Why aren't Friday nights as important as they used to be?

Hello dear friends. I know many of you have missed me. (And when I say many I mean 5) But unfortunately, due to the great increase in my need to be at multiple locations for many hours and actually doing...what's that word...oh right, work, I have been unable to spin the magnificent yarns that you've come to know and love. But I'm back in the saddle and ready to ride this horse until it collapses. Are you ready?

Good.

So last night was Friday. Friday is that wonderful day when you have to work in the morning, but then you get to party at night. (At least that's how I was raised) And for the past couple of weeks I've been doing an actual nine to five type of gig so this whole concept of Friday as a party night had a slight air of truth to it.

You see for many years I've been working rather unconventional hours. I've waited tables; I currently studio manage on weekends; I've taught computer skills to bus mechanics at 4am on a Sunday. The point is, Friday was just another day in the week to work. In fact, most of my off days have usually occurred in the middle of the week. (If I actually get a day off ) So historically, the idea of Friday holding any form of sweet release from the drudgery of the work week was just a myth. Like leprechauns, elves, and the electric car.

But last night was a little different. While I still had to go to work the next day, I didn't have to wake up as early as I normally did. Also, a friend of mine was having a reading of her play (brilliant by the way) and there was to be drinking and debauchery afterwards. So I howled the words, "Friday night," at the prospect of hanging out. So I and the 30 and over crowd headed to a lovely little watering hole in Hell's Kitchen.

And I had a blast!!!!!.... for all of about one drink, a slice of pizza, and an hour and a half. The people were really cool and I enjoyed catching up, but dammit, I was tired. I had worked all day for God's sake. I needed to get some sleep. So like the grumpy old people that we were, my girlfriend and I excused ourselves from the festivities, hopped in a cab to go home, and passed out without the aid of any recreational drugs.

Now, while I thoroughly enjoyed turning in earlier and getting a good night's sleep, I couldn't help but feel that a little part of me had died inside. I mean I remember the days when I wouldn't START the party until midnight. When me and my wing man would come home when the sun came up. When we would shut down the bar. When we discovered the concept of "Get the fuck out music;" You know what I mean. When the DJ starts playing shitty songs to get everyone to stop dancing and head for the exits. When the club would just turn on all the lights and everyone would scurry to the corners to hide their sweaty and unattractive faces. I remember hitting the Yaffa cafe or some diner and 5 o'clock in the morning in a last ditch effort to get laid. These, my friends, were the good old days.

And now all of that is gone. The idea of chain-smoking 'til dawn and chasing tail are over. And I don't miss it. Not in the least. But here's the trippy part. I miss the fact that I don't miss it. Let me say that again. I miss the fact that I don't miss it. I miss the fact that I don't give a shit anymore. I miss that it doesn't bother me. I miss beating myself up over the fact that I haven't gone out on a "party night" in a long time.

Fridays and Saturdays literally come and go and I have no idea that they happen. I will be sitting at home, get a little hungry, head out to the store for a snack, and then wonder why there were so many people outside dressed in slutty clothes or soaked in cologne. Then I would remember that it was the weekend and that's, "What the kids are doing."

And when I don't even miss the idea that I might be missing something; when I don't even know what's going on; it's gives me that weird feeling that life might be passing me by. That I'm not in touch with anything outside of my apartment, my relationship, and my job.

But here's the part where I make peace with it all. (If you've read my posting about turning 35, you understand already. If you haven't, that's fine too. I'm not judging you, I'm just completely disappointed in who you are as a person.) My priorities have completely shifted since I was 24. (Go figure) I am completely focused on trying to accomplish an entirely different set of goals. I want so much more out of life. I want to be healthy, wealthy, and wise. And I've got absolutely no need for the bullshit. I'm too busy hustlin'.

Now don't get me wrong. I still love those good old days. Although I can honestly say that I miss the people more than I miss the actual experiences. But either way, it's all made me what I am today: A well-rounded, talented, mature, driven, and modest individual.

So tonight (Saturday) I'm thinking of watching a movie on pay-per-view, ordering Chinese (or Sushi. Who knows. Anything could happen), setting the DVR to record the Men's Basketball Gold Medal game, and calling it a night. Maybe that doesn't sound exciting, but it's all I really want to do. I've got another long day tomorrow to make things happen. So while those crazy kids will be waking up in some stranger's bed in the morning, I'll be making money.

Ha!