It never occurred to me this thing would take place in a smoke-filled bar.

I remember dragging my mom to concerts in smoke-filled bars as a teenager.

"It'll make me sick," she'd protest, and spend the whole night covering her face with her shirt, breathing through her makeshift filter.

"Back by midnight" became "back by 2 AM", and I stumbled through my front door, throat burning and head churning from all the second-hand crap I'd inhaled. I'm sorry I made fun of you, mama, I get it now!

I showered despite my intense drowsiness, because I didn't relish the idea of sleeping on smoky sheets for god knows how long until I finally washed them again.

When I snore in my sleep, my husband gently nudges me until I roll over. Apparently that night, he was practically throwing my arms up in the air for me to get me to respond.

The whole next day, I felt like I had cotton shoved in my head, and I didn't want to do anything except go back to bed.

So this is what thirty feels like.

Mind you, I'm not divorcing the idea of going out and having a good time, but I'll be picking my fun battles a bit more carefully from here out.

Turns out, I'm kinda older than I was when I reveled without a care.

So there.

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