(Confused) Meditations On Party Brain
I’m having a party at my place today. I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to it. My brother and his girlfriend are coming down from out of town this morning, my law school roommate came up last night, and friends from all corners of the world (Northeast) are converging for what promises to be a great time. All the Femmeinistes will be here but Emma, who is (tragically) stuck living the high life in Europe.
I have to admit, though, that not least among my reasons that I’m looking forward to it is the fact that I’m hoping to get my brain back for purposes other than party planning tomorrow morning. I don’t know how it is, but somehow even the simplest party seems to take up virtually all of my mental energy for a good week. Yep, I have advanced degrees from prestigious schools, but somehow my brain is not capable of throwing a party and doing pretty much anything else at the same time. Like, say, patting my head or rubbing my stomach. Have I gotten any productive work done this week not related to the party? You’re kidding, right? I keep trying to sit down and accomplish something, only to find myself thinking that I need cornmeal and that the cat’s litterbox needs to be washed out. It makes me fear for my job if I ever end up having to plan a wedding. “I’ll get the revised contract right over to you and you know, I bet anemones will be hard to get at that time of year. I need to call the florist again.” Yes, this is what happens when Type A organizers plan social events. We line the details up like toy soldiers like toy soldiers in our heads, gloat over them, and redeploy them over and over again in increasingly efficient configurations.
Still, organizing parties is one of my favorite things to do. I find that as time goes on, fewer and fewer of my friends entertain at home. Understandably so — the average Manhattan apartment isn’t exactly an ideal venue for having lots of people over. The rental market may be better than usual now because of the economy, but this is still the town where you hear people rhapsodizing about studio apartments that are “only” $1700. A 10′ x 15′ box is fine for a party when you’re 22 and all anyone really wants to do is stand around drinking, but once you get past that point, you start needing a little more room to feel like you’re “entertaining” like an actual adult. Given the facts of life in New York, it’s especially nice to have enough space to be able to have my friends over and hang out somewhere that we can all relax. And while I have yet to master the art of guessing how much food to make for 12 -24 people, I do love to cook. Bringing my favorite people together over a vat of sangria and a good spread — well, there are few things more fun.
That said, though, I’m glad that it’ll be another three months before I’m due for another party. Much though I love having people over, I have this nagging feeling that it would be a good thing for my future if I managed to focus on getting something done sometime in the next month. But for now, I’ve got to go. I bet I can find a better platter for those sesame noodles, and I need to get more ice for Taco’s scotch.