All of our actions go through a personal filter. Thinking and doing are separate things. When these things approach being the same, what happens to us?

 

Many of us just went through this New Years Eve. People traditionally gather on this evening for the sole intent of getting totally wasted in company just because ‘Why the heck not? I don’t have to work tomorrow, and neither do you!” Most of my peers are somewhat ‘used to’ getting drunk. The have a certain drunk identity that has been integrated into their view of themselves (or not if they like the ‘I was drunk’ excuse for every time they’re a bit tipsy). For someone like me that has lived most of their life without alcohol at all, and has a natural tolerance to not get drunk even when drinking, I wonder who the hell I was the night before. People are comfortable doing things they wouldn’t normally do and knowing they likely will do them. People are used to saying, “Oh, he’s normally a great guy. He’s just like that when he’s drunk.” I can’t pass the buck so easily.

 

I was so drunk that my vision was blurred, and I still spent most of the night with someone who is ‘my type’ while beating off a total asshole who happened to be married. So, my judgment wasn’t excessively off. How was I different?

 

I was even more bluntly crass- saying what I thought when I thought it. Little surprise there.

 

I did a few things that ‘seemed like a good idea’ and ‘made sense to me at the time’ that on further thought, may have only made sense to me. For example, if you want to counter someone’s statement that “rape is funny”, you disagree. If you then ironically grab his ass- you may think it makes a point and is great comedic timing. However, if the guy is someone to say “rape is funny” chances are, he’s not going to get it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

 

I enjoyed dancing. The only dancing I normally enjoy is moshing or, when I used to act, musical numbers. That night, though, I danced more than I did in all of 2007. I struck an impressive figure, taring up the floor to bass beats. And if that’s not true, I’m sure people don’t remember clearly enough to contradict me.

 

I took chances. Saying whatever I want is a chance I’m used to taking. I’m not used to taking chances with trusting people I haven’t known for very long. I’ve never gone to a party at someone’s house I don’t know. I’ve never decided it was a good idea to stay there after all the people I knew well were gone. The list goes on into the night.

 

So I’m left to wonder, since these were things I never would have done without drinking, was that me?

 

The best answer I can come up with is: that is defiantly part of who I am. It was me minus certain inhibitions. It was not someone else minus those inhibitions. Underneath it all, I am the type of person to rip up the dance floor, I am the type of person to say no and slam a sliding door in an asshole’s face if they don’t seem to get it, and I am the type of person that will trust people when they’ve given me no reason not to trust them, even if they haven’t had long to give those reasons. Even if I don’t normally do these things, I at least want to on some level.

 

So what do I say to “Oh, normally he’s a great guy. He’s just like that when he’s drunk?”. I say, underneath it all, he’s really like that. The rest of the time, he’s probably just thinking or wishing those things. While they’re not the same thing, it shows you what they would do if they didn’t spend the additional moment to think. We all have that person underneath. That person for me is a good dancer, even if she’s more likely to get into sketchy situations. I’m okay hanging out that person every once in a great awhile.

 

So what about your lack of inhibition identity? Do you like hanging out with them? Do you make excuses for them? How do they measure up to your sober selves?

 

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you’ve all recovered by now.