Although I had an amazing time in Portland, I reached a point, near the end of dance on Saturday night, where I wanted to be anywhere but there. It's like there was a switch: switch is on, I'm having a great time, everything is dandy, there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be -- and then it clicks off and I just want to be home. It's not that anything went wrong, just that I was done.
That's maybe not such a big thing for some of you, but it's weird for me. I'm the sort who closes things out. I'm afraid I'll miss something if I leave early so I stay until the very end, leaving in the last wave. I don't leave early. It's not something I do.
It's not something I used to do, anyhow. I guess I'm changing.
So I still spent the night in Portland, despite the draw to leave. Woke up and the home instinct was still going strong, so I caught a ride with a group of people leaving much earlier than I had originally planned to. Now I'm home, clean, fed, and feeling pretty good. As far as I know, the group of people I had planned to come back with is still in Portland, possibly dancing their hearts away at one of the Sunday practicas. I'm sure they're having fun.
I'm going to head over to Uncle Jon's in a bit to practice tango with him. I'm jazzed about that. We've been talking about practicing for a while, but today will be the first day of actually doing. He's fun, talented, quite artistic; I'm looking forward.
Then after that I'll spend some time with gay Chris. First time in a long time. I'm looking forward to that too.
Then I might even come home and veg for a while. Bond with myself. I almost never make time for that, but right now I'm having a hankering. It's almost like I'm someone else. Or turning into someone else. I guess that's the nature of growth and change.