The Blurgh

Given that today seems like a beautiful, if crisp, day, I think I’m going to see if I can get some folks together tonight to cut a rug at a bar/restaurant in Bloomfield called Manic Attic. It’s a small place (as all places in Bloomfield are), but they have a house band that plays music that’s not too in-your-face, but also not drowsy. The kind of place where it’ possible to sit at the bar and talk to friends or get down on the dance floor, and it’s all good.

One of my favorite parts about the place, though, is the welcoming atmosphere. Most dance places, especially in other towns, have a real “screw you” attitude towards their clientèle–if you’re not hot and/or a great dancer, you don’t belong. Those kinds of places feed a common perception people have that they have to be good at something before they even try it, lest they embarrass themselves.

What the hell kind of BS is that? Manic Attic doesn’t buy into that sort of self-defeating and elitist drivel, and the way they counter it is with leading by example.

Although I don’t know the folks personally, I heard that the place was started by a group of friend’s who were fed up with how the dance scene was so non-inclusive, so they started their own place. Some of them are there almost every night, and they just rock out with reckless abandon. It’s hard to see them having fun and not want to join in, and that’s usually what ends up happening, even for the hard nuts to crack. It also doesn’t hurt that the band is totally rockin–live music makes a HUGE difference!

When I was in high school, I had a habit of staying up all night just for fun from time to time. I would get these great bursts of creativity, get a whole ton of stuff done, and then be in a wacky mood the next day which didn’t really matter because it was just high school.

Yesterday I found out those days are looooong gone.

I pulled an all-nighter the night before last because I had two essays due and a mid-term that required major cramming. I was very confident that it would be just like the old days; I would get a second wind around 1:30 am and by the time 6 am rolled around, everything would be done. Well, as it turned out, by 3 am I was on my second pot of coffee, I had one essay done (poorly), an outline of the other one (also bad), and I’d been staring at the same two sentences of my textbook for at least 20 minutes straight.

I decided to crash for two hours, and then I somehow buckled down and got everything done. The rest of the day I felt slightly hungover. My body was in full-scale rebellion against my lack of planning, and the confidence I had felt a mere 12 hours earlier seemed like a distant memory.

Since then I’ve pretty much done nothing but sleep. This morning I felt better, but I’m afraid to look at the essays I turned in. Does this kind of stuff happen after college? Does a secret spell come along with your diploma that suddenly makes you organized? I really hope so, because otherwise, I’m screwed.

One cool thing, though, is that for the first time in what feels like an eternity, Gretchen and I are planning on going out to enjoy a night on the town. First we’re going to hit up the new Jamaican place in Bloomfield (have you seen all the crazy new restaurants going up around there?), and then hop the train downtown and catch a show. Although maybe the tickets would be better used as a bribe for my professors..