Growing Together Apart

"You know where all the cool places are," she says to me over the phone, and I am overcome by this unnecessary flattery. I am suddenly pressured to find somewhere quaint, somewhere different, somewhere less commercial, somewhere cool. We change from Starbucks to Brielle's in a matter of seconds, at the mere invocation of my suggestion. It's a funny sort of power that I have over my social circles. I feel unworthy.
I've been to this place a few lonely times. It's never had any significance. I drink there when I'm feeling romantic. I've often been inclined to stop by in the early evening during the fall, lackadaisically entertaining the thought of writing the next great American novel right there at one of those antique tables as I nurse my chai or my tea. (Life moves fast enough without the aid of a double shot espresso.)
Tonight I am surrounded by people that love me. And I love them. I love them so they can't imagine. Tonight I sit next to him like I have for six years--just exactly the same. And it wasn't different at all until we heard a whisper from that darkened corner. And I walked over, following the echo of this whisper that broke the silence and I sat down in a soft chair. And she sat across from me. And then you came too.
I began to voice my insecurities, for whatever reason. Maybe because I've been alone for so long now, maybe because my subconscious has highly ulterior motives. And then you broke my heart. "When I try to picture the perfect woman, I think of you," or something like this. Only it's not so direct and there's a lot more candid stammering, which is your way. And she leaves us.
We were silent forever, which is not nearly as long as I have waited to voice myself to you. And we are closer than forever has allowed. I imagine the two of us painted smoothly on the side of an ancient Grecian artifact, forever suspended in this chair, frozen in a mix of fear, frustration, and want. I should have just done it. We should have. You should have. Because you know how scared I get. How awkward. How uncomfortable I am in this skin. But we didn't. We turned our heads and spoke into the floor and apologized. And we waited in vain for her to come back. And someone else did. But it took a while. Too long.
You're my best friend. I should have kissed you then. And even if it would have been a mistake to do so, it would have been the best mistake I've ever made.

I never want to go there without you again.

Coincidence? What's that?

I just walked into my room after brushing my teeth and Ellis Paul started singing "Here She Is"! How sweet is that?

It's going to be a good day...

Dollars to Doughnuts

I wish he knew. I also wish there was some way I could say that without sounding contrived. I can't call him a coward- the man that I love will not be a coward.

I'll probably want to die for a little while on Wednesday.

So far, there are eight songs that I'd consider for my demo. Hopefully I'll have the drive to actually record it around the holidays. People actually want to buy it. I'm tickled...

I'm convinced that nobody reads this journal. And I don't really get anything out of it by updating. Rather, I feel pressured to write in this because I'm the only one who knows about it. I should feel liberated by this open forum for personal expression sans consequence, but instead I am imprisoned. I create strings of words that sound ridiculous together. Nobody judges but me. I sound pathetic--maybe even emo. This makes me shudder.

I've been shuddering for a very long time.

There is a Target and a Best Buy coming to that shopping center by Macedonia Commons. AKA: All of my Christmas shopping will be done in that shopping center by Macedonia Commons. AKA: I'm saving a lot of money on gas this holiday season. AKA: More time to watch brilliantly orchestrated clay movies on ABC family.

I actually listened to a Christmas song today. Sleigh Ride, done by Lena Horne. Christmas is my favorite thing. I'm a child.

I don't think my psyc test is tomorrow....dag, yo.

Less Rocca

My boyfriend, Mo Rocca, canceled his little jaunt at Case. This is good because I don't feel stupid for missing out.

I celebrated my dorm reunion by playing a bunch of Nirvana songs on my acoustic. It felt good to go unplugged after a weekend of futzing around with my newly re-strung electric. I'm glad I finally replaced those two strings- I felt negligent for letting him sit there on the stand, untouched for so long.

Finally got to watch a large chunk of the "debate" this evening, but MAN. What a load of crap. I'm glad I'm skilled at making my own fun, because there was certainly nothing outwardly good about what was going on. There was definite humor in the little things. My favorite was a Kerry quote: "Unfortunately, he escaped in the mountains of Tora Bora..." (Of course referring to that elusive little scamp, Osama bin Laden.)

I was comforted today in the presence of my cousins. Every time I see them, they're three more inches taller than me, a sign that I don't devote as much time to them as I used to. I was never hesitant to tell people who inquired that my cousins were my best friends. Now, I sometimes feel the need to add that three-word-disclaimer: "used to be". Fortunately, I think the boys feel the same way; today we committed a weekend to each other. We're planning on gracing our grandma's house with our mischief, like we used to when we were wee. (When we were wee sounds cool!) That means chicken noodle soup, this whacked out game that we invented that calls for one of those duster things, four pillows, and a cat toy, and some pretty killer home movies down the hill on the canal. (We're so messed up)

Anyway, I felt the need to put something in here. I feel bad because most of my better writing is archived in my lj already, and so I usually write furreal in there. I'll have to work on balancing my brilliance.