I just finished uploading photos for my usual “Weekend in Pictures,” post and realized two things: 1. My life is pretty amazing, and 2. I sure do party a lot. Or at least that’s what it seems.
Sometimes I wonder where the line between working hard and playing hard, and simply going hard and doing too much is. Is there a contingent that makes it warranted? I suppose it depends on what your definition of “partying” is. If being out having a good time with good people is “partying ,” well then you a bad girl and your friends bad too …
Do I think I party too much? When I compare myself to people that are married with kids, yes. When I compare myself to 30+ year olds with kids hollering at kids on a weekly basis, no. Ultimately, we shouldn’t compare ourselves to anyone – period. And ultimately, my answer is NO.
Because what you don’t see are the tears during road trip conversations. Hugs that are two seconds longer than usual when you drop one of your favorites off. Nose nuzzles against his shoulder. Being the reason your one-year old nephew is smiling ear to ear. Scouring the internet for a new apartment that will also signify a new life. Turning dreams into reality one coffee shop at a time. Your mom braiding your hair and telling you stories of when she was your age. Trying out new recipes. The hours put into creating the perfect query letter. Dancing in the sun, handholding during dusk, and kissing in the moonlight. And the thoughts you think in your head when you’re not even thinking.
While sparklers and poppin bottles, drunk kissy faces in fly gear, and roof top swim up bars are fun to look at, I know first hand that all that glitters isn’t gold. But all that’s gold, isn’t meant to glitter for the entire world to see. And it’s those intimate moments I mentioned above (not pictures of red cups, or stories about fucking) that I consider GOLDEN.