There are moments of loneliness. There are times when, no matter how packed my schedule is or how many plans I make, I find myself alone and thinking. There are times when I hate who I am because this emotional rollercoaster that I'm on seems relentless and never-ending and I know deep down that that is not who I am. There are times of weakness when I think about what was and is and wonder about everything and miss him.
And those are the times when it is good to have friends.
I thought of calling him tonight. Of picking up the phone and making it my goal to really let him know just exactly what he's done to me. As I sat staring at my cell phone it beeped--a message from a friend inviting me out to a dive bar for the evening. Being as that trumped my plan to whine, piss and moan my evening away I agreed because really? Who doesn't love a good dive bar?
The plans brightened my night and immediately made me me feel better. But the night grew better times a million as we walked in and found a middle-aged man crooning a Frank Sinatra tune. "Oh my god, you guys. You brought me to a dive bar that happens to have karaoke! I LOVE YOU BOTH!!" We squealed and found a table, where I instanteously dove into the song book to find my song. There was no way that I was not going to sing since chances to karaoke in East Lansing are few and far between.
While I waited to be called up, I chatted with my friends, sipped my drink and surveyed the bar. It wasn't as dive-y as we thought it would be, but there were definitely older, creepy men and a haze of smoke halo-ing the place. Those characteristics, along with the karaoke, made me think of mine and John's first dates, where we snuggled in corner booths of crappy dives and sang songs we picked out for each other. A jolt of nostalgia and hurt passed through me, but I pushed it out of my mind as my name was called.
I grew nervous as my song started. Everyone else was singing songs from eras gone by, yet I was about to belt out lyrics by the great Sir Mixalot. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that. But there was no time to bolt--the opening lines of "oh my god Becky..." were being heard and suddenly every person in the bar turned to see who dared sing something so off-kilter.
My friends began screaming and shouting from the corner of the bar as I began to belt out the song. I could sing my song in my sleep so I didn't need to look at the monitor. Instead I watched the clientele as the song went on. Women in their thirties and fourties wore "wtf?!?" looks on their faces as I began, but slowly began to groove when they realized that I could actually rap the song. The guys near the front got big smiles on their faces as I sang, which bolstered me onward. By the middle of the song a huge group of people were cheering me on and singing parts of it with me, as into the music as I was.
My smile grew bigger and my dance moves grew ever-so slightly bolder as the song went on, prompting the patrons to cheer more, which made my pride and enthusiasm grow. This was why I loved karaoke. The chance to show a different side of me: the entertainer, the spotlight-lover, the dramatic girl with a flair having fun. This was who I was: silly, dorky, bold, unapologetic yet a little afraid, yet fun-loving.
All too soon my song ended, but after a slight pause I heard the room erupt with cheers and applause. As I made my way back to my table, women high-fived me and guys winked at me. My friends congratulated me as I slipped onto my chair, a huge grin on my face. It was me who should have been congratulating them, though. Because of them I remembered who I was and who I am. Their invite helped me to think of what I love and who I am deep down.
The emotional rollercoaster is not as temporary as I would have liked. But tonight is a reminder that things will and are getting better. And that deep down, under all the emotion and hurt and pain, I will triumph and be who I was before, but a better version. One who can get a crowd of middle-aged people pumped up on a drowsy fall evening with a favorite song and one who can forget the past while embracing the moment.