In the Rearview Mirror...

(apropos of nothing...Jessa's bachelorette party)

I swear to you that sometimes I do not know what I am feeling until I sift through my words like an archaeologist, looking for little pieces bones. Brings to mind Peter Gabriel's' Digging in the Dirt...
(Digging in the dirt, to find the places I got hurt...)

I was walking away from the computer after my last entry, shaking my head and marveling at how little detail I provided and how emotionless I sounded. But there really were so many emotions about that night!!

Number one: ohhhh ...my camera. My beloved camera. An extension of my heart! I heard the shattering before I could stop my fall. And there was nothing I could do. I got stepped on, too, but I didn't care at that point. I know that nobody died...but still. My camera was in pieces. And so was my mind.

In fact, the state of my camera is a great metaphor for the state of my being...ha!

I had bailed out of work early that night, withdrew funds from my account that I couldn't afford, drove way too fast down to Denver, fought with Jerry on the phone because he didn't want me to go, threw a temper tantrum when I figured out that the Gothic Theatre is NOT on Colfax, and generally bullied my way through the "getting there" experience. You would think that I could listen to the universe's signals to slow down and just let things happen the way they are supposed to...but no. I had to push things through and make it go like I thought it should be.

Although we did make it in time for the Meet & Greet with the bands, and even got to see the acts warm up...I was truly feeling the cost of all of my actions up to that point.

When I did finally get knocked down in the crowd, I actually felt like I deserved it. Not just for that night. But for all of the nights leading up to that. All the adolescent acting out that I was doing and the lives that I was wreaking havoc on.

I felt like I was finally paying a price with something I held dear.

...and because I felt like I deserved to lose something precious, I didn't take my camera to the shop for almost another three weeks.

Self-flogging. Self-loathing.

...you would think with the emotional price I paid and the pain of repentance, that I would change my ways. But, oh no.

The summer was just beginning.
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