Why am I here? It was fine an hour ago, before the music, before everyone showed up, before the party officially started. An hour ago I was helping to set up, placing sandwiches around the plate to create a visually enticing array, setting cupcakes on the stand and making sure the decorations draped perfectly to frame the sun as it set. Then the doorbell rang.

Someone I've never seen before walked in and didn't bother to introduce themselves to me but instead walked straight to the open bar. Can't say that I blame them, but it wasn't a great first impression. I suppose it doesn't matter since I also didn't care to catch their name. I continued to place decorations and adjust the plates of colorful salads and fruits micrometers to perfection.

The doorbell rang again. This time what's-her-name said hello to me, but then made a beeline to anywhere else. With nothing left to move left or right on the display table of food and drinks, the music began. A little loud, but it is a party after all. The doorbell rang again. In walked in two more. The doorbell rang again, another 3 party goers appeared. The doorbell rang again. And again. And again. And again.

Suddenly the house is full of bodies and voices that are alien to me. I guess it's fine, it's not my party anyways. I'm here for the host on her birthday so it doesn't truly matter who I know or who I get to know tonight.

The trays of food dwindle down and the music gets louder. What's-her-name forced awkward small talk with me, asking me what I did for a living without bothering to listen to the answer as she found someone else more interesting in that moment. I stood at the end of the counter awkwardly as everyone busied themselves around me. Only when my friend (the host) came to talk to me did anyone even notice I was there. Suddenly I was interesting and intriguing because I am the oldest friend of our mutual connection and birthday girl.

Small talk. None of it meaningful and no one is absorbing any of it. Small talk, exhausting and useless chatter to fill the void between strangers. "Did you see the game?", "The weather this week is supposed to be warming up.", "Did you hear about that actress and her husband? Sounds like divorce for them," they say. None of it means anything. It's how people who don't care waste time until their drink is finished and is socially acceptable to get a refill.

So why am I here? Oh, right. Birthday girl. Where is she? She's playing host and I'm playing the part of party goer who actually wants to be here. I play the part well, but I can feel my smile fading faster after each quick chat as everyone flits from one spot to the next to once they run out of useless statements to make. The silence left in their ever present wake is filled by too-loud music coming from an ancient boombox system.

I refill my drink and ste outside to the back patio for some fresh air. Maybe that will make me less of a party pooper. Outside the music is different, some alternative rock that is also too loud. Another group of folks who maybe had the same idea linger by the pool. Nope. They didn't come out for fresh air, they came out to discuss deep thoughts with superficial opinions. It's still small talk, but now it's pretentious.

I want to leave but it's hardly after sundown. The perfectly placed sandwiches all in disarray and the meaningless chatter's volume is rivaling the speakers. Why am I here? I doubt anyone would notice if I left... maybe I can just go. Go home to my husband and my books and my comfortable clothes and appropriately volumed electronics. Sometimes I feel like Bilbo forced on his unexpected journey, thinking of nothing but the comforts of my hobbit hole. Perhaps my adventure will come to an appropriately timed ending and I can escape back to my personal Bagend.

At least there, in my hobbit hole, I can recharge. I can relax and not pretend to care about nonsense and vapid details. I wonder if everyone else feels the same way.... There I don't have to force fake smiles and play along to be agreeable and likeable by strangers that don't care about me and I don't care about in return.

The longer I stay here the more rundown I feel, louder the music becomes, and the heavier the world seems. The small reprieve felt from escaping to the bathroom just isn't enough to recharge myself. It shouldn't be this hard to socialize and celebrate my friend with people who also care about her. I'm beginning to think that maybe I wasn't fully charged before I got here.....