The Laurels Where We Rested: Day Two Hundred Eighty-Nine

758481_30537001The definition of alot.  Aside from that precious drawing Allie Brosh drew of a alot, I think I could justifiably call what happened tonight the definition of alot.

My goodbye party, farewell party, our post-work event all rolled up into one extravaganza of sudden and extreme extroversion.  I had kind of forgot or blocked out the fact that this party was about me.  And suddenly, sixty people are there to hug me and talk to me and it got very loud and everyone wanted their picture with me and a hug.  These should be treasured, delightful moments…goodbyes with people I have worked hard to make friendships with and I feel…I don’t know, overwhelmed by how much I’ve failed them and how much I’m leaving a mess and then, how little I guess that I want to look backward.

Everyone was just profoundly interested in my life.  I used to think I craved a thing like this.  To be the prom queen or to be the star everyone wanted to hang around.  For two hours, almost three, it was really…visceral.   Like a magnifying glass beaming down on the top of my head.  It became real ten times over.

I did enjoy it.  I did find it in me to talk to people who loved my hair and wanted to tell me how happy they were for me that I was making this change and how excited they were for my trip and my future and lots of folks gave me cards and presents some of which had money in them.  To absorb the piles of compliments even if I had to immediately let them leave my system before they tainted the truth that I’ve fucked up and I’m walking away before the grenade goes off.  I walked back to my car with a friend and he buoyed my spirits further talking about the necessity of working to figure out what your purpose is and then practicing until you get better.  He’s a comedian and I’m so glad he’s doing well.  I said fuck, casually, to him as well, which I think threw him for a half-second, but it felt like a pink hair, fucking fire me if it’s so offensive sort of moment.

I just also got people who told me my old hair color made me look fifteen years older, and got hollered at to “sit on the old guy’s lap” for a picture and got hug that came with a hand on my lower, lower back.  So, yeah, like everything else, a mixed bag.

I can’t spend even another word on it though, because my mother bought me a dress I am too fat for (and I am more excited to do low-carb once the new job starts than anything else) for my trip that was the perfect exact dress I am looking for so I’m hoping to find time to return it tomorrow along with everything else that needs doing.

And I don’t think I have to tell you, that means: alot.

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