I went to see Lionize play at the Rock and Roll Hotel on a whim, since Dan mentioned he'd be there and that it would be a worthwhile set. I was a bit late and only managed to catch the first few songs by the opening band Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad, who were completely delightful. Vaguely reggae-ish and very happy and danceable.

The lead singer from Lionize reminded me a lot of Joshua Saunders, for some reason. They don't look much alike, but something in the way that he held his guitar and his gestures and facial expressions was very reminiscent of Joshua when he plays music, so I had yet another thing to be charmed by during their set. Oh, the lovely angular guitar riffs and buzzy beats! Everyone in the crowd was moving, which was a glorious thing to be a part of.

But the thing I really wanted to write about was the woman who approached me towards the end of the performance. We were dancing next to each other and she turned and smiled at me, and shouted, "Your jacket is fabulous, and so are your shoes!" Then she put her arm around me and we started swaying together to the music. I was surprised by the familiarity coming from this person who I'd never talked to. Not that I've never started dancing with a stranger at a concert before, but she was a lot older than most people that I run into at shows. Early forties I'd say, and astoundingly beautiful. So although I was startled, I was feeling happy and relaxed enough from the music to appreciate and welcome this gorgeous older stranger who wanted to dance with me. We bounced around and swayed together for a while, and smiled at each other constantly. At one point she leaned over and asked, "Are you as smart as you look?"

"I hope so," I replied thoughtfully, and she laughed and went off with her husband to get another beer. I danced bemusedly by myself for another song or two, after which she suddenly appeared again and grabbed me by the hand to lead me to the front of the crowd. I was offered a beer, which I politely refused but still felt touched that she had gotten me a drink. We spent the rest of the set jumping around together at the front.

After the end of the show she hugged me and said, "This is what you have to look forward to!" I introduced myself and learned that her name is Renee. A few moments of conversation revealed that neither of us had heard of the band before, we just both happen to like going to performances by people we've never heard of. She repeated, "This is what you have to look forward to! In several years when you've settled a bit and gotten used to being a smart woman, you'll realize that it really doesn't matter how you behave during your down time and you'll be so free! This is what you'll turn into! You've got this going on" (she tugged at the collar of my red leather jacket and gestured again at my shoes) "and now I'm dressed like this" (she gestured at her lovely and somewhat more business casual-like attire) "and this is what you'll be like at some point. I'm in my forties and I'm a trial lawyer and this is what I do on the weekend, and this is what you'll be doing too!"

Utterly taken aback, I simply said that I couldn't wait. She and her husband left, laughing and off to enjoy the rest of the night.

I know that was a bizarre anecdote, but I found it to be so inspiring. I really can't wait to be forty and not shy anymore, and so full of joy and confidence that I'll just start dancing with young strangers at shows (which I'll still be going to). Hopefully I'll be that hot at that age as well.

Sorry I haven't updated more. I've been so busy. I've also been so happy. A large part of my happiness comes from unexpected and strange moments of connection with people I don't know, often people who I'll never see again. This has been happening to me a lot lately. Please let this keep happening.

Signing out now.

So the sun has set in Berlin, and Yom Kippur has begun. I'm greatly enjoying my time in East Berlin (OMG modern art is coming out of my ears at this point!) and I'm looking forward to attending services in a German synagogue in the morning.

Today also marks my one year anniversary of being sober, except for the wine I drank on the holidays for Rosh Hashanah, Purim, and Passover. I'd like to make it another year, so I guess that counts as my resolution.

I'll write more about my beautiful life later, when I'm not about to be kicked off of the computer and also not immersed in German adventures.

Signing out for now, darlings.

I would like to relate the tale of The Cowboy.

Two days ago an attractive man in a cowboy hat walked into Bardia's with two friends. I instantly liked him because of his genial manner, and we kept up a friendly banter every time I brought drinks to his table. He also asked for my name and referred to me as such, which was nice. It seems like such a simple, obvious thing. Addressing someone by their name is supposed to be a very basic tool for manipulation. And even knowing this, it still feels heartwarming every time a customer seeks to find out who I am instead of just rattling off their order.

After his meal, The Cowboy came up to the bar to pay his bill and exchanged greetings with the woman sitting nearby. Turning to me, he winked and said, "Put her meal on my tab."

"Excuse me?" the woman interjected, feeling as surprised as I was.

"You should know that sometimes nice things will just descend on you," he said with a nod while handing over eighty dollars to pay for both tables along with a generous tip.

He smiled at me while I happily handed him his change, and for a heart stopping moment I thought he might ask what time I was going to get off work. Instead, he just tipped his hat and walked out the door, probably off to save some orphans or something.

I may or may not have posted about this in the Missed Connections ads on Craigslist, as per Jen's advice.

It's funny how my demeanor changes so drastically while I'm in that place. Sometimes I have actual conversations with people, but very often it's more like I'm working to maintain a very cute and charming facade.

My tone transforms, I become this bright and perky thing. Hello! Good afternoon! Welcome to Bardia's New Orlean's cafe! Have a seat anywhere and I'll be right over with some menus! My voice becomes saccharine, oozing with a terrible eagerness to please. It's strange to spend all day talking like that and then hear myself speak to someone when I get off work and sound so relatively apathetic and monotone.

To the millionth person who tells me that I have a British accent/attitude (I get that everywhere, even when I talk normally), I explain that I was born Silver Spring.

Customer: Maybe it's just because you seem so formal, without being cold. That's a very British mannerism.
Me: Well, I'm very glad that I don't come off as cold!
Customer: They go crazy when they have a few drinks in them though. I hear that after five o'clock, most British people are out on the streets, hollering and vomiting. Is that how you are too?
Me: Oh yes sir, that's how I am every day after I get off work at five. *he holds up his pocket watch displaying that it is 5:05* Ooh, it's after five... shucks!

Laughter, repetitions of my exclamation of "Shucks!", assertion that, "white girl loves to party!"

I'm cool with it, it's all about my 35% tip.

This isn't meant to indicate displeasure with the falseness of dealing with customers, I just thought it was a funny thing to reflect upon. I'm still very happy that I got this job. Life is beautiful. I've spent the last few days smiling and also listening to the music that Kt put on my iPod last week. OMG Dave Zelonka, Emperor X, Beulah!

Speaking of which, I should head to work. Signing out now!

It has truly been a crazy and remarkable week. Please excuse all of the mortifying honesty that I'm about to unload. I'm still not sure how all of these exciting things happened in such a short space of time.

WARNING: THIS ENTRY IS 7,000+ WORDS

( Monday: Running from authorities in the most romantic way )

( Tuesday: The music, the friends, the opportunities, the good deeds, the overall SEXINESS of life )

( Wednesday: Lazy, lazy day )

( Thursday: Some baking, more frolicking )

( Friday: Being trained at Bardia's Cafe in the morning, and one crazy bachelorette party )

( Saturday: Driving to Towson, failing to see a concert, and playing in the park )

We slept till a little after noon on Sunday and then had brunch with my parents, who had prepared some corn on the cob. They got along well, and I enjoyed hearing Dan talk about his trip to Haiti last year to help build a school and also a discussion about the history of Haiti and how the French language had come to be corrupted in the past few hundred years because of it.

I could tell that my parents liked him, and after I dropped him off and came back my mom commented on how interesting and attractive he is. And then gave me a high five, and teased me for having Whitney over on one night and Dan the next.

I stayed in for most of the day after that, and had a very interest late night chat with Henry Mills, who asked for my perspective on some verses to a song he was writing. I was flattered that he wanted my opinion, and we had a good talk about heterosexual norms and the intolerant attitudes against gays and women often expressed by hip hop artists which he wanted to address.

I'm going to start my first day of work at the cafe tomorrow, and then I'm going to go to Virginia to see Rowan's family and watch the meteor shower at their friend's farm, so I need to get to bed. Signing out now!

Nearly four years ago, I bought a beautiful and expensive singing bowl from some Tibetan Buddhist monks who were taking a lecture tour through the country to raise money for their monastery. The monk who sold it to me demonstrated its usage, but I could never get the damn thing to work. I've been able to coax clear ringing sounds from other meditation bowls that I've encountered, but for some reason mine would never sing for me despite lengthy and repeated attempts over the years.

At the end of June, I met up with Rowan's family in Adam's Morgan for lunch. We wandered though a few shops afterwards, and happened upon a store that had a few singing bowls on the shelf. Rowan's father Chris had never heard of them before, and was amazed by the effect. He described the experience of holding one in his hand while circling the rim with a small wooden handle and listening the the ringing sound as one of the most peaceful feelings in his life. I told him that I had one, and that he was welcome to it.

I haven't seen them since then, but the other day I left a comment on Chris's Facebook profile asking when I could get that bowl to him. Rowan's mother Yolanda promptly responded and invited me to meet up with them on Tuesday for a star-gazing party to view the Perseids meteor shower. I'm so excited to see the Copley family, and shooting stars, and for the overall beauty of a night time picnic with acoustic guitars. I ran up to my room and located the bowl so as to be ready to leave with it when I head out on Tuesday, and thoughtfully ran the wooden handle around the rim one last time.

It worked. I couldn't believe it, but beautiful vibrations began to build up almost immediately. It seems like this should be such a small thing, but it wasn't. In that moment it seemed symbolic of how much I've changed in the past few years, perhaps a little bit closer to serenity though I haven't achieved it yet. It also felt a little heartbreaking, to manage to play this bowl right before I give it away, but at the same time I was and am so glad, to experience this right before relinquishing it and also over the wonder that it will provide Chris.

I can't wait to see them. Perhaps I will never be able to fully describe how much that family means to me, how much joy and magic they've given me (so much that I can't even remember it all, because on some days when it feels like you're being bombarded with whimsy and beauty it's impossible to hang onto it all).

Must remember to burn a copy of the Woodworking CD for Rowan as well.

Signing out now, as I need to get some baking done as Kelly's Bachelorette party is tomorrow, OMG OMG.

For breakfast: French toast made with challah bread and topped with blueberries.

No actual lunch, but in between lunch and dinner I ate: 1. Sno-Cone with cinnamon and blueberry flavoring with homemade marshmallow and chocolate topping. 2. One of those little honey straws that you can pick up in country stores. I impulsively picked up the blueberry-flavored honey because of its bright turquoise color.

For dinner: Delicious pasta dish with fettuccine, mushrooms, spinach, and pink sherry cream sauce. Oh yeah, and a salad with gorgonzola cheese and BLUEBERRY vinaigrette dressing!

I totally didn't plan that, it just happened and it was magical.

HOLY SHIT I HAVE TO START PREPARING A SPEECH FOR GREG AND KELLY'S WEDDING!!!!!!!

EP Girl postponed dinner till Monday, so my day actually went as follows: Lunch with Lizzie at Bombay Gaylord, where she imparted information about endocrine systems and we also had nostalgic conversations about friends over delicious Indian food. Also I was introduced to a new thrift store, right near the downtown Silver Spring area! I really need to get more in touch with my hometown.

Favorite moment of conversation...

Me: Hey Lizzie, do you still have that awesome cat purse that you bought a few years ago?
Lizzie: Which one? I have a bunch of cat purses.

Afterwards Kat came over to my house, and we took a walk in the park and stared at a few deer on the trail. I know it's silly of me because the deer are everywhere now, but I never fail to become excited when I see one. Little narrow face and big ears! The trembling suspicion of the young bucks wondering if they should charge me or peacefully go on their way! DOE EYES! The sheer awesomeness of a wild animal taking a moment to pay attention to you, somewhat like what I imagine darsan feels like...

And there were silly jokes about fantasy stereotypes, all that good stuff. Oh, and my favorite moment from dinner, while discussing ways to make money...

Richard Hell: I can't sell my sperm because I have a history of mental instability.
Me: Also because you're SHORT. Nobody wants your short babies!
Richard Hell: *stares at me with mute rage while my dad bursts out laughing*

Oh yeah, but the main thing I wanted to write about is this: I finally got around to getting some of Patrick Wolf's wonderful music. And when I woke up this morning I just felt tired, and inclined to doubting all of my endeavors, as in "Why do I even bother trying to chase women when I feel too apathetic to connect with anyone? And why do I keep talking about this silly idea of volunteering abroad when I know deep down that it's foolish and unfeasible? And why is it that I only really feel normal and at ease when I'm in a crowd of strangers flailing into each other while listening to grating music (seriously, at no other time)? Any why do I keep trying to convince people on LJ with these posts that I'm interesting when it all comes out as either melodramatic masturbation or the flightiest inanity possible?" And then I started listening to PW's Lycanthropy album and that magically went away. So instead of deleting my LJ I'm just gonna keep writing these self-indulgent little rants, and damn the imaginary judgement that I'm so convinced I receive!

Thanks, Patrick Wolf!

Signing out now.

( Wandering around Foggy Bottom with Whitney followed by lesbian Jello wrestling at Phase One )

Oh and here's a list of concerts I've been to recently that I feel guilty for not having posted exhaustively long accounts of. A huge recap entry coming soon, I hope!

May 29th Scumbag Nation show
Tallest Man On Earth/John Vanderslice
The Hold Steady
Jaguar Love/Patrick Wolf
Punk collective at the Ottobar featuring Teenage Bottle Rocket
Voyage in Coma and some interesting Irish bands
Spoke Ensemble/Cream Center show

And I need to go prepare to meet up with Lizzie and then have dinner with the Ellen Page girl who may or may not be named Talia, so signing out now!

Last time I saw Whitney was Wednesday. There was dinner at an Asian fusion restaurant, dancing at Cafe Citron, lounging + talking in a hookah bar, and at the end of the evening a stroll around the lake behind her house. One of the things that sticks in my mind:

(during a discussion of various disorders which were studied during an undergrad Psychology course)

Her: But there's no textbook that could explain me.
Me: Psssh, maybe I just haven't written it yet.
Her: *smiles and delivers a short tinkling laugh*

It really gets me, this arrogance that comes from liking someone and forming a tenuous connection with them. It drives me to say such obnoxious things, to have pretenses of omnipotence, and it drives her to be charmed by my ridiculous mannerisms instead of scorning them. That's probably more obscene than anything else we could do with one another.

Still, despite my constant self-observations and critiques, I'm pleased to be in this situation. Perhaps I'll even write about it in a more in-depth fashion.

( I wrote months ago about how much I wanted to see Mairead, and how initially devastated I was when she ended up canceling our dinner plans in January (allegedly the plans were only delayed but there was never any talk of trying to meet up again). I still feel a slight ache as a result of having spent the last half year vainly making attempts to reach her via text and voicemail. It's not something that crushes me, there's just a mild yearning to see her one more time before she moves away with her soon-to-be husband. It makes me want to keep trying to call her to beg for a meeting, and say, 'This isn't that important, actually. Ignoring me all summer is a perfectly viable option because this ache will go away once you've moved and the prospect of seeing you is no longer even hypothetically reasonable. I'm not asking you to save me from a heavy blow to my heart or even my ego. Even so, I'm still begging you to save me, please save me from vague disillusionment and momentary distress!' )

And of course it's evident even to me that my life is very fortunate if that is all I have to fret about. Silly me.

Quote of the Day, by Frans while mumbling to Claire: "You're just like, the worst person ever to sleep next to. Your feet are like these two renegade guinea pigs who keep burrowing against each other. They haven't realized that they can be friends and keep each other warm so all of the blankets end up getting kicked down around your ankles."

!!!

I haven't spent Senior Week in quite the same way that I'd intended, but it has been good. Last night I finally got around to sleeping outside. I took my blanket and settled down in the tall grass by the edge of the pond near my house. It felt so peaceful and therapeutic to fall asleep listening to the noisy cries of the mating bullfrogs, and even more of a joy to wake up early due to the rising sun and one particularly territorial red-winged blackbird who kept flying a few feet over my head while emitting piercing chirps every few minutes. I couldn't be resentful of it though, because I love the red-winged blackbirds for being so dapper and beautiful with their shiny black bodies and sprightly stripes of red and sometimes a tinge of yellow on their wings. I sat up and delightedly gazed at the pink, orange, yellow, white and purple flowers blooming around me and the birds fluttering around the pond. The red-winged blackbirds are so cute, and I am always endeared when I witness their ability to carefully perch at the top of a single stem of the swaying grass which grows out of the pond.

I really want to sleep outdoors more often. If I did, my Circadian rhythm wouldn't be messed up because it's so easy to wake up early and gradually as the light slowly pours in as opposed to being wrenched from sleep by some blaring jangly noise. One of the nicest things about my semester abroad last fall was that I couldn't figure out how to get the alarm clock purchased in Carrefour (Thailand's version of Walmart) to work and instead ended up just putting my bed by the window and leaving the shades up so that the sun would wake me up in time to take a shower and have breakfast before class every day. And this was even better.

Signing out now.

( Further adventures of Fun Club on April 30th. 200+ words )

Okay, off to run naked through campus while wearing a cheerful springtime-themed strap-on and possibly get arrested!

( Pilgrimage to Gettysburg )

Signing out now. MAY YOUR SUDS BRING YOU JOY.

( Philosophy presentations and mud wrestling should be combined more often )

I will be taking a road trip to see Marc Beard in a few hours! I can't wait!

Signing out now.

I walked out to the graveyard after class let out yesterday and spent a while walking around in a slightly depressed daze. A beautiful moment arose as I walked past the hill which faces the river and thought, I could... roll. It seemed silly, but eventually I gave into the impulse and sent myself hurtling downwards. I picked up speed at a much faster rate than I anticipated, and was gasping for breath when I slammed to an abrupt halt where the ground levels out right before reaching the water. My vision continued to roll wildly for several seconds after the stop, and I had a brief period of peacefully not thinking at all. I just lay sprawled out on my belly, panting and peeking up that the sky around the blades of grass obscuring my vision and idly studying the tiny insects crawling on the blades in front of my eyes. This moment of thoughtless authenticity came to a crashing halt as I started thinking about how to write about the experience, and I angrily exclaimed, "Fuck you Livejournal! You've poisoned the way that I experience life!"

I spent a while walking around that general area, and then retreated to the small nearby chapel to take cover from the rain. I think I spent about an hour sitting by myself, simply staring at my surroundings and occasionally paging through the prayerbook. At some point while waiting for the rain to end, I started listening to "Lord, I'm Discouraged" on my iPod and tears started rolling down my cheeks. I felt curiously disconnected from my emotions just then, and my main thought was simply, "Yeah I'm listening to this song while sitting in a church and weeping. I am the absolute cliche of a Hold Steady fan!"

Talking to Patrick on the balcony of the Campus Center helped me a great deal in getting over my concerns about the events of Sunday morning. I'd already talked about the issue quite a bit at that point, but I mainly got irritated by everyone who kept trying to use their personal positive opinion of me as evidence of my lack of culpability. Every time someone tried to reassure me I just ended up wanting to scream, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?" Patrick didn't really deny the possibility of culpability, but was so coolly confident in the opinion that my actions were still fairly reasonable and not damning that I felt this peace settle over me. Perhaps the timing also had something to do with it, since I might have required a day to approach my thoughts in a more rational manner. There was one moment when he said that the sheer amount of time I'd spent angsting over the situation was good evidence for supporting the fact that I'm not a malicious or thoughtless person, and right then I stopped breathing and felt like I might burst into tears again. I looked down and he grew quiet, and then I exhaled and the moment passed.

I ended up staying up all night in W.C. 37, with some time devoted to reading and analyzing Sartre and Camus and a larger amount of time having beautiful honest conversations with everyone in the common room. What a poignant yet joyous atmosphere that was. I think that when I reminisce about college later on in life, last night will stand out as a particularly amazing highlight.

I have so much work to do this week, and I want to ebulliently respond by shouting, fuck you, life! I WILL prepare a presentation for Professor Schroeder and another presentation for Professor Taber and write a paper for Professor Norlock AND make some decent headway on the massive process of editing my senior thesis, AND still have time to drive to Pennsylvania this weekend to visit Marc Beard. I'm so filled with resolve, I'm like this glorious shining creature.

May your suds bring you joy.

( My magnificent day, let me tell you about it )

All in all, a lovely day. Signing out now. And of course, may your suds continue to bring you joy.

First draft of my senior thesis is DONE.

During the process of writing it, sometimes I would start to feel really overwhelmed and unhappy. When that happened, I would try to break the project down into very small segments and reassure myself about how do-able it was. Then I would add, "Totally do-able. Like your mom!" Usually there wasn't anyone else present for me to insult their mother, but I would still laugh like mad and feel better.

Hypothetical "Your Mom" jokes: The key to my preserved sanity.

Some might argue otherwise.

( Scavenging for coupon pennies, music swapping, and fist fights! )

Signing out now.

( Click here if you think you can handle the awesomeness )

Signing out now.