Wibbley-Wobbly Timey-Wimey

The other night I had the opportunity to help out/be an active nuisance at an "Adult Prom" themed party. I don't mean that it was XXX-style "adult" but rather that it was just a prom for adults. So a prom with booze. Or rather, a prom where the booze isn't hidden. It was staffed by some terrific people, but a few of the attendees got me thinking about how much I fucking hate...

Nostalgia- Nostalgia is one of the most subtle and deadly poisons our fragile, human minds are susceptible to. I like to think that it's only natural to daydream about our pasts. We've all done things we're proud of, things we're ashamed of, and things we can't stop laughing about when we tell others. These are usually the best times we have. And it's great to be able to look back fondly on them. But the fact is, throughout our lives, these times are often few and far between. I'm not trying to talk shit on life here, I'm just saying that our memories do a lot of selective editing when we decide what we want to remember. So it becomes easy to feel nostalgic for the past, to start thinking about what awesome times you used to have. From there, the problem is, it's only a short jump to being discontent with your present. And from there it's only another small step to doing things you probably shouldn't. Like showing up to a prom-themed party in your daughter's dress so that the entire crowd can see your leather handbag-style cleavage and looking legitimately disappointed when you don't win Prom Queen (again). And, in related news, that's why the song "Glory Days" by Bruce Springsteen can go fuck itself.

But, like all good double-edged swords, I still kind of enjoy...

Nostalgia- Who among us hasn't creamed their pants when they remember some cherished childhood toy for the first time in 10-20 years? Or sang along asininely to a favorite old song? Or sat around late at night with friends talking about all the stupid shit you used to get into? No one worth knowing, that's for sure. I'll be the first to admit that I get as caught up in the past as anyone else. I just hope that everything I do worth remembering eventually amounts to some sort of payoff. Maybe if, when I die, I could get a little montage of any dangerous driving, sex, and peeing on churches that I've done all set to, say, "Ace of Spades," then I could expire happily. Even more happily if that montage could then somehow be burned to DVD and sent to my friends and family. I hope you guys like partial nudity.