shroud ourselves in the cosmos; let the music play

so it ends, as quickly as it began. christopher and i had a long talk last night, and we decided it's better to be friends for now, until we both work out more of our issues. i understand, and i'll be okay. it's just -- i really wanted this to work, you know? he's the first person i've liked that i was already really good friends with and would not be extremely destructive for me, and he's just wonderful all around, and for some reason he likes me, too... it could have been fantastic. i think we understand each other better now, though. so, maybe later.

1) I am back in Long Beach and totally ready for the hanging of out! Woo summer!

2) Cute Singer and I are together and it still hasn't quite sunk in, I think. Anyway, he's a bass-baritone, his name is Christopher, and he is from San Diego. And he is very, very good at the cuddling.

So it took the entire week to "screw my courage to the sticking place," but I did it. Here's how it went down, eh:

[3:00 a.m. Your Friend Sigma (and if you're reading this, you are indeed my friend) and Cute Singer are walking to their dorm (as they live in the same building), having been dropped off by Sigma's Co-Conspirator Zachary (who has recently hosted a movie night, replete with girly Green Apple Smirnoff (fear not, Dear Reader: Your Friend Sigma had a far more respectable rum & diet coke), Meryl Streep in Kramer vs. Kramer, and a brace of giggly freshman oboes (double reeds seem to gravitate toward him and I've no idea why)). Cute Singer is detailing how busy he will be this weekend. They enter the building by the door right next to Cute Singer's room. They pause to bid each other farewell.]

CS: So, ah, I'll see you... well, when I see you.

S: Yeah. [pauses, clearly on the verge of speaking. Cute Singer waits expectantly] Um, do you want to get coffee sometime? [Cute Singer is silent; Sigma continues quickly] I mean, you can say no, it's all right; I just needed to ask -- [she breaks off awkwardly and studies him, hopeful]

CS: [after a pause] You know what -- sure. [pause] Sometime. [They stand awkwardly for a short while]

S: [agreeing] Sometime. [begins to back away. Quietly, to herself] Sometime.

CS: [entering his room] I'll see you.

S: Goodnight, [Cute Singer].

[Your Friend Sigma enters the stairwell and dashes upstairs, clutching her books, jacket, and umbrella. Upon reaching the top landing, she goes around the corner, away from her room, and into the next stairwell, where she telephones Her Co-Conspirator Zachary, who is likely almost back to his apartment by now, to tell him the news.]


So, I got a "you know what, sure." which is not "no." It is, in fact, of a distinctly non-negative persuasion, which is encouraging -- although "no" perhaps would have been easier for me to deal with. I mean, now I have something to obsess and freak out about, and I can obsess and freak out like a pro, as I'm sure you, Dear Reader, know all too well. And it still may well be excruciatingly awkward. But -- he didn't say no. Also, this may be a turning point for me, in terms of relationship initiative. Well, perhaps not, considering how much it took for this to happen, but still.

Oh god, now I actually have to schedule a getting-of-coffee. Oh god.

Oh god. I'm sure you, Dear Reader, know exactly what sorts of things are going through my mind right now, so I shan't bore you with relating them all. But. Oh god.

So today was lovely, until about five o'clock, when I suddenly got really depressed for no reason... but that's beside the point.

What I wanted to say was, today in Wind Ensemble we were reading a couple new pieces, and along the very edge of one of my parts, photocopied onto it for eternity, some bassoonist from the past had written,
you can't even keep your eyes off me, can you?
and I don't know why but it killed me inside to see that. I'm probably just a crazy, but still -- it profoundly disturbed my sensibilities and upset my delicate emotional balance... I don't understand it. Also it is just bizarre, and a very strange chance that it even made it onto the margin of my part, because the other edge of my music was slightly cut off, and if whoever made the copy had framed the page properly, there would be no visible trace of the writing.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

----

In other news, I have resolved that This Week I shall ask Cute Singer if he wants to get coffee or something sometime. Eventually. As soon as I pluck up the courage. Yeah? And as soon as I re-convince myself that it's a good plan of action, since Dena freaked me out today with her talk of drastic awkwardness... I mean, we just started to be pretty good friends this year... just last quarter, even. And I don't want to fuck that up, since he's just an awesome person all around. But as he is indeed an awesome person, I figure that the worst that could feasibly happen is he gently says 'no thanks' and I feel awkward for a few days weeks and then we can be friends again, right?

Gah. Why is this sort of thing so goddamn difficult?

god, i'm so good at procrastination, guys! yay!

seriously. i left the music building after the composer recital, got back here maybe around eleven, or a bit past? I have no idea, really. ten after, i get a phone call and for the next hour i am obsessively worried about one of my friends -- her stuff was found randomly on the street somewhere and i was on her recent calls list, so i got to be the one calling around looking for her and terrified that she was abducted. as it turns out, she was off getting fucked up somewhere; about an hour later as i was loitering outside of her room contemplating knocking again in case a hypothetical occupant decided to answer this time, she returned -- falling down drunk, and being half-led, half-carried by her roommate and the third cousin of her private teacher who is currently crashing on her couch. so i informed fellow concerned friends that she was safe and maybe not fine, but being cared for my her roommate, and went back to my room. i think i got here around 12:30, which means that i have been fucking around on the internet not doing my homework for about an hour. and what did i just do? sign in to Kingdom of Loathing and type an LJ entry.

i so win.

in other news, although Cute Singer is not interested, we have for some reason been hanging out and/or talking a lot more in the past few days (specifically the last two, but also including the past few weeks). go figure.

yeah i need to shut up and do real work now.