Going Out Monday Night

What was it like going out on a Monday night? Half-dead half-alive condition the next day, supported only by juice shots and copious amount of coffee, as well as grease-laden chicken waffle sandwich. Yuck.

Will I do that again? Hell no. Do I regret it? F--- no.

Life is a journey, and I savor each moment of it. Each little details, each little adventures, each little escapades, every thing counts. Including being zombified on Tuesday morning, with my 40 miles commute.

I think I am lucky. I am very, very lucky. Looking back, everything that happened in my life has been memorable, fun, educating, just amazingness all round.

Nerd school. Medical student. Campus organization. English Tutor for different levels of age. Wedding photography sales person. Supplement company liaison officer. Published writer.

Devoted girlfriend, Romeo and Juliet style. Weird spinster. Loving stepmom in an almost white-picket-fence society. A wife. A daughter-in-law. A bitter divorcee. A fierce single-woman.

There were times when I was attacked for things I did, times where I was made ashamed of my life decisions. Yet looking back, I can almost always say: "That was actually pretty effing rad."

There were those late-night moments cramming for the tests. There were those warming moments with my family. There were those blurred days and nights when my world crumble to pieces.

There were nights of flirts and seductions. There were days of loving and adoration. There were times of children laughter and tender touches. There were times of sorrow and times of joy.

There were choked voice and streaming tears as I said "I do". There were high-pitched scream and various "F--- you!!!" There were a few "Umm can I die yet?" There were blushed cheeks as I realized and/or validated: "You're good".

And then there were beer-tasted kisses in the club, with Phil Collins blaring in what supposedly Motown Night and everyone looked like they were having fun but nervous about working tomorrow. Well, maybe just me.

Why is the experience of going out on a Monday night so profound for me? Because why not? Because it was my first. Because I live and breathe even the tiniest, most mediocre moments and use them to build who I am.

In life, there will always be that "Whoa!" moments. Some are positive, some are negative. All equally important. All equally beautiful. It's the musical notes of a song that compliment one another.

Enjoying these little moments, these "Whoa"s, these 'first's, allow us to anchor ourselves, to find ourselves. It allow us to embrace life and loving it for what it is, and eventually, loving ourselves for who we are.

There are things that I wish could have happened differently, but I don't regret it. Good or bad, they shaped me into who I am now. And I like who I am now, with all the scars and all the strength.

When they say live life, it doesn't always mean hauling your ass to idyllic instagrammable locations. Sometimes it means enjoying the moments, what little things we have right now, and found happiness there.

I can't tell you how good it feels to hit the bed and composing this article, knowing fully well I can catch up my sleep tonight after that long, long Monday night. Will I do it again? Nope. Not a chance. But I am glad I did. So glad I did.