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Dear Mr. Lower Queen Anne bar-hopper,

I saw you a month ago at infamous Ozzie's. You sang your heart out to Muse's "Starlight." I noticed your deep-set drunk eyes on me. I thought about how you would be going home with a blurry stranger whom you may or not wake up with in the morning. A world with which I can not identify.

I have not been to a bar since then, well, not until tonight.

I saw you at infamous Chopstix. Since karaoke was not an option, you had to listen to the pianists sing their hearts out. Even you have to admit that they rocked "Friends in Low Places" and "Fat Bottomed Girls." I thought, "Wow, he must hit hetero-alley every single night! Is he incapable of not making an appearance?"

Then it occurred to me: what if you too have not been to a bar since Ozzie's? Maybe you saw me tonight and had the same thought. Who am I to think I am above you? Although...I'm at home now, with no one but my dog and cheap (but not so cheap) cable and you were still at the bar when I left.

...maybe you have a dog too.

We all have our stories, our reasons for doing what we do. Why do I internally criticize people? It is not as if my life is any more important that his or hers. I waste time on trivial activities. I am never bored, but it does not mean that everything I do is significant. I spend time doing meaningful as well as meaningless things.

Life is a combination of trivial and profound.

Sometimes we need to check out whether that means reading a book, praying, going on a walk, watching crap T.V., or having fun at a tacky bar. We need different things at different times. It is all of value when we are honoring what we need and where we are in the moment. The tacky bar did not help me. Who knows what is most helpful? I certainly do not. So deep-set eyed dude can have his fun. If I see him again, I will think nothing of it. Unless he has herpes lips; that is a different story.