the word 'best friend' becomes redefined

Last night was the Chiodos show at the Roseland Ballroom. The line to get in stretched around a good two blocks; anyone with red and white tickets, however, got to go in first. The beauty of exclusivity. I did not have a red and white ticket--I had a print-out ticket, albeit on high quality paper.

The other bands playing were A Skylit Drive, Ana...something, Escape the Fate, and Silverstein. Have to admit, none of the above are part of my usual repertoire of music, but Chiodos is amazing live. The lead singer got so into it that it was infectious. I've never been so close to so many people in my life, literally, pressed against strangers that I'd never seen before and probably will never see again.

The most memorable moment of the night must have been the drunken fellow who came over and basically gave us a life-coaching speech about having fun and "living like there's no tomorrow". He complimented K, G, and myself, and then proceeded to speak directly to my chest. He was drunk, so it was done with absolutely no subtlety. Hilarious. I love random happy drunks.

I've misplaced my poetic eloquence. I suppose it will recover sometime around 3 in the morning. As of right now, I have nothing to do with my Saturday night save for procrastinate, compulsively check my phone, and hope that a good movie will come on.

My job at the library is mostly satisfying, although alphabetizing for four hours, and then watching people mess up what you've just rearranged can be quite frustrating. It does inspire me to write a novel--an extended story. The only problem is, I've no idea what the conflict would be were I to actually successfully begin writing.


I'm going to be so busy tomorrow, it's not even remotely amusing.
For one thing, I have to rush from one place to another: First, SAT prep--I did not even complete the reading comprehension homework. Ooops. And then work: I'm working with 1 of 2 pages I have yet to meet, and apparently she likes to work alone, so not sure how that will play out.


In other things, I am really upset that I have no idea who I am. Well, I take that back: I have no idea what I am truly passionate about. Even if I do, I'm not quite sure how to voice it because I feel as if I have been working on becoming this ideal college-friendly "package" of a person that I have become a generic, robotic individual with no true distinguishing characteristics. I am a chameleon.