phish and chips.

in a rare moment of risky honesty, i told a professor (that i share the same birthday with) about how i really suck at feeling things. i didn't say emotionally retarded because, you know, she wouldn't have taken kindly to that term. or maybe she would. i don't know. get therapy, girl. get on that. you could be amazing. that was her response. yes, yes, yes. this is what people say. i think i only told her because she told me about her OCD. i felt like she had given me too much information at that moment, so i needed to tell her something and restore the balance.

i realized later on what i should have done last semester. like everyone else does during internship, i should have just lied about my feelings and pretended to care about things. this is what i get for being honest. billy joel would be super disappointed in me i if i was dishonest, though. damn. (all he asks for is honesty.)

i think all the drama and collective insanity surrounding the arizona situation has me disinterested. i probably told too many people, heard too many opinions, and got a pinch too disgusted with emotions. also, you know, the risk would probably cost more than the emotions would be worth. add the fact that the girl who liked him last year is a friend of mine and it gets hairy. so i decided not to be an ass and fuck with his emotions. also because we're actually friends... so yeah. i should probably stop picking friends over friends and just treat all the friends like friends. right? i don't know what that means but it makes sense in a way. whatever.

after coming to this conclusion, i played a few of my songs on the guitar for my friend (shut up, no, you don't want to hear them, they suck), the one who told me about arizona's dicey past. she started fan-girling pretty hard. i called one of my grad buddies over to say hi and hopefully change the topic of conversation long enough for her to calm down. but she didn't. instead she started raving to him about how he had to hear my song and how awesome it was. i don't know. so this guy and i just end up jamming together for about one hour.

he's into phish-- this is becoming a common trait of guys i know and i'm not entirely sure why, although i guess phish is pretty awesome, so it makes sense-- and jazz. all i do is jazz. and jeff buckley. i kept having to suppress my insanity. whenever he said something that tickled my brain, my eyes would widen and i'd sit up straighter, maniacally grinning and forgetting to breathe. then i would realize i was getting excited, apologize profusely and look away long enough to calm the fuck down. and he's the only person i've ever met who can understand my mumbles. i took up the habit of mumbling because nobody listens to me anyway. but he actually seemed to be listening to what i was saying, because whenever i would mumble, he'd glance up from the guitar and ask, what? and i'd respond with nothing and then he'd respond to whatever i had said when i mumbled. which means he's not only hearing what i say, he's also giving me time to repeat myself, although he knows what i'm saying.

pause. here we are again, like the olden days, when i hopped from crush to crush until the act of teasing myself with emotions burned out my internal hard drive.

at one point, i was staring at him, not saying anything, and then heard myself asking do you like cats? he laughed, as any sane person would do, and then said something along the lines of i fucking love cats. this dude has three cats. three. and then we giggled and did all the stupid shit pet owners do when they meet other pet owners. and then he laughed, this is why girls don't like me. because i like cats. they're like, three cats? holy shit. well, i can safely say i was not one of those people.

target acquired.

unlike arizona, who would be a common loon, this grad student is kind of like a great horned owl, tiger owl, or winged tiger. whatever nickname you like for that variety of owl. i think i'll just call him hoot. and he's also brilliant on the guitar. arizona is hands down a better singer. no question there. but he also sings pop. jazz guitar for the win.

oh and last night, i ended up breaking my four month sober mark with a beer. one of my friends is the supervisor for a store and there was a gas leak. if i hadn't gotten off, she would have lost her mind. i swear, her employees totally abandoned her. i had been heading to the store to see her, when the firetrucks pulled up. and so i stayed to help (which her employees should have done) and then took her out for a drink, because she was pretty stressed. i paid. also. because i love her, haha. she's adorable. and i bought a basket of fries. came in a literal basket! so amazing. i thought it was an easter thing at first but i think it's just how it is normally.

so yeah. here we are.

ooh, and hoot asked me if i wanted to write lyrics to a song he wrote.

duh, of course i do. my brain wants to do everything and i'm gonna just let it run rampant. street magicians inviting me to see their shows? barkeepers telling me to play at their open mics? being asked to perform for school events in spite of my performance anxiety? brain says yes to all of the above. so this should be fun. or end really badly, but either way, hey. we'll see.

now to make tea and write songs. i hope your day (and also weekend) is less insane than mine will be.

honestly.