2006-08-11
With friends like these...
At about 9:00 this evening, I got a call from my roommate and our friend J. They were going to go out for sushi and maybe grab a drink, and they wanted to know if I wanted to come along. I really didn't - I had a long night of sitting on my ass watching reruns planned - and I told them so. This just started a huge guilt trip from them, which grew when they showed up at the apartment to further guilt me into going. So fine, I would go out and grab something to eat, maybe pick up a drink, but I had to be back at a reasonable time since I have work in the morning.
Dinner was fine, we had some decent sushi and a little sake. We go to the bar next door and grab a drink. Or actually, I grabbed a drink. They had a drink, a shot, another shot, two more drinks....and that was about the time I began to wonder how we were getting home. When I asked them, the only response I got was a blank look from both and disbelief that I didn't want to stay out drinking until the bar closed. And so I ended my evening hiking back to the apartment alone, in J's new sneakers because the heels I was wearing were not going to cut it, annoyed that somehow I had turned out to be the asshole of the outing I didn't even want to go on to begin with, with a blister on my heel the size of a nickel to boot.
If I don't go out with my friends, I feel like shit. I feel like I'm wasting my life, that I'm a fuddy-duddy, a bore. But they don't seem to realize that I have an actual job to go to five days a week, and as much as I dislike my job I'm not about to show up in the morning exhausted, hungover, and smelling like an ashtray from the night before. Basically, no matter what I decide to do, it's wrong and I feel bad in some way.
So, of course, the first thing I do when I get home upset is start to make stuff. The latest creations:
My new necklace, plus part of the top I finished:
A close up of the necklace:
corin82 at 12:16 a.m.