Friday night was spent reliving a past passion, the act of going downtown for dinner and mingling, going to No Shame theatre (though it was small, and comparatively un-funny to others I’ve attended,) and just spending time with friends in the city air. I saw a few locals I used to know, though I think with this hair cut and this total 180 in terms of friends (i.e. not barging into a room with an abrasively loud force) they maybe didn’t recognize me.
It’s refreshing to be putting myself in new social situations (I’ve even grown an impressive back-bone these days.) This past weekend has been some sort of weight off my shoulders; not easy, no no, but just, to repeat, refreshing. The sun is out again in full swing and although its not warm, it’s not cold (a new feeling for me — I’ve been cold since last spring, and I don’t mean that emotionally.)
What is new, what is new. I have signed up to read at April 29th’s Grapheon; it was only fair to make an appearance I think — the theme is (from what I can gather by the cryptic title) Karma, and coincidentally, I just recently made a post on my other journal about what I believed to be karmic retributions of sort (also a cryptic notion, the post was about four words long, and never once mentioned the event I thought to be of karmic nature.)
What a coincidence that the theme love poems was so recently crossed out then and “Is it KARMA?” was put in it’s place as the theme! It’s as if I have some sort of power over these things.
I’ve drunk three cups of tea today, and I doubt I’m done rampaging through the stashes; my own collection is dwindling, but luckily there is always (albeit rather limited in selection) tea at Moody. Finally, a constant at Moody that isn’t either completely gross, or something you immediately regret eating.
I’ve found myself to now be fully and finally lactose intolerant, fulfilling my destiny as a nerdy jew. Yeah, I’m the kid who went to cognitive therapy during elementary school due to extreme separation anxiety (and cause I was too damn smart, how about that) and the kid who spent middle school in after-school computer graphics classes, the formative years spent surfing AOL teen chat-rooms and playing video games. I am now the lady who enjoys tutoring for a living, who nags her boyfriend in that jewish guilt way about soda (hypocritically, as I want nothing more than to run downstairs barefoot to purchase a coke) and vegetables, who enjoys bargain hunting and thrifting.
All I can do these days in journals is redefine myself; I must be at that age where it’s prevalent. I keep hinting around this giant falling out I had with friends, but never get straight to the point of how much it’s fucked up my sense of self. Everything my life was based around here at this tight little bubble of emotion has been changed. I enjoy sitting alone at meals (though now I am spending more time with new friends,) I enjoy talking to new people (and don’t automatically think of ways to paint them as inferior,) I enjoy late nights in the Writing Center listening to music and doing homework.
At the same time, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss everything last spring was to my life (not the friends so much as the events that shaped me.)
So I went back a year in my other online journal, thinking I’d see something small that I could relate to in terms of “how much I miss a former state of being.” It was an interesting thing to do, because I didn’t remember the significance of March 9th/10th off the top of my head. It was in fact a pivotal day in my life, one when I realized that I am a lady on top of everything, and I am attractive and worthwhile. It also proved a long-standing theory I’ve had on songs:
“ last week i left my phone number on a cute little piece of paper at the macado’s hoping the manager (S.) would call me. after a night of flirty-eyes and coming-to-our-table-to-awkwardly-subvert-waitress, i was super pumped. boys just don’t LIKE me. not cute ones, not ones with fluffy hair and my kind of build. when we got back into the car at like 1:30 am the mix cd kathy made started to play this modest mouse song, “Gravity Rides Everything”. literally just started as i turned on the car. “in the motions, in the things that you say, it all will fall, fall right into place.”
so, cracked out on boy-love, i wrote that quote on my white-board calendar and made it my ringtone for unknown calls.i listened to it once daily.he didn’t call.i wished i could go back in time and ask his name like i was supposed to.
friday night rolls around, and after a brilliant day of chinese food, blasting anna nalick around the loop multiple times, mill mountain awkward love (twice! in one day!) we go to no shame. there are 13 or 14 performers which is unusual, at least in my experience, and most of them are funny as shit.
we go to macados. i am discouraged by the fact that i a. will be sitting with 12 other girls; b. M. who was supposed to come meet me decided to get drunk instead; c. we were not in our usual booth (where, let me tell you, both times i saw him previously i was in the same booth, seat, the same OUTFIT [right down to the earrings], and eating the same thing. i’m glad he wasn’t horrified, because i was.)
i see him immediately upon our entrance and he smiles at me a bunch of times. i have to squeeze past him at one point and he gives me a grin and a ‘hi there.’
M. calls me because “txting is too hard when yr drunk”. the noise of the no shame regulars down a booth and our 13 girls made me need to go outside to take my call.
as i walked down the hall i saw S. leaning against the bar. i went outside, where i proceeded to talk to M as he said “drunk” and “fuck” a few times before i saw S. in the doorway (he followed me). he walked outside. we were alone.
i did what any good person in my situation would do and hung up the phone. I stood awkwardly a moment, thinking I had caught him on a smoke break or something. no cigarette was pulled. he holds the door for me and I lean against it.
“What’s your name by the way?” I ask, completely horrified by my own GUMPTION. (i said it.)
“S., what’s yours?” we were grinning.
“C.”
“..Ohhh… that was you…”
“That was me.”
“We found it on the table but I didn’t know who’s it was”
“It was me.”
“Want me to call you sometime?”
[my phone starts to vibrate again and it's M. again but I just press mute.]
“I would love that.”then we shook hands.
so here is my theory about songs: they’re signs. and if you listen to the ones that are specifically sent to you for moments you experience, listen at least once a day; things might just work out. “
It was that moment, on the stairs of Far East when he said, “I have that as a ringtone too,” and we stood there, “1, 2, 3–” and pressed play and our phones played in harmony; it was that moment I knew I would love him.
