Parties, Travel, Cooking, and Oral Sex
Okay, the title of this post is completely deceptive, and I could be accused of gratuitous titillation. Oral sex is neither given nor received in the events described in this post. And that includes splitting a hotel room with Wasabi, mind you.
This past weekend was Jofish's 11th Annual Robbie Burns/Birthday Party in Ithaca--always a spectacular and enjoyable event (see last year's party). This year had the special treat of several out-of-town visitors (JMD, Wasabi, Jess and Julia, Kip, and myself), in addition to the complement of Jofish's wonderful in-town friends.
Haggises (both traditional and non-traditional vegetarian), neeps & tatties (turnips & potatoes), baked salmon, other Scottish treats, and a variety of spirits were enjoyed by all, followed by poetry readings. My selection was Garrison Keillor's versions of the national anthem, as re-interpreted by several poets--William Carlos Williams below:
This is just to say
I have taken
The flag
That was
Flying
And which
You probably expected
To see
This morning
Forgive me
It was beautiful
So free
And so brave
Other poetry highlights included dirty Dylan Thomas poems, Ogden Nash on the common cold, readings in Greek, German, and Russian, Allen Ginsberg's America, Chuck performing Baby Got Hack, and Jofish and Wasabi singing Sorority Girl (a hard-rocking re-interpretation of sorority songs, as sung by, uh, two guys).
Travel to and from Ithaca was made a lot enjoyable by road tripping with Daniel (and Rover), who has friends in Ithaca that he was more than glad to visit for the weekend. It worked out remarkably well--it was great to have company and conversation for the drive, we share similar tastes in music, and he brought along several years' worth of This American Life on his iPod. Rover was wonderfully well-behaved for the whole trip. A bonus cinematic moment: as we drove through the refineries flaring off gas to the night in Hamilton, ON, we put on the soundtrack to Blade Runner. Too cool.
Anyway, I was part of the cooking team for the party; I think we all had a fun time working together doing the kitchen prep.
But it got me thinking and reverse-engineering my personality again: I might actually enjoy the 'working' part of a party at least as much as the 'social' aspects (hanging out chatting and drinking)--possibly more. It might be my social phobias--"at least I can be useful, if I don't want to deal with talking." I have been like this for a while--I remember spending most of Tep parties cleaning up cups and working bar. Don't get me wrong--the party was a lot of fun, and it was great to catch up with the Ithaca folks I've met on previous trips. Maybe I feel the happiest if I'm doing something that I'm good at, like cooking. You might want to force me out of the kitchen to go socializing more, but I think I'm really having a better time if I get to distract myself by having a 'primary job', and just chatting here and there.
Also, Anthony Bourdain described why he loves the profession of cooking so much in Kitchen Confidential:
To enjoy the instant gratification of making something good with one's hands -- using all one's senses. It can be, at times, the purest and most unselfish way of giving pleasure (though oral sex has to be a close second).
After all, it's a lot easier to cook dinner for 35 people than... uh... I'm going to stop now.
posted by Bats @ 9:44 PM
7 comments
7 Comments:
And it's easier to organize and cook dinner for 200 people than to think. I find that it's a fantastic way to deal with situations in which I'm otherwise in way over my head.
I have to say I have spent many parties at peoples houses doing the dishes. Gives me something to do, makes me feel useful, gets me out of having to be social, and is a good way to escape into more one-on-one conversation and not have to deal with the big party.. Enjoyable.. but different.. Daniele
For those of you who haven't seen it, there was an article in the Atlantic Monthly ("Caring for your Introvert") that explains the direction I'm coming from. A choice quote:
Extroverts are energized by people, and wilt or fade when alone. They often seem bored by themselves, in both senses of the expression. Leave an extrovert alone for two minutes and he will reach for his cell phone. In contrast, after an hour or two of being socially "on," we introverts need to turn off and recharge. My own formula is roughly two hours alone for every hour of socializing. This isn't antisocial. It isn't a sign of depression. It does not call for medication. For introverts, to be alone with our thoughts is as restorative as sleeping, as nourishing as eating. Our motto: "I'm okay, you're okay—in small doses."
Daniele hit the nail on the head. What I love about parties is the chance to catch up with multiple small groups. Once the number of people in the conversation exceeds, say, 3 or so, I end up in more "party mode". This can also be fun, but it doesn't have the same personal connection at all. I've noticed that the times when I do end up talking with just a few people, I am less likely to be the one helping out with cleanup/setup/etc.
I also use assistance/cleanup as an escape when I'm in "people overload". Over the holidays at G's folks' house, I probably did more dishes and cleaning than I had in the past, oh, year or so...
yay introverts!
I'm still struggling with how to explain this to G., who does not seem to need any downtime at all. He's a little puzzled that when I do get some time alone, I don't seem to have *done* anything.
::sigh::
I'd love a copy of that article, BTW...
I'd love a copy of that article, BTW...
Cool... on the way as a PDF. I couldn't remember whether or not you could access that article without being logged in as an Atlantic subscriber. If anyone else wanted that article, let me know.
There's a copy of the introvert article available online for non-subscribers.
I kind of vary at parties. At parties I'm hosting, I'm often so stressed out about logistics (food, drink, etc.) that I forget to have fun. At parties where I know lots of people (e.g. the monster get-together at the Lantzes in 2004), I flit and catch up with everybody. At parties where I know very few people, I often just end up in a corner, hating life, and leaving - that's the one I have to work on.
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