Post-Festival-Churn

I’m experiencing the two-day-post-festival anxiety churn. Somewhat similar to the post-holiday life prompting reflection: it has crept up and grabbed me worse than yesterday’s offensive hangover.

Blessed with a long weekend for Sydney’s Parklife, a Monday morning obligatory employment crawl was transformed into a denial binge. Instead of dealing with said hang-body-over with nurture and maturity, we were easily convinced to relive our festival indulgences and drink the reality away for one more treasured day.

So the weekend has suddenly become Tuesday. A working day I still could not face. An early morning muffled sicky was dialed in. But sweet relief at how I miraculously managed to turn my week into just three wee days was soon engulfed by the churn. This was not like yesterday’s soulful hark back to. Favoured beats, disastrous festival fashion choices and comparative rambling regret of sore bank accounts would not be discussed today. Friends had left. People were back at work. I was alone.

Alone and prolonging the inevitable reality pain, free minutes today were not savoured, but scoured. Lacking equally derailed minds to provide bias reasoning, I have re-lived shit things said, acts missed and rent money spent in painful detail. Further; despite the idle reflective clicking of minutes, I have still managed to avoid attending to sweat-mud infused clothing, proper nutrition and re-hydration, or the detangling of festival hair.

I now realise that any attempt to continue prized festival moments by flicking on a reminiscent playlist and drinking warmth from plastic cups is hopelessly artificial. But the alternative (straight back into real world work and bills realism) seems horridly lacking in self-indulgence. Such is that future triumph and pain is already being quickly investigated as I peel through summer festival line-ups.

Sending my credit card into choking hibernation appears completely justified for the likes of Foster The People and Girl Talk at Big Day Out. And I cannot imagine a better way to see in New Years than sippin on gin and juice to Snoop at Shore Thing. So it begins again…who be joining me for this summer churn?

muse&skip x

(image sourced from: thewanderlustproject.com)