A weekend like this past one makes me wonder why I live in New Hampshire. Yes, it's peaceful and pretty and cheap. But it's not fun. Not the kind of fun a young 30-something should be having.
Noelle invited me down Friday night to attend the Grub Gone Guilty reading. Grub Street is the smahty-pants literati scene in Boston. What I appreciated was that everyone seemed way different from each other--there were some well-groomed Boston types, some blue collar Boston types (folks from around the Boston area can attest to the fact that Boston is split into two opposing teams: Team A tuck their shirts in, make dough, spend dough, have been educated at BC, and have well-combed hair; Team B wear stained shirts, buy beer, drink beer, have been educated in how to kick someone's ass verbally or physically, and haven't see a comb in a good long while), some edging-on-gothic types, some guy who seemed to be putting out vampire vibes, and some really attractive people who make me want to get a better haircut or work out more or hire a personal shopper so that I look like I can put an outfit together too.
How's THAT for a sentence?
So this was my first Grubby experience, and I liked it. In some dimly lit secret location with no air conditioning, I and many others sweated our asses off while listening to readers share their guiltiest pleasure reads, among them being The Thorn Birds. Seriously.
As profuse perspiration rolled down the side of my face, puddled between my breasts, and created shameful wet marks on my backside, I found myself feeling something I haven't felt in a long time--kinship. These folks were funny. And smart. And imperfect. And I liked it. I wanted to hug everyone and tell them how much it meant to spend the evening with intellectual insanity. It's a far cry from watching the bar brawls outside my bedroom window.
My challenge now is how to bottle up the things I like about New Hampshire and meld them into something I can enjoy in Massachusetts. My apartment, for one. I will never have an apartment like this again. And especially not in Boston. That bums me out quite a bit. And I work with good people. I may go on to have good experiences, but the current one is nothing to scoff at.
While I plot the next chapter of my life, I have a lot to consider. And while I don't appreciate the lines on my face that grow more permanent with each day, I do appreciate that experience teaches me what I can and cannot tolerate. It quietly shows me who I am. Hang tough, Grubbies. I'll be back.
