Frosted Flakes.

Rap of the day:

I know you wanna touch it, baby can you taste it? - If you ain't gonnna love it, I'm not about to waste it.

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If I am a flake, I would like to be a frosted flake - or a baked flake?.....

I had Frosted Flakes for dinner.... hey, it's 420, I do what I want - though I didn't smoke out today - I say that like it's something that I do normally.... anyway, suffice it to say that my brain is not functioning at its full capacity today. I have had a decent day though, despite the rain, oversleeping for work, and being thrown right up under the proverbial bus by my scene director. You know, small potatoes.

Opera scenes are this Sunday, they should be interesting. I've never had an experience like this one, where my scene director seemed competent and just has trouble expressing ideas - and - when the ideas she has specifically outlined end up coming together our program director doesn't like them and the performers get the old heave-ho under the bus, because obviously we misunderstood what she said..... annoyed, but hey, the frosted flakes were tasty.

Spring is still in full bloom where the booty is concerned... I made out with a boy last night, and keep getting hit on. More than a few men and women have made eyes at me, which makes me feel nice inside. I think it will fade when the pollen haze is replaced by the humid heft of summer.
I keep getting booty calls at weird hours of the night from vomit dude.... you'd think I had done my part when we first met to get rid of this guy, but I guess my disgusting impression of Linda Blair only impressed him? No idea about that one - but he called last night, and I legitimately was not near my phone - kissing, you know - but if I had been... I probably wouldn't have answered. Whoops, I'm a bad person, Karma will thump me soon enough.

I am supposed to go to an underwear party on Friday... I am not entirely sure if this is a great plan, as I currently feel a little fluffy, though I have lost weight, and am not sooo sure I want to go. F.Y.I. it's a theatre party that is held annually where all guests wear only underwear... there are all these skinny, pretty, loud people there that have nothing better to do than compete for the spotlight - can I say, most emphatically, that I daily celebrate the fact that I am a musician and not an actor? because, darlin, I DO! - So, pretty people, blah blah blah, and underwear = possible pointing with the pen15 and I was invited by this cute, slightly odd, 12 year old (i.e. freshman). I do love underwear though and have plenty of cute options, so it remains on the table as possible weekend fun.

Back to the thoughts of beauty from L'Bergique - so, he's not pretty outside, and though he is very intelligent and talented, I do not always love his insides either. We argue a lot, mostly because of unrequited love, I gather. Tonight he texted, and as often happens, said something to stir me up which made me think... why do i even care about this right now? why am I trying to please him and make him feel comfortable when he is always digging his claws into me to make me feel something. Babe, I like you but I do not love you and you being shitty to me does not make me feel any closer or have the desire to get closer to you. But anyway, this thought of miscalculated beauty has been in my head for quite some time. I find that many people believe themselves to be martyrs of love and life and cursed with exteriors that aren't reflective of their interior - I say, bullshit. We all struggle, the spectrum of internal and external beauty, to find someone with which we connect in a meaningful and worthwhile way. My friend Mouse lives with Eesh, he's African-American and does not lack anything externally, he's an okay looking guy, but he is truly pushy, aggressive, selfish and to add a cherry to the cow pie, a bad kisser... he laments his lot in life and blames the general lack of men willing/excited to a) date a black man b)who find his interior superior to others and c)who are up to his standards. - Standards, may I add, that he does not himself meet. Mouse is a prime example of someone who thinks their shit doesn't stink, but in fact, all the emotional broccoli they have been eating is stinkin up the whole house. I find that it is a fault of humans today; either they are unable to attach blame to themselves and all of the fault lies outside of their perfect, pristine internal selves, or the rest of us who, like ostriches, hid our heads in the sand of ourselves thinking of how awful we are and what we can do to be better. Beauty is a tough subject to broach, it brings into question all sorts of conditioned social norms that have been hardwired into our little baby brains that then guide us through our lives as adults. It's hard to hack the hardwiring... but I think that I find people beautiful that others wouldn't necessarily find lovely. Suffice it to say, this conversation isn't over in my head, stay tuned for more self-loathing? ya? (kidding.... mostly)

I spent yesterday with Twin and her bwa, he's a really good guy and I like that. Few straight men make me feel at ease, and I never felt like I was being judged or as if I were an imposition. Thumbs up, Twin, pick of the litter! It felt like Friday with all the empty space in the day and having drinks, dinner and conversation with great people, but alas, in fact it was only Monday. Now Tuesday has ended and it's time for Wednesday to start. Hopefully I can keep up with posting now that free time isn't at such a premium.

Love to you all,
AA