"I am trying to break your heart."
Because I'm going to Bluesfest this summer, and, assumedly, you aren't.
Unless, you, you know... are.
I suppose it's a suitable substitute for Lollapalooza -- even when I made the post about it, there were doubts as to whether it [Lolla] was actually feasible. (Mainly: my friends who are cool enough to dig those bands aren't allowed to go, and the friends who can go are not ones I'd like to tent with for a few days.)
Anyway, bluesfest. THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS, BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE, WILCO, KATHLEEN EDWARDS. IN OTTAWA. ENVY ME.
(The pure awesome-ness of this will almost cancel out the stupidity of missing when New Porn and BELLE AND FUCKING SEBASTIAN PLAYED WITH THEM. IN TORONTO. ONLY 1 AND A HALF HOURS AWAY. I WAS ON A DATE WITH A BOY I WASN'T EVEN THAT INTO INSTEAD OF SEEING THEM. STUPIDSTUPIDOMGCAPSLOCKSTUPIDSTUPID.)
I seem to only use this journal for bragging rights these days. I'm sorry. The whole thing felt rather pointless because no one reads it, and the fact I've been keeping a real antiquated pen and paper journal --leather bound no less!-- is a strong deterrent to rambling online as well. And, well, Satan (a.k.a myspace, spawn of temptation, etc.) sucked all the life out of my ElJay-ness for a while. And now that I want it back, well... I've had my computer removed from my room due to hiding behind a monitor too often in avoidance of life. Hardly a healthy pursuit, and I couldn't seem to handle moderation too well, so it's gone now. Computer for homework only. And following Sociology links on Wikipedia. And secret late night Gmail chats in absence of msn. And Sparknotes, not used to cheat at school, but actually reading for interests sake. (I read Catcher in the Rye and fell in love with it. I'm such a cliché. What next? Learning guitar? Oh shit. So long as I don't pick away at Stairway to Heaven melodies in attempt to learn something a wee bit more complex than Heart of Gold but not too complicated I actually have to work. ... ... FUCK. I mean, Stairway to Heaven. What was I thinking?)
Also, I wanna quit my job. I'm making 9 bucks an hour with tips, which is great, but I get... oh... you know... 2 HOURS NOTICE of when I'm on shift. On a good day. I'm constantly on call. Fer chrissakes, I'm a busgirl, not a doctor. I'd rather make minimum wage at a bookstore, or even, God forbid, fast food. At least they know when they are working a week before hand. I can barely imagine the luxury of that.
Unless, you, you know... are.
I suppose it's a suitable substitute for Lollapalooza -- even when I made the post about it, there were doubts as to whether it [Lolla] was actually feasible. (Mainly: my friends who are cool enough to dig those bands aren't allowed to go, and the friends who can go are not ones I'd like to tent with for a few days.)
Anyway, bluesfest. THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS, BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE, WILCO, KATHLEEN EDWARDS. IN OTTAWA. ENVY ME.
(The pure awesome-ness of this will almost cancel out the stupidity of missing when New Porn and BELLE AND FUCKING SEBASTIAN PLAYED WITH THEM. IN TORONTO. ONLY 1 AND A HALF HOURS AWAY. I WAS ON A DATE WITH A BOY I WASN'T EVEN THAT INTO INSTEAD OF SEEING THEM. STUPIDSTUPIDOMGCAPSLOCKSTUPIDSTUPID.)
I seem to only use this journal for bragging rights these days. I'm sorry. The whole thing felt rather pointless because no one reads it, and the fact I've been keeping a real antiquated pen and paper journal --leather bound no less!-- is a strong deterrent to rambling online as well. And, well, Satan (a.k.a myspace, spawn of temptation, etc.) sucked all the life out of my ElJay-ness for a while. And now that I want it back, well... I've had my computer removed from my room due to hiding behind a monitor too often in avoidance of life. Hardly a healthy pursuit, and I couldn't seem to handle moderation too well, so it's gone now. Computer for homework only. And following Sociology links on Wikipedia. And secret late night Gmail chats in absence of msn. And Sparknotes, not used to cheat at school, but actually reading for interests sake. (I read Catcher in the Rye and fell in love with it. I'm such a cliché. What next? Learning guitar? Oh shit. So long as I don't pick away at Stairway to Heaven melodies in attempt to learn something a wee bit more complex than Heart of Gold but not too complicated I actually have to work. ... ... FUCK. I mean, Stairway to Heaven. What was I thinking?)
Also, I wanna quit my job. I'm making 9 bucks an hour with tips, which is great, but I get... oh... you know... 2 HOURS NOTICE of when I'm on shift. On a good day. I'm constantly on call. Fer chrissakes, I'm a busgirl, not a doctor. I'd rather make minimum wage at a bookstore, or even, God forbid, fast food. At least they know when they are working a week before hand. I can barely imagine the luxury of that.