Feeling:
Listening to:
Reading/Watching:

There goes my pain, there goes my chains- did you see them falling? 'Cause of this feeling that has no meaning, there goes the world off of my shoulders... You can't change me, you can't break me; there goes the world off of my shoulders. ~ Lifehouse, "Quasimodo"

I believe I promised y'all a description of Spring Break, didn't I? Well, as time goes by it seems less interesting. I was going to write it in short story form, but decided it'd be too pretentious. So yeah. Here's an overview.

Saturday night I was still at school for a Women's Chorus appearance. Sara asked Abigail and me to join, since they needed more people, and it turned out that the entire choir consisted of seven people, including us.

It took me a while to realize that the women in the choir were lesbians. I'm oblivious like that, see. I suspected maybe one or two, but then Sara and Abigail confirmed it: All but the three of us were. As was the director.

Oh, well, no problem, right? Then we go to the museum where we're making our first public performance. We're asked to pin on rose corsages, and as we're exclaiming over them, we realize a rainbow ribbon is pinned to each. We kinda grin at each other, and start the concert.

I think we three might have been the only straight people in the room. Possibly the building. Maybe even the city block. After I mentioned that the comedienne had a rather deep voice, Sara whispered to me that she was a he.

Afterward, we were invited to stay and eat, but our director, Mark, teased us that "You have to pretend to be gay."

Sara and I immediately put our arms around each other. Hee hee, it was fun.

We tried to stay and eat and not be uncomfortable with the situation, but when our old pianist, Peter, walked up to say hello and exclaimed, "I didn't realize you three were lesbians!" we decided it was time to go.

Eating dinner at Jim's, we ate slowly, joked about the spiky orange hair of the guy next to us, made fun of Enrique Iglesias, occasionally burst into quiet little song (because we're musicians, you see. You want someone who doesn't start singing for no reason, don't hang with singers), and every once in a while Abigail would pipe up, "I like men."

Sunday morning I drove home, and Monday Puppy and I celebrated his birthday, about three weeks late. He'd just turned sixteen and had his permit, so I let him drive my car a bit. He scraped a curb, but Luna's okay.

Get this: the boy chose Barnes & Noble, Jason's Deli, and Blockbuster for his birthday present. Do you not love him? I was worried we were off to Hooters or something. We sat in the bookstore reading for a couple hours, got lunch, rented Traffic and Ghost World. I bought him High Fidelity by Nick Hornby.

I ::heart:: my brudda.

We came back to Barnes & Noble three times during spring break, because Puppy found the book I've been searching for since 2000: Sword-Sworn, by Jennifer Roberson (I love my brother). It was in hardback, of course, and I'm really not ready to spend twenty-five bucks on a book, so I plopped down in their little armchairs and read it, cover to cover, in three sittings. They set out the chairs, so I don't consider it stealing.

I spent enough on tea and hot cocoa to make up for it.

Much of the break was spent lounging around the house, downloading mp3s, watching movies on cable, eating grilled cheese and tuna fish sandwiches, all in our pajamas. With anyone else it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. We kept doing idiotic things like "couch Chinese fire drill" and quoting Eddie Izzard to each other. He even helped me wash my car. Did I mention I love him?

Thursday I met Chris for dinner. Even though I invited him, he insisted on paying. Adorable boy. I haven't seen him for over a year, and I've missed him terribly, but as we spoke, I realized something. The spark is gone. We're still comfortable, we still connect on everything, we still laugh and act goofy and talk endlessly about things that only we would find interesting. But it's like talking to my brother.

I've wasted a lot of time wishing Chris were pining for me. Wondering what he was doing, whether he missed me. Since we never officially broke up, just sort of drifted, I guess this is normal. I've always been glad that we stayed friends, that I've never had a "hard" break-up. But when our eyes met I didn't feel that little zing up my spine anymore. His eyes are still amazing, but they don't pull me in anymore.

We sat talking until everyone else in the restaurant left. The waiters began cleaning all the tables, still we chatted. Every single chair in the place was turned upside down on the tabletops, but he and I were still talking. Finally, we admitted we should probably go.

The manager had to unlock the door to let us out, and in the parking lot we hugged goodbye, and like everything else, it lacked its spark. He's just not for me anymore. And I'm not for him. This makes me feel a lot better, actually.

He did not ask about Charlie Brown, even though they were friends before I knew CB, even though Chris doesn't realize he transferred. He didn't ask, and I didn't answer. I think it best if he never knows.

Saturday I met another friend, Nikki, and we went to see 40 Days and 40 Nights and out to dinner at Sweet Tomatoes. The movie was funny, rather gross, cute in spots, and halfway through I saw a family walk out, with their five year old son in tow.

What is wrong with you people? No wonder you're walking out- you took a little kid to see an R-rated movie! A very R-rated movie!

Ugh. This is almost as bad as when I saw little kids in Scary Movie, except... no, this is worse. Scary Movie, you could arguably say you didn't know it would be so out-and-out perverted and digusting. But this? The entire premise of the movie centers around sex, you twits!

Grrr.

On my last day, Dad got really mad at me. Because one of my hubcaps was broken, after Puppy hit that curb. Of course, I can't tell him who was driving because according to the new law, he's not supposed to be behind the wheel without someone over 21 next to him. Dad yelled at me for about an hour. I wanted so badly to stand up for myself, but a little lost pride isn't that big of a deal. Dad already thinks I'm an imbecile; it doesn't matter.

I think Spring Break is the perfect length of vacation, because it's long enough to enjoy without dragging on until you want it to end.

So anyway. I need to get started on my project with Black Holes. The band is on a trip, that means I have no music classes, whee!

But... that means the band is on a trip. No Sam. No Victor. No Virgie. No twins. No Mike. No Patsy. No John. No Drew. Very, very sad.

Comments? 0 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.