living for the weekend
Wow, this is messed up. There's this student of my fathers staying with me at the moment. I first bumped into her several years back in Croatia at a violin class my father was teaching. Last summer she decided to take private classes with my dad and drove about 400 miles to come here. First thought coming to my mind would be:"Wow, she's real serious about learning music" Instead of practicing between lessons she hangs out with me. Rather than getting a good nights rest after a 9 hour journey she goes clubbing.
I hate to watch people waste my fathers time like that. And mine for that matter. Ten minutes into our conversation I was left with nothing to tell her. This was after going over ALL the details of her trip and various explanations as to where the deep cuts in her hands had come from. (Mending her car) All other violinists I know are extremely careful about their hands for obvious reasons. Oh well who am I to judge.
One thing that makes talking to her so difficult is that she doesn't seem to have an opinion. I ask her anything and all I ever hear is a vague agreement of whatever it was. "Are you hungry? nah... If I cooked would you eat? I guess so.. Do you like food? yeah... what kind? doesn't matter...
That's with the easy questions.
And here she is again.
After a long break from writing this due to a very nosey girl I can finally get back to the story. Last night we were supposed to go clubbing but I wasn't so thrilled about the idea due to recent memories from the night before. It was late, I wanted to go home and as always she didn't really mind. I wasn't going to leave without saying good-bye to the other people I knew at the club. When I looked over to where I had left her talking to my brother I thought I saw the two making out.
Can't say that I've been very nice to her since then. And I get a cold shiver every time she touches me. She claims that she pushed him away and it was all my brothers fault. When asked he said I had told him to do it. ??? His other reason was because he could. That was friday night. Saturday night I cooked reluctantly which says everything really. Before we hit the streets we watched Training day. She wasn't too good at understanding the english and fell asleep. I used the time to make some calls and find a few people going out in Bonn. I checked the schedule and invented a text message from Simon asking me to meet him at work for a bit of a private chat.
Just before midnight I scrammed. Caught a train to Bonn, and put lies and some 20 miles between us. I hadn't bothered to get directions to the club but found it all the same. 30 minutes after leaving the house I was bouncing to "hard-fi", "gorillaz" and "the streets". The place was packed and I did something of which I thought I had learnt better after October 17th 2003. I met a girl. We got on really well. Parted on good terms and left it up to fate to bring us together again. It's just so cliché to ask a girl for her number when at a club. But also so bloody necessary. I know her first name and what her back feels like when sweating on the dance floor. Just for everyones information: a) Jenny b) nice. That should be enough to find her. Right?
If all else fails it will be a great motivation to go to Bonn everyday. She has to eat. If only I knew if she was vegetarian. Or her phone number for that matter. I would even settle for last name, current address, course schedule. I got back at 4 a.m. and fell asleep in the living room after having a pizza to buffer the hangover. At 10 I was awake long enough to take a shower and get into my own bed next to Melissa. I love having a huge bed and separate blankets. She asked me how might night was assuming I had only just gotten in. I invented a story involving me, Simon, the pizza and falling asleep downstairs. Only some of which was a lie but none of which could account for the open train schedule on my computer, the hangover, Simon's phone call in my absence or 40 pages of book I read on my way to meeting "Simon" and back. Did I mention the great images in my head and the warm fuzzy feeling?
I slept another 3 hours before having to cook for three people with nothing in the house. She slept most of the day while I busied myself around the house. After 4 hours of uncomfy silence She finally was talked into practicing by Max. All we have to do now is get through the night involving a work christmas party and she will leave and I can tell her to go to hell with a safety also known as telephones between us. I know I'm a bad person, but if she invites herself over and my dad tries to give me a guilty conscience for not talking her into leading a better life, what am I supposed to do. It's not like I'm doing to good a job at getting my life straight.
john
I hate to watch people waste my fathers time like that. And mine for that matter. Ten minutes into our conversation I was left with nothing to tell her. This was after going over ALL the details of her trip and various explanations as to where the deep cuts in her hands had come from. (Mending her car) All other violinists I know are extremely careful about their hands for obvious reasons. Oh well who am I to judge.
One thing that makes talking to her so difficult is that she doesn't seem to have an opinion. I ask her anything and all I ever hear is a vague agreement of whatever it was. "Are you hungry? nah... If I cooked would you eat? I guess so.. Do you like food? yeah... what kind? doesn't matter...
That's with the easy questions.
And here she is again.
After a long break from writing this due to a very nosey girl I can finally get back to the story. Last night we were supposed to go clubbing but I wasn't so thrilled about the idea due to recent memories from the night before. It was late, I wanted to go home and as always she didn't really mind. I wasn't going to leave without saying good-bye to the other people I knew at the club. When I looked over to where I had left her talking to my brother I thought I saw the two making out.
Can't say that I've been very nice to her since then. And I get a cold shiver every time she touches me. She claims that she pushed him away and it was all my brothers fault. When asked he said I had told him to do it. ??? His other reason was because he could. That was friday night. Saturday night I cooked reluctantly which says everything really. Before we hit the streets we watched Training day. She wasn't too good at understanding the english and fell asleep. I used the time to make some calls and find a few people going out in Bonn. I checked the schedule and invented a text message from Simon asking me to meet him at work for a bit of a private chat.
Just before midnight I scrammed. Caught a train to Bonn, and put lies and some 20 miles between us. I hadn't bothered to get directions to the club but found it all the same. 30 minutes after leaving the house I was bouncing to "hard-fi", "gorillaz" and "the streets". The place was packed and I did something of which I thought I had learnt better after October 17th 2003. I met a girl. We got on really well. Parted on good terms and left it up to fate to bring us together again. It's just so cliché to ask a girl for her number when at a club. But also so bloody necessary. I know her first name and what her back feels like when sweating on the dance floor. Just for everyones information: a) Jenny b) nice. That should be enough to find her. Right?
If all else fails it will be a great motivation to go to Bonn everyday. She has to eat. If only I knew if she was vegetarian. Or her phone number for that matter. I would even settle for last name, current address, course schedule. I got back at 4 a.m. and fell asleep in the living room after having a pizza to buffer the hangover. At 10 I was awake long enough to take a shower and get into my own bed next to Melissa. I love having a huge bed and separate blankets. She asked me how might night was assuming I had only just gotten in. I invented a story involving me, Simon, the pizza and falling asleep downstairs. Only some of which was a lie but none of which could account for the open train schedule on my computer, the hangover, Simon's phone call in my absence or 40 pages of book I read on my way to meeting "Simon" and back. Did I mention the great images in my head and the warm fuzzy feeling?
I slept another 3 hours before having to cook for three people with nothing in the house. She slept most of the day while I busied myself around the house. After 4 hours of uncomfy silence She finally was talked into practicing by Max. All we have to do now is get through the night involving a work christmas party and she will leave and I can tell her to go to hell with a safety also known as telephones between us. I know I'm a bad person, but if she invites herself over and my dad tries to give me a guilty conscience for not talking her into leading a better life, what am I supposed to do. It's not like I'm doing to good a job at getting my life straight.
john