|Life... But How to Live It?
||[Mar. 10th, 2012|07:33 pm]
"Gobs of hickeys with Duran Duran"
So I survived Florida. Philly has been pretty decent to me since I got back about a week ago. I had the realization that I still don't know how to deal with crushes, which makes me feel eternally 15. Otherwise, life is alright. Today has been all about researching music. It started off with the idea of playing a weird mix of alt country and noisy, droney stuff on my radio show tomorrow night and has since morphed into ... well, it's a bit out of control, though not in a bad way.
I dropped by the bar late last night and ended up in a really solid discussion with somebody who I've never much talked to before except in passing. When I'm in a shittier mental/emotional space, I feel like that's most of my social circle. When I'm not, I feel elated to connect with another person who I've known for years but am not particularly close with at all. I know a lot of people. That is a topic for another post.
But we talked for a long time, just shooting the shit and telling stories and talking about traveling and people and all sorts of things. She told me that she's buying a house soon and is going to need people to live in it and maybe one of those people could be me. I almost jumped up and down with giddiness. I'm still stuck at my old place. Honestly, it's not that bad. My room is huge, my rent is cheap, the location is pretty good. My only (oft repeated, by now) beef is that it's a completely anti-social house. I just haven't moved out cause my room is huge, the rent is cheap, and the location is pretty good.
The whole situation is annoying and makes me feel like a bit of a failure. That's probably also a topic for another post. Or not, cause I feel like I've talked about that enough. I hope that I can stop worrying about this in the near future because I'm obnoxiously sick of obsessing over it.
Story of my fucking life, eh? Weird awkward obsessions and the world not making sense. Quick, somebody teach me how to play the guitar! I'll make millions!
For the tl;dr crowd, here's my life in a paragraph:
I have thousands of records and a broken turntable. Unpublished interviews with Alec Empire and Amanda Palmer, amongst others. One paper to hand in for my degree and no real energy to work on it. I don't need discipline as much as a Ritalin prescription. Or maybe it's the other way around?