The Process

I got to see Mr. Jones this weekend. It had been too long.

We did a show for an ISP in Columbia, MO. It was their holiday party. The show was fun, lighting and sound issues aside. Apparently they enjoyed it because they paid our tab for dinner and drinks afterward, so there’s that.

That night also made me think about change.

Five years ago, I would have used this opportunity to leave town for a night, drink too much, and revel in my short-term freedom. I would have stayed out until the bars closed and followed that with a plate of greasiness from the Waffle House right outside the hotel. I would have smoked half a pack of cigarettes. I would have met a woman, spoken with her, and wondered what the hell I was doing with myself.

Why would I have done this? Because I had escaped, if only briefly. Because I could. No questions asked, no repercussions.

I would have kept the night going as long as I could, sleep be damned, because life was chaotic then. I didn’t know when I’d have that sort of fun again.

Friday night, I was gassed by midnight, the victim of years of steady, predictable, satisfying sleep.

I had two beers. I ate half of a small pizza. I did take a woman back to the hotel; of course, it’s the same woman I always share a bed with. I absolutely wanted her to be there.

I can't overemphasize what a wonderful feeling that is. I can't possibly exaggerate how much this has changed me.

I got up before 9, not after 1. I had fun.

Growing up is a good thing.