Asterisks of enjoyment

*Played my first show with my amazing band and had the most fantastic time ever. Xylophone solo! Melodica solo! Banging out chords while people cheer!
*First therapy session for school. It went well but my god is it pricey It gives me hope that I am sane and that I will earn gobs of money for practicing therapy in the future which will get me over the psychological trauma of being a broke grad student with an entitlement issue.
*Started seeing a divorced man. This is a first.
*Got together with the ex from last spring. This is so not a first. We are made of awesome hilarity and awkwardness. He causes me so much joy and angst. Right now, we are in the joy zone so we're all good.
*Aborted dating a 6'5 guy because at first I felt like I was dating a tree. I later found out that he kissed like he was attempting to Hoover my face and that his manhood was smaller than some of my high heels.
*Drank absinthe for the first time. I only had two sips and felt like I was filled with the most amazing glowing goodness. A few friends had more and danced around the room then had no recollection of about half an hour of the evening.
*Got an acoustic guitar that smells vaguely like wine which makes me happy every time I play it. It makes me feel like Joni Mitchell for no good reason.

Angsty McStupidhead

The least palatable realizations come later in the evening, when I've had a good amount of time to stew alone. The revelation that I am in fact inessential to the lives of most, even those I care about, is deeply saddening and relieving all at once. There is nothing I can do to change this fact, which sets me into mild panic mode. There is nothing I can do about this, which instantly relaxes me. I cannot make him care about me. I can deal with it when he's calling me in the middle of the night. I can deal with it when he's messaging my dates online. I can deal with it when he's telling me I'm demanding. I can deal with it when he tells me he's busy. I can deal with it when he breaks my heart. I cannot deal with being ignored by him or by anyone else for that matter. The reason I want him to pay attention to me is because he's not, simple as that. It's vastly irritating that just when I think this stupidity is behind me then he appears and it's like just add water then *POOF* insta-lame-ass-drama. You know it's got to be lame with lame sauce because I am writing about it in my blog. It's not real angst unless it's on the internet.

Sasstacular!

No one is joining me in my friday night study party so I turned it into my friday night update my blog and futz around the house in an attempt to dodge homework party.
I found this clip and absolutely adored it. Who doesn't like snappy 8 year olds?

I'm a punk rocker, yes I am.

Band Practice is almost as good as Cupcakes

Everyone should join a band. It doesn't really matter if you have musical talent just trust me on this one and go for it. Sure, you may be the person playing the triangle but you are playing the triangle in order to help create a massive wall of sound that will temporarily engulf your very being. It's as good as eating cupcakes and I mean that. This isn't just the sleep deprivation talking.
Speaking of sleep deprivation, remind me to never ever book a show the night before a school day ever again. When I book a show the night before school, it apparently means that I will be going on an hour and a half late and thus getting little to no sleep before classes. This means that I will spend the first hour of class thinking about how I could potentially exit said class so I could sleep or how to discreetly sleep in class or how to kill myself becaue I'm not asleep. I will day dream about doing anything that involves sleep or making out because both of these things relax me. Talking about OCD while thinking about making out lends itself to great confusion.
Speaking of confusion, it's baffling when exes kiss you. Just when you thought it was safe to assume you were a rebound fling that inspired ongoing socially inept interactions, your assumptions are proven to make an ass out of you and....him. The whole situation is made tragically comical by the fact that you got multiple requests to sing the song that you wrote about your break up at the party he attended and so, with relative bemusement, you sang the lines "if this wasn't meant to be/then why do you keep kissing me" in front of him only to have him indeed kiss you. Is this irony or does my life just redefine sick humor? Don't try this at home, kids. Cape does not enable user to fly.

For real?

I just got an email from one of the djs over at Indie 103.1 informing me that they are going to play my song "Falling Down" on Head Trip within the upcoming weeks. After I stopped squealing (this took a good 5 minutes) I emailed back asking how to best promote this sort of thing. I also am utterly paranoid and was briefly convinced that the entire thing was the cruelest prank that anyone would ever pull, but that would mean that someone would have had to create an email that matched the name of the dj that I sent the cd to months ago, and would have selected one of my songs and found my email and....basically, it's far too elaborate and so I MUST HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO BE ON THE RADIO SOON. More information pending as I haven't heard back yet regarding details and I've given myself a headache from being so freakin excited. My god I am a huge nerd.

I'm spontaneous and full of books

Mary and I are going to start a blog about Los Angeles. This is just an avenue for us to rant and rave in our joking serious manner about fashion atrocities and where to find good mac and cheese. I want it to be like a real life Go Fug Yourself, as that blog delights me to no end, mixed with some helpful hints from LA natives. We'd explain things such as the artful left turn on the almost red light and how to not act like an ass in the Grove parking lot (though this seems to be an inherent trait of the Grove parking lot, making people act like asses).
I'm really full of english toffee and cinnamon rolls and coffee after snacking with reckless abandon with Mary. I want to work out but I feel like I'm in a sugar coma and will likely not even want to eat dinner tonight. Sugar binges are fantastic things to have maybe once every few months, particularly when they are coupled with a good cup of iced coffee from Bob's (Bob's is so gonna be mentioned in our LA blog). Once my food settles I will hop on the elliptical. I just got myself all psyched up for working out by putting on my yoga pants...these pants never fail in making me feel like I am remotely in shape for some unknown psychological reason.
I'm finding a good free time/music/tutoring ratio. This was my first week not working during the day and I found myself slightly depressed, as I tend to get when I have more idle time than structured time. This means I need to structure my own time, which is antithetical to my lazy personality but it means I won't mope around the house staring at random objects indulging myself in self-pitying thoughts. Maybe I should get a white board and make a nerdy art project out of my schedule. When did it stop being cool to get gold stars when you finished a task? Star charts are the best.
I'm really excited that I got three new books. I ordered them from Amazon so I could experience the thrill of getting something in the mail and the anticipation of new reading material. I think I'll order a new dress online soon so I can get all excited about spring time. I love being easily amused because it's so rare that I am bored.

Climb every mountain, scale every firewall

Today is my last day at the old interwebs company. Apparently, I did my job so well that I thought of too many ideas for our programmers and I have proven myself to be too intelligent for content management. Who cares how intelligent I am? I need the money. Damn me and my big brain and my big mouth for showing off at every unwitting turn. This is my first time getting fired from a job because I was too smart for my own good. At least my boss bought some Red Bull for me because he kept drinking mine from the fridge. That's my consolation prize for losing my 2 day a week brain-free job...a 4 pack of Red Bull with one missing.
I'll miss spending time with my coworkers, who come up with such gems as "we are from the tribe suckacock" and "mobgolians: we can scale any fire wall." I'm listening to Eli laugh his dirty old man from Brooklyn laugh as he listens to streaming comedy online and Steve is grumbling about how our phone site isn't working and randomly giggling, Clint is stoic as usual and Sheiva is now asking a question about a comment she designed. Soon I'll leave here for the last time and relinquish my ideal parking spot for my Saturday tutoring lessons.
I want a boyfriend to take up my remaining free time and give me back massages. Mainly, I just want someone to give me back massages, preferably while exchanging witty commentary. I met two interesting guys this weekend and given my luck, they are probably carrying on a torrid hipster writer affair with each other and only talked to me for their own deranged amusement. Aside from having delusional fantasies like the one above and the desire for back massages, I am actually rather happy being single for the first time since I've been back in LA. Prior to now, I wasn't driving myself crazy with activities like I am now so I felt the need to make boys my activity. Now, I have my music, a new band, school and tutoring. I'm excited to be losing this job simply to gain sleep.
On an unrelated note, I am very proud of myself for clearing up that entire brake light ticket incident in court yesterday. I managed to dodge more than $1000 in bail and fines by pointing out that I had a piece of paper that said that the violations on my ticket had been cleared. IN AUGUST OF LAST YEAR. Who doesn't love Kafka-esque experiences...and ellipses...and self conscious writing styles...