I have had Joy Division Love Will Tear Us Apart and Shorty Swing My Way alternatingly playing in my head for days . . .
This weekend has been fantastic.
Spent a few hours with EDV Thursday. Good talk. Really good talk.
Watched the game at Midway with BT Friday night; artichoke fritters, holy shit. Then drove to Paolo's for gelato while he wolf-whistled--indiscriminately--at passers-by out the car window. God. Hahaha.
Met my sister, her beau, and a couple of mutual friends at 420 Fest. Had a fresh-squeezed lemonade the size of my head. Nice walk there and back. Then got Fellini's with Jared. He makes me laugh. And his dimples are fucking killer.
House show in Griffin last night was ridiculous. I love house shows. And I love being around people who just don't give a fuck. Who are interested only and entirely in having fun. Also, there was a Firestorm cover. Krystal's afterward and the girl behind the counter definitely, audibly said, "OH. EM. GEE." with a horrified look on her face when 20 trashy hardcore kids filed through the door.
Portraits à la BT today, maybe. And finally meeting up with Scott for my butterfly. Yaahhh! Jared may tag along.
I miss my parents.
OH. One of my fourth grade girls found me on Myspace and sent me a message. I saw it last night and my world immediately came crumbling down. It probably doesn't make sense to someone who isn't involved with children for a living; this is not a good thing.
The message was really sweet. But she's 11 (barely) passing as 17 on a massive social networking site and living in a city notorious for sex trafficking and child exploitation. I considered writing her back and explaining that it's not appropriate for us to be friends on a site like this, or for her to be using it at all. Then I looked at her profile and my heart sunk:
i sometimes don't like my life.
Jesus Christ did it hit home in that moment that she is just a child. I instantly, physically remembered exactly what it felt like to be her age.
I'll talk to her on Monday.
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