2:27 PM: I kept the lesson of regretting the things we neglect to do more so than the things we do do multiple times yesterday, and it is my sincere hope that I gouged deeper a neural groove and reinforced the behavior in doing so.
Yesterday, I had so many opportunities to fuck myself right up and the internal deliberation and struggle were real. I had almost decided not to go the Dead Milkmen concert, partly out of sloth, partly out of spite, though I’m still not entirely sure what I was spiting against. I then went back and forth between trying to talk Suzi into going to the concert and not. I was looking forward to attending the concert solo, but it was apparent that she was sad and maybe a bit lonely. Seasonal depression or some such thing. I then nearly left the concert without getting a picture with Rodney Linderman. Suzi had suggested it and I was initially dismissive, as if above it. I then nearly went home after picking up a pack of smokes rather than surprising Jonathan and Ross at two in the morning.
The Dead Milkmen show was hands down, by a significant margin, the happiest concert I have ever been to. At most shows, I am at least a little on edge and that energy was entirely absent. There were young children in the crowd, several of which Rodney interacted with, and I found my face hurting from smiling. While I would not have known what I’d missed had I missed it, the projected regret at the notion is profound. Had I not at least attempted to talk Suzi into going, and went by myself, I would have known exactly what she missed. I would have known the exact experience I did not get to share with her, and I can even more fully appreciate the level of regret that would entail.
I know that I would have also regretted not meeting and getting a picture with Rodney, though I would have likely reasoned and dismissed it away. Had I not changed my mind, and literally reminded myself of regretting the things we do not do, I would not have heard Rodney tell us a random story about Lemmy, not smiling for pictures, and dying happy as four women followed him into a private room during his final days. I also would have not been able to tell Linderman that his show was the happiest I’d been to.
Reason and good sense may have supported suppressing the spontaneity to drive to Jonathan’s and pull the Buick up to his door, catching him and Ross by surprise, but I know now that I’d have robbed myself of a few hours with friends that punctuated an already great evening.
