First, the bizarre. The venue the concert was at was a bit wild. My wife and I haven't been to a club in over ten years. She stood wide eyed, and I was bemused, by the antics of the youthful twenty-somethings around us. The majority of the patrons looked as if they were the rejects from a Jersey Shore
audition. Most of the guys were in tight t-shirts and jeans, the girls in shimmery slips. In fact, I overheard one gentleman complaining that he had never seen so many "guidos". The club was a veritable meat market, complete with hundreds of dollars of complimentary cologne lining the bathroom mirrors. And here we thought we were just going to a concert. Apparently, it was an unofficial gay night as well, so there was a lot of happy kissing and hugging all over the place with both sexes. On the dance floor, I was ground from behind by a man, sort of like a reverse "Bump". We thought at first it was an accident, but he seemed to follow me, grinding me again, until finally losing interest. It could also have been a complete coincidence with a man who has an alarming lack of comprehension of personal space. He was harmless, however, compared to what followed.
A few moments later there was a short girl who ground me from the front as she shook her fanny with all her might. It was my turn to be wide-eyed. A man then made a pass at me by tenderly squeezing my arm as he walked by, and a drunk girl stumbled into my arms, fondled my torso, and groped my chest as she "regained" her balance. Sinewy shapes twisted and gyrated around us in the flashing lights and darkness. I felt as if I was in a sexual circus.
Yet it was still a wonderful night. My wife and I immensely enjoyed each other's company, and that, after all, was the important goal of the evening. Dinner before the concert was romantic and charming as we ate sushi in an outdoor patio. Later at the club, the DJs were entertaining and the music high energy. We didn't realize that Kaskade would play his set at midnight, so we were wiped out by the time he arrived, but he was skillful and worth the wait. I even convinced my wife to climb on stage with me as Kaskade played his set. At one we called it a night and went home satisfied. We had danced for three hours.
The following day I spent severely ticking. Perhaps I did too much the night before. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the date. I just know that when I have a chance to live, I take it. So much of my life is spent sitting down, ticking and unable to participate. I live hard when my mind allows me to. The club may have been too wild for the two of us, but I don't regret going.
I've thought a bit about "living hard" & my writing goals and have decided I am not attacking my novel with enough frenetic, live-as-if-I-might-suddenly-be-hit-by-a-bus passion. Therefore, I have made a goal to finish my book in thirteen days. Thirteen chapters. Thirteen days. In order to accomplish this I will have to eliminate some severe distractions. The question is, how badly do I want to accomplish this goal? What am I willing to sacrifice? To wit, I will give up reading news. I've removed my news reader app and will try to avoid loading a browser if I can. It may seem silly, but I'm a hardcore news junkie and this is where I waste my most time.
I've worked up an outline last week for my novel, so I have a better roadmap laid out in front of me. I believe I can do this, barring any ticking episodes. I will allow myself to extend the deadline in case of disability, but I will do everything I can to focus in, give my ADHD a kick in he butt, and get some work done. I'll also probably avoid meat markets for a while. Wish me luck.
Follow me on Twitter for my ADHD escapades at @SplinteredMind or my novel writing project over at @DouglasCootey. And if you're a glutton for punishment you can friend me on Facebook as well.
