I am not a blog person, or a journal person. I think my stance against these therepeutic devices is actually to my detriment, however, and it's only too often that I go hours contemplating to myself a peculiar thought, story, or event that has happened at some point in the day. I should have started this thing a long time ago, or at least at the very start of the semester so I could have documented my orientation with this University Life, but better late than never. A blog will also serve my memory, which is poor, and help me keep track of writing ideas and poetry and random sayings that I try to jot down in my school notebook but which seem to lose their humor and punch about a week later when I finally re-read them. This blog isn't for anyone but me, but it's not private. I think I'm a pretty honest person so in the end I do not care who happens to read this, but on the other hand I'm not going to publicize it because then I am essentially aware of other's attention and I will become paranoid that every entry is for someone else's benefit. This is not the case. This is for me.
Last Tuesday I went to a Fleet Foxes concert and wore my first official pair of earrings (aside from the pair my ears were pierced with). The concert was beautiful and otherwordly- as if I'd stepped into an entirely different part of the country in an older time. Of course the Fleet Foxes have that sound, but it was more than that. It was a feeling and a mood- interesting too, because it was drastically different from the DeVotchka concert I went to a week before. The Fleet Foxes bantered and chatted onstage and interacted with the audience, while DeVotchka seemed to feel as though we didn't even exist (which was fine too... interaction might've taken us all out of the moment). Then again, Devotchka had whistling and a tuba with christmas lights on it. I'm lucky to be in LA, aren't I?
Anyway, Jon came to both said concerts with his New Possibility, a very artsy girl, and his new gang, which made things kind of stiff... strange. Although they were all perfectly nice people I find myself facing the same exhaustion I seem to have to deal with everywhere. There is no earnest familiarity or relatability. We all feel as though we should be as nice and friendly and funny as we can to each other so we smile too widely and throw each other bones (or rather they throw me bones because they sense my exhaustion. which makes me hyperaware, which makes the entire situation miserable) and pretend that we get what each other happens to say. Sadly, this is the way one makes friends. Usually, the facade fades and you begin to understand each other on a very REAL level, making the initial stages worthwhile, and I guess I have to accept that. With everyone. The fact is I just don't want to do that anymore. If we have nothing to talk about, if I find myself smiling vaguely at everything you say or just asking you endless questions about yourself without feeling comfortable talking about anything that relates to me, then ding ding ding. Next. I don't want to work hard at this any longer. I did that too much in Denton, in Ventura, here. I just refuse to do it anymore. I'm too self concious and too tired. I miss my friends- I worked hard enough for their friendship, I shouldn't have to let them go and seek foriegn shores.
But I suppose we all must.
Maybe I am too lazy.
Anyway, the bright spot of this event is that I least discovered that there are people in my vacinity who do like decent music. Of course they're all very hip but I will so take that over interests like Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers and whoever does that song "you can have what-eva you lyke". Ohh and Disturbia. Perfectly tolerable song intially, then came the replay button. Plus I question any music that is inspired by a Shia LeBouf movie. Unless it's Transformers. I'd listen to that.
You know what the best part of the concert night was, though? The first night, that is, DeVotchka. When we all parted ways- the three of us, Jon with his New Possibility and me by myself- I sat in my car for awhile and watched them go- NP with her handmade headband of feathers and her French shawl and Jon with his new hip ways- and felt panicked and sad. It was a great realization, though, as I thought there, when I understood that she being his NP (though as the night wore on I began to detect that she was much more interested in her, and his interest seems to be chiefly curosity... but then the boy has grown weary, I can tell, so one never knows.. point is:) in no way made me sad. A year ago it would have crushed me. Now, sure, it makes me sad in a distant way if I think about it too long- she's got most of the qualities that I don't, and how is that fair and why couldn't I have been like that and bla bla, and it intensifies the feeling that everyone is going to move on in their lives and pair off but me (something I'm fairly sure of and don't have that much of a problem with)- but it doesn't make me jealous or tragic. It makes me happy for them. I told Jon what seems like ages ago on my driveway, before all hell broke lose, that when he found someone I'd be so happy for her. And so I shall. And that's a reassuring feeling- I can be a good friend after all.
I'm thinking of a theology minor.
Or German, though that's probably a bad idea.
Josh's birthday is tomorrow. I don't know what to get him. Maybe a Bible. Hahaha. I think I'm going to go to Vons and get him a cake and stop by Toys R Us to get him some WallE stuff, just to be cute.
Filming on that spoof show ended for me yesterday. Again, felt dreadfully self-concious the entire time but the director seemed pretty pleased with what I did for the character so that was fairly encouraging. It did make me all the more disapointed that I didn't get a part in the Rabbit Hole, however.
A kid who plays the nerd on the show who shall remain nameless because at the moment I can't particularly remember his name, has formed an attachment to me. Alright, this is fine, he's a really funny little freshman who knows he's a geek and goes with it, and I'd like hanging out with him from time to time, but alas he is very socially weird and clingy. And, like any other "guy" who's ever been interested in me the source of his interest is obvious: I am safe. I'm not some hot girl that's going to turn him down. I'm not a first choice, clearly, but I will do for the desperate. First of all, kids, don't think so little of yourself. If you find someone truly attractive, don't put them on a pedestal out of your league. If Candi with an I is the coolest girl around, go for her and don't "settle" for girls like me. Secondly, I will never be someone's alternative or fallback or safety school. Sue me. If you want me then Candi with an I isn't even in the picture.
It's situations like this that are going to make me a grouchy old hag.
On the upside, again, Marlena and her boyfriend and I went to go see Burn After Reading last night and I loved it. It's not really a movie I think anyone can really connect to or praise to the sky, and I believe the entire point of it is life is a clusterfuck. Wee. Wen, M's boyfriend, argued that the entire point of the movie was just to fuck with you, but I know the Coens don't necessarily operate that way. Of course they wanna mess with you at every turn and boy do they, but I can't think of a movie of theirs that didn't have some deeper theme or subtext. Have I mentioned I love character actors? I do.
Ah this felt good.
