choose it

Score. I am sitting in an armchair at 11 pm on a Monday evening. Tonight is Social Club’s Service Industry Night. They get us with that one. $2.50 bourbons? Deal.
I did go out last night. But I went out with Mel, my best friend. We call each other “Best Friend.”
When she texts me: “Karaoke night?”
I’m in.

But you can only choose one, see.
Two roads diverged in a wood…
Disclaimer: I am not an alcoholic. I’m just lonely. I like being around all the people.
I’ll be romantic and admit that I have a story idea based on it. I go out and seek inspiration. For that story, and just for everything. I feed off of their energies.
I can’t go out Sunday night and Monday night. Especially when I know for a fact I’m going to go out tomorrow night.

I’m going out tomorrow night because tomorrow night is Open Mic night. First stop, Sentient Bean. The Bean is a coffee shop that only serves vegan food. It’s right next to a small, overly priced vegan grocery store. To give you even further context, I live in a downtown area where there is an incredibly expensive art univeristy.

Anyways,
poetry open mic. then comedy open mic.
I get invited every week via Facebook now to them, by pressing “going” I am on the public’s feed, by going through with it, I am…
I am…

I am reading a collection of short stories by J.S Salinger because I ran out of things to read. He keeps saying, “She rested her drink on her small breasts.” And I’m thinking… Does that mean I have big breasts?
Breasts are weird.
Being a woman is weird.

My best friend and I used to talk about stupid college things, now we talk about serious adult shit. Something has shifted.
But we still get drunk and sing karaoke.
I have become the karaoke queen.
I used to refuse, but something clicked inside me and I’m at the DJ booth saying, “Rocket Man, please. Lindsey,”
and killing it.
Disclaimer: I am not a good singer. But I’ve got stage presence. I like looking around the room and having people look at me, or at least acknowledge me. Have you noticed that when you walk in the street we all avoid each other’s gaze?

Eyes spring up when something important happens. We all chant at the brawl, turn at the sound, stare when we shouldn’t and listen when it’s not to be heard.
And when you’re at a karaoke bar you look at the person singing sweet caroline!
and,
if you’re particularly pleasant
bum bum bum!
good times neeeever seemed soo good!

so good!
so good!
so good!

Maybe it has something to do with the open mics.
I enjoy doing them. People listen to what I say. They laugh at my jokes. They pay attention to my poetry. I’ve been listening to public radio in my car. I’m studying how they speak,

Tonight I am in. I’m writing a blog. My notebook is beside me, stacked on my novel and journal. Flora is sitting in my lap, purring. She has gotten plump. I have a cup of coffee and am swirling Hershey’s chocolate in it. I’m experimenting here.
I need to write some poems, maybe a small story, for tomorrow,
and something funny.
disclaimer: I am not funny.
I need MATERIAL.
I have material.

All right, Frost, you were right. Choose the path less traveled on. Choose it every damn day.

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