My alarm didn't go off, so I was ten minutes late to Chemistry class, during which I found out that I'd done horrendously on a quiz that I'd taken last week. When I went to the gym and weighed myself, I had the unpleasant surprise of a few extra pounds that had definitely not been there a few weeks ago (I guess I'll have to lay off the cupcake-baking for a while). Worst of all, my editor at my school's newspaper was forcing me to attend an electronic music concert that evening. Don't get me wrong, I can usually appreciate electronic music (I did go to Electric Zoo with some friends, after all), but after everything else that had happened that day, the last thing I wanted to do was go to some club by myself and endure loud, repetitive beats. I tried to find some way of avoiding going to the concert, but one of my roommates finally promised to go with me, so I relented and decided to go, albeit unwillingly.
When we first got to the concert venue, my worst fears seemed to be confirmed: it was twenty minutes before the show was supposed to start, and there were only two people out on the dance floor. We left, though, and went to get milkshakes, and ended up sitting in The Milkshake Factory for almost an hour with my roommate and two of his friends discussing the meaning of happiness and corn monoculture. Between my delicious Fudge Java Brownie Milkshake and the intellectual discourse, I was feeling particularly more upbeat by the time we returned to the club, even though there were only 30 people in the venue at that point.
The first DJ was somewhat boring, with a set that jumped all over the place and songs that didn't transition well into each other. I was afraid that the whole evening would be just as mediocre, until the second DJ came out. His music was so upbeat and alluring that it drew me out onto the dance floor, and once I started dancing, I couldn't stop. After a few songs, I was hardly even aware of anyone around me, or even of the exact songs that the DJ was playing; I was too busy getting lost in the music and in dancing along to the beat, with a grin on my face the entire time.
I ended up dancing for about two and a half hours straight, until we all decided to head home at 12:30. I practically skipped out of the club, I was so pumped with endorphins. I went home and sang my praises about the show to our other two roommates, both of whom looked amused at my dramatic change of mood.
So, what's the point of me monologuing about a great concert, especially one that's already past? Well, I guess the point is what I realized later that evening, as I was lying in bed unable to sleep: Had I not taken the opportunity to go to this concert, I would still be cranky, lying lazily about at home, and wondering about what I was missing out on. I used to tell myself to take every opportunity that came my way, because you don't regret the opportunities you took advantage of, but rather the ones you missed. Lately, though, I seem to have been abandoning this mantra out of either shyness, fear, or plain old laziness. Last night was a wake-up call to go back to taking advantage of every opportunity I can get my hands on. Who knows what delicious treats or danceable beats you could missing out on otherwise?
(PS: If you'd like, you can read my review of the show here)
