#17 is true. A girl kissed me aproximately 3 years, 2 months, and 2 hours after when i originally asked a girl if she’d kiss me.
Of course, i always remember wanting to kiss girls, from when i was very little. When i was five we went to Disney World, and there was one rather boring ride on a boat and i just remember that the most adorable girl was sitting across from me but i was afraid to look right at her because i felt like she would immediately know i was staring at her and i’d look like some dorky little five year old just smiling dumbly at the cutest six year old ever. So, yeah, i was setting up for romantic disaster very early on in life.
Anyhow, the girl who never kissed me was Juliana, and while i didn’t ask her to kiss me outright i would like to point out that our faces were very near to each other and it had never crossed my mind to kiss anyone ever before then in such an immediate fashion. So, while the actual question posed was whether or not she’d ever consider going on a date with me, it was only asked because the question we’re focusing on had been asked and answered in that are faces were still just near to each other. But, anyhow, we just wound up sharing lip gloss, and the rest is history.
As for my first kiss, it’s a topic i dance around constantly on this log without ever actually talking about it, because i talked about it entirely too much when it first happened. As you can easily see, i have no concept of secrets when it comes to myself so i didn’t think to keep my mouth shut about kissing someone – never thinking about if the someone would prefer me to keep my mouth just slightly less ajar than it was. I suppose it would have been better if i just continued to watch the replay of it in my head and not replay it for everyone else, but decisions are decisions and no one was hurt by any of it and life goes on (without us ever ever kissing again). So… no links to point you towards for this one, but if you’re a regular reader i’ll tie it all together for you; these three events coincide: first kiss, new years 2000, & “under my skin.”
Happy now?
stories
#14 is true. Come on, people, i’m a record addict. After reading the War Against Silence entries concerning the ordering of records and reading Hi Fidelity cover to cover in a matter of hours, i decided i needed an eclectic but fun way to organize my albums so that i always had a decent selection to pick from on any shelf. So, i took all the discs down from the shelf and started messing around with ten random discs that i had been listening to a lot recently. After a little idle experimentation (well, this whole ordeal is rather idle, isn’t it?) i decided ordering albums by the predominant color of their spines would be fun. However, once i had my 50 most played discs on the shelf i realized that Tori Amos was going to occupy the first, last, and middle spots of my collection, and that the plan was entirely unfeasible because if just three of her discs were already spread out that far then the addition of her twenty-some singles would cause me to have a heart attack trying to find all the beesides to make mix tapes with. The plan was thusly abandoned.
I have this mass creative urge and i don’t know where to focus it.
I used to have these days all the time when i was younger… i’d feel like i needed to output my thoughts somehow or else i would just endlessly spin in place for a whole day getting absolutely nothing done. My relief for this emotion in the olden days was either writing or playing with my G.I.Joes. Writing then was fiction rather than songs and blogs, so both forms of expression allowed me to create personas other than my own and then intermingle them all together in a storm of creativity that i could reflect upon later. If i was really stuck for resources i’d funnel all that creativity back into a pre-made creation like a novel, but that wasn’t ever wise because i could devour those books in a matter of hours and they would only leave me more hungry to create a piece of my own.
Songwriting was the perfect cure for the whole mess in two ways. The first was that even my longest song clocks in well under six minutes, so now i have a library of hundreds of facets of my own personality that i can trot out one after another, delve into deeply, and then end with a simple resolving chord (or lack thereof). The second was cover songs: the perfect way to focus my energy into someone else’s creative work but to still come out with my own product. Cover songs are much more productive in the long run than my old alternative of writing fanfics, which are inevitably not only totally invalid when held on their own but also totally the property of the originator of the universe the writing occurs in. Cover songs are not my own, but my interpretation of them is, and i’m always allowed to climb into the feelings a song portrays for a single performance, during which it’s as valid as any of my own songs.
However, my guitar occasionally fails me and i likewise have been known to fail it, whether it be due to a broken string or a lack of physical motivation to play. In some of these instances i’ve been left listessly strumming a G chord (or the remainders thereof) trying to get up enough rhythm and momentum to have a go at a song, but otherwise all of my energy would be wasted. That’s where this log came in last summer … a way to make sure that none of my creative energy would have to go to waste, and also a way to integrate my other creativity into one tangled web of personal thoughts and experience. However, as i become more and more comfortable with my guitar and my own voice (as a lyricist, as a blogger, and as a vocalist) i’m again branching out into other artistic and creative endeavors, which in turn can seem quite fruitless because i never created a mechanism to tie them back into this log. Shortly before this log came about i wrote half of a novella that ran over 100 pages, but it was hosted elsewhere on the internet and was based on years of other writing, so i left it to itself rather than ever mentioning it. During the run of the log i’ve continued to chip away at the novel i began six years ago in my endless churning loop of revision after revision to the same essential chapters, but it never manages to see the light of day. More recently i’ve been reviewing music somewhat consistently, and that i have managed to integrate into this domain at both jla and cor (though their participation with this page is usually limited).
It’s easy to see that i’m presented with several problems tied into this new creative urge of mine. The main issue is that i feel like any content that isn’t integrated into this log is essentially being forgotten before it’s ever found, and also that it’s liable to simply fade away from beneath my fingertips if i don’t sew it into my daily fabrication. I’ve been known to be hesistant about posting to the Ani Discussion Board, Shafted, or even the BlogVoices at Wockerjabby because i’m afraid that one precious paragraph of mine will fade into the ether of someone else’s site to never be retrieved again (a fate that blogger often forces onto posts of this epic length and breadth, which leaves me rather paranoid at the moment).
So, i have an obsession to track everything i do, and to tie it back into this very page. Is there any doubt about why i want a webcam? But, anyhow, i often lack in the motivation, organization, and programming skill it would take to seamlessly integrate all of my creativity into Crushing Krisis. However, where i fail in those latter two aspects i’ve been excelling in the first, and so things just like cor have been cropping up everywhere offering me and alternative for dispersing my creative output. Sadly and somewhat ironically all of these venus seem to be detracting from their intended nucleus: this very log.
And, so, i am left here with this mass creative urge but with nothing to blog and a currently irreplacable broken guitar string. And, i’m wondering what’s going to come out, and how i’m going to record it for posterity if it’s something worthwhile.
{some of the links in this entry have additional blog-length exposition that will show up in most browsers when you hover over them. enjoy.}
So, last night i went to a baseball game (yes, i know, it’s improbable). We didn’t quite have nosebleed seats, but we were high up enough that Veteran’s Stadium seemed more like an arena for the sky than a sports venu. When they announced a rain delay due to a thunderstorm watch people started streaming out of the open seats into the more protected areas but i stayed glued down as i contemplated the chance to watch the weather have its way with the world from the cheap seats.
Weather never really decided whether or not it was going to do a darn thing, as as a result we finally took cover just out of boredom and hunger. I’m not a big sports fan, so the wonder of walking around the circling circumference ramps of a major league stadium isn’t entirely lost on me although i have learned enough about market and captive economies to know better than to pay $2.50 for a bottle of water no matter how thirsty i am (and that they purposely buy spicy cheese for their nachos and sell only water and soda alongside them for outrageous prices). The big excitement came not from the weather or the overpriced concessions, but from some random South Philly girl who couldn’t have been older than 14 or 15 hitting on me while i was in line for the nachos.
If you’ve been reading for any length of time you’ll know that not too many young ladies seriously hit on me; to this day Selina denies flirting with me at any point up to and including when i first kissed her. And, i’ve especially never been hit on randomly at a sporting event by someone, and not just because i typically attend sporting events at the rate of one per two years. I’m thinking my lack of random events such as this one can be attributed either my going everywhere with my mother, my having too much hair, or my shopping in a totally flaming fashion. Last night i was with my friend Steve (who’s apparently equally eligible for random South Philly girls, since he was hit on after i didn’t give my number out), i’m sporting a sexy new haircut (well… the Sexy New Haircut), and i was all chill and guy-like with my beat up jeans (ask me if i let that happen intentionally) and my rapidly deteriorating mod-squad leather jacket. So, anyway, not that i’m especially keen on dating random jailbait from South Philly, but out of all the (equally Italian) guys she could have hit on she picked me. Or, maybe she hit on all of them. But, life has a way of inflating my ego whenever someone else lets the air out of it a little too much.
The only person i’ve ever consciously cut out of my life without a single look back was one of my best friends. One day i just realized that even though i trusted him and enjoyed talking to him i was a worse person for the wear. Just because you like someone doesn’t mean they’re anything good for you – and when i finally realized that i knew i had to simply say goodbye because i wasn’t a strong enough person to deal with him from day to day. I don’t know what i would’ve done if i had i keep seeing him every day; trying to combine civility (because he never did anything wrong) with my urge to erase him wholly from my life. I don’t think it would’ve worked out. I probably would have wound up worse for the wear of trying to be nice to him than i would have if i had kept being his friend. I’m honestly just not mature enough to find that middle ground. So i’m stuck right where i’m standing. Again.