Party girl.

Someone called me a party a girl and I didn't like it.

I didn't like it because I know I am not one. This isn't my M.O. and partying is not something I do often enough to be considered such. I find it offensive.

For the past six weeks I've been partying every single weekend. This is true. I went to class every single day, took care of my business and then on weekends, I've had the chance to unwind by dancing to good music. Music I like, for a change.

Last Friday Chus and Ceballos were in town and I didn't go because somebody called me a party girl and it irked me. I though to myself "shit, Annush, you've been partying for six weeks straight...you've been out and about more than your usual self. Are ou really are turning into a party girl? what is that?" At that moment in time I wasn't ready to close the book I was reading or change into something a little less comfortable though perhaps a little more stylish, than my yoga pants. If for the past six weeks I've been a party girl, for the past 26 years I've been somewhat of a nerd.

I like to be home. I love to read. For me school is a priority and so is the gym. If given the choice, I'd much rather entertain people at home as oppossed to going out. I spend a good chunk of my weekends working on my scrapbooks and listening to music and then on Sunday, like every Sunday, I have brunch with my brother because Sunday is family day and I have always been a family girl.

Last week somebody called me a party girl and in an effort to prove to myself and humanity that I'm not one, I stayed home. I stayed home despite the phone calls, the offers, the hype. I laid in bed and I read my book and I went to sleep and dreamt about James Frey getting a double root canal without anesthesia.

When I woke up Saturday morning I regretted it. There are very few things that I regret in life and not going to this party was one of them. Saturday morning I felt like I had been robbed out of something. I went running, and as the day progressed I felt worse. I missed Chus and Ceballos because someone called me a party girl.

Who cares?

I care. Because I am not going to let anyone label me wrongfully. There are many more things someone could call me but not that. I did miss a good party and I wish I could go back in time and put on something a little less comfortable than yoga pants and dance the night away like I had done for 6 weeks prior. That made me happy and it will continue to make me happy as long as it's available. Because it's not always available. Good things always come to an end and that party would have been a good way to end it until the end of May, when Deep Dish comes around.

But it ended with me and James Frey in bed. Feeding off of each other's insecurities. Because if he knew that he was an alcoholic, drug addict and a criminal, I knew that I wasn't a party girl and he was trying to change and I don't want to change and there is a very thin line between who we are, who people think we are and what we want to be and if you are me you don't want to compromise because you'd rather be taken seriously than be a simple party girl.