A First Time for Everything

Hey readers!!!

College has totally kicked in full swing. It’s my senior year so things will probably be different in terms of my posts and how they come into play. If you’re new to the blog, let’s give a run-through of how things have been in the past:

First Year of College

• Kathia starts blog to vent all sorts of heavy emotional topics influenced by dramatic and painful relationships
• Initial development with therapy; all posts are thus labeled as “emo”

Second Year of College

• Kathia moves into UNITAS and feels like a diversity queen
• Posts are still considerably “emo” but with a noticeable upgrade in class
• More poetry; more randomness

Third Year of College

• UNITAS again, but more involved in GLBTSA
• Posts more intense during breaks and summer sessions; posts are more politically charged
• We have moved away from hyper-emotional content of the negative sort!

And now we’re here! So, what has happened since college has started?

Well, once again, I am in some sort of therapy. For once in my life though, the therapy isn’t because I am spiraling in depression and self-loathing. Instead, it’s because I have no hopes and dreams and thus no direction in life, and being a senior in college kind of makes it necessary for me to start making decisions, know where I want to go, and actually care about life in general. My “therapist” is very nice and I don’t have to pay to see him. He actually has his MSW so it’s most convenient that I’m seeing him (because I’ve been thinking about getting my MSW, too). We’ve decided that his effectively assigning me “homework” so I would get things done (reason being: I work much better when I HAVE to do something, rather than someone saying it’d be good if I did. Thus, in the case of a teacher telling me reading in optional and just supplemental to the class, versus a teacher telling me that without the reading I will fail the class, I am much more likely to even attempt the reading in the latter case.)

For the important bit of this post: I’m 21. In USA, that means I have the right to not only kill helpless people in the name of justice, but I can do so perhaps completely inebriated. (I know this is a huge exaggeration. To all of you itching to say, no army people can’t fight shitfaced, shut the fuck up. And go crawl under a rock while you’re at it because clearly you never learned sarcasm living in the real world anyway.)
Last night, I got my sobriety cherry popped. I’m quite fascinated by the concept, and more fascinated that I’m both “high functioning” and yet terribly aware of the fact that my belief that I’m high functioning is a lie. However, being well enough functioning now after taking a bit of a rest, I’m quite able to fill out this blog entry. And doubly so, I am most keen on being as grammatical as possible (as usual). (That was a stylistic fragment, but because you have no style, you can never use one.)

Firstly, I would like to tell you all that I had four (4, IV) drinks. I did not consume any water throughout. Before I got my first drink, my body already reached an awkward high from the mere prospect that soon in the future, my happy-faced donned hands would be wrapped around my first official drink. I’m sure that helped the intoxication along. What did I consume, you ask? I consumed (in order): a “Midori Martini”, a European Cosmo, refilled Cosmo glass with a Long Island Iced Tea, and a blue martini. Now, I could say I also had some generous sipping of what was called an “Azul Martini” which was not blue at all, but red, and tastes of black licorice. However, I wanted something blue, not something red; and I wanted something normal, not something tasting of black licorice and lime, so I gave the Azul to a friend, on the bartender, and had that replaced with said blue martini.

According to the BAC calculator thing, I maybe had a BAC last night of at least %0.11, which is quite interesting. (Side note: I’ve always found it interesting that I put my % prior to the number [as opposed to after] and my $ after the number [as opposed to prior, like everyone else in the world, I guess].) The percentage makes sense considering how I was acting last night. According to my friends, I was “slurring”, although I’m still not sure what that means. I’m sure it can’t be a good thing, because if I’m joyful enough I stumble over my words badly enough as it is. I didn’t lose coordination until too many jokes were made and frankly my body gave up on me and decided to keep guiding me to walking into the street as opposed to staying on the sidewalk. Gladly enough, I don’t stumble about like a buffoon. I’m the random, holy shit why’d you decide to suddenly go in that direction, drunkard.

I definitely lost judgment.

Let me explain something to people, something I say to every person who tells me they get buzzed to raise their confidence.

You bullshitters! I’ve been saying this every time.

Getting buzzed does shit for your confidence. All it does, as we just saw, is lower your judgment. Inhibitions drop significantly. This is a good thing I suppose for me, because I am the most uptight person you will ever meet. Drop my inhibitions enough though, and I can be the most questionable and noticeably insane person you’ve ever met. Frankly, being intoxicated just hit the voices that scream at me, “Stop!!! WHY!!! Oh god, don’t do that are you crazy!! You will be JUDGED. KARMA. KARMA. KARMA!” over the head with a cast iron pot. Twice.

I regret some things, but I don’t regret drinking. I think it was a good experience, and I enjoyed myself a lot more and was able to do things I wouldn’t’ve done otherwise because of those screaming voices, but truly wanted to.

Also, I now have stories to tell. I’m giddy at this idea.

This is very exciting for me. Don’t ruin it. Fuckers. I will judge you SO hard if you do.

Many thanks to the people who walked me back to my dorm! You are most appreciated =D If I had cookies, I would give you them. But I don’t, so I will just leave you with the honor of walking me back to Carmichael XD

<3 Kat