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Kiwi Crocus
27 July 2009 @ 03:18 am
Holy flying frakmonster I did it. Made it through all the lj stuff.

I'm back. I'm sunburned. I miss having music all around me all the time. The festival was amazing and I need to get to many more festivals in my life. My ukulele was signed by amazing people.

I am being irresponsible staying up this late, so instead of updating on the evening right now, I'll post something fun.

I sent a Facebook message to Amy Speace, a musician I adore. I saw her live a bit at Falcon Ridge and I've seen her live a few times at Circle of Friends. Kinda lied in it in a roundabout way--I have played IN FRONT of my best friend, but I have not played FOR her, or FOR anyone--it has been a, "I can pretend these people are not listening with all my might so that I can play a little." And usually, the people weren't paying attention, so it all worked out. Anyway. Onto the message.

Thank you...Collapse )

Her response? My smile nearly cracked my face in two. It was sent a few hours after I sent mine. I love Facebookaholics.

kiwi
you are so sweet. thank you for this note and thanks for asking me to sign your Uke. And remember that it takes a 100 hundred falls to stand up straight and walk...

:) amy (de-mudded by now)



So. That's why things are epic. More stories when I'm not trying to go to sleep so I can wake up and shower and go to Trader Joe's and the Temp Agency with my mother. I'll have to take a typing test. And an interview.

Those things are less fun. But at least I'll have my ukulele close at hand.
 
 
Current Mood: ecstaticJoyful.
 
 
Kiwi Crocus
27 July 2009 @ 10:48 am
This is going to be an interesting shower.

I didn't get to brush my hair after yesterday's festival hose-held shower and I still have mud on my legs.

Temp agency today. I am going to try to stay in the moment and breathing, because this isn't the end of the world!

Even if it sorta feels like it. :3 But I have friends to call when it's over!
 
 
Current Mood: dirtyDirty.
 
 
 
Kiwi Crocus
27 July 2009 @ 11:52 am
I hate this part. I got myself all dressed up in a nice "Teacher Dress" and replaced my comfy Docs with sockless shoes I'll fall over in.

My father tells me I should take off some of my necklaces. I frown and take off two before it gets too painful. I let myself take off one more. He begins to give me a lecture, not entirely unpleasantly, but a painful one.

I tell him, "I can't take these two off. They don't come off. And they're my religion. And this one is the key my grandmother gave me for my heart..." He asks me what is work for, working or showing your "true self"? And maybe this is one of those things I will just never understand, but I think the latter should always be present, and I don't see why the two can't exist together. He said, "You know what, it doesn't matter: you've got the lip ring. People stereotype." I said meekly, "People with dreadlocks get jobs..."

It's just a rude reminder that I'm back home in this smothering society of soul-selling shite-work and out of the fantasy lands of Rowe and Falcon Ridge and Aggie, anywhere more embracing of an outer showing of Inner Self.

If I can type you off your face, why does it matter that I have metal in my lip? If I can be more pleasant on a phone than anyone could believe, why does it matter that I have hair on my legs? If I can brighten up a work area and be a true team member, why does it matter that I look a little different?

I think I need to work as the secretary of a writer. Most writers just get it. And hey, chances are I'd land with someone nocturnal and crazy like me.

I've got "Society's Child" by Janis Ian stuck in my head 'cause I saw her play it live, and I may not be in a relationship with a beautiful black girl, but somehow it all rings a similar note.

I'm off to try to sell my soul. Then maybe I can get it back at Trader Joe's.

Sigh.
 
 
Current Mood: depressedDepressed.