The Best Laid Plans
I have this Oasis song, Whatever, which is a great song, except at the end of the live version that I have, they have the audience cheering. Only it's in like Britain or somewhere really uncivilized and they're all whooping like total freaks. It sounds awful. I cringe every time I get to the end of the song.
I promised Merry I'd mention that I saw Sarah McLachlan in concert last Saturday night. I used to like Sarah. Now I think she is like the most amazing female performer ever. Maybe that's because we were sitting in the second row, I don't know. But I just was really blown away by how good she was. Except one thing. She wasn't wearing good jeans. They were straight leg, and I really thought she should have gone with bootcut. I am very particular about the cut of my jeans. If you ever need help, let me know.
A few months back, I was on Newbury Street and I heard this street performer guy. Connor McLaughlin. Or Colin McLaughlin. I don't know. I bet you haven't heard of him, because contrary to what I originally believed, this guy isn't going anywhere anytime soon. I heard him play in about March, I would say. I made my friend turn around and walk back to hear the guy finish playing, and it was about ten degrees out. And then I even gave him a dollar and put my name on a mailing list. I never put my name on a mailing list, because my dad always told me horror stories about how people found names on mailing lists and came to the person's house and chopped them up and became them and ran up their bills and buried them. Or something close to that. The point is, I get nervous about putting names on lists. But I really was convinced I NEEDED to know if this guy was ever going to play anywhere or put out a CD. Yeah. When I tell people about how much I loved this guy at that moment, people ask me if I was drunk. The answer is no. But I went home and went to the guy's website immediately. I downloaded his entire CD and then I ran downstairs and HAD to share the music with my friends Liz and Amanda. I remember getting them all revved up for this great, amazing new musician.
And then I played the song.
They looked at me like I was nuts. I kept playing it though, still convinced that THEY were missing something. Then I must have regained my hearing, because two days later, I deleted the entire album from my computer.
You might wonder what made me think of this. Well, a week ago, I got an email from Conor or Colin McLaughlin saying something about how he's finally putting out a CD. I deleted it. Then I got another one. And another one. And now, every stupid day, I get another email from him saying that I need to go to his website and order his CD.
I'm never putting my name on another list ever again.
Do you ever do something and immediately wonder, why did I just do that? A few weeks ago, I went into work at Fenway. When you go in, this nice old guy checks your bag and ID to make sure you're not trying to blow up the place. So I kind of bumped into him, and I think his hat kinda moved a little bit, and then I don't even know what I was thinking - I like tapped his hat back on or something, on the front of it. I really can't describe this moronic movement, but all I remember is me on the inside SCREAMING at myself. Like, what was I THINKING? Is this guy like two years old? And he kinda chuckled or giggled or made some sort of sound, probably to make me feel less embarrassed, or maybe because he was thinking, "What the fuck?" and you know what, I wouldn't have blamed him one stupid bit. God, that has to be the most embarrassing moment of the summer. Really. I think it was because I was embarrassed not only by myself, but FOR myself. Like, I felt bad for myself that I had to feel that way about myself. Good lord.
I can't even write any more. I just think that was too embarrassing. At a certain point, I think you cross a line. And that hat incident crossed it. I wasn't even going to write about it, because I felt like if I didn't acknowledge it, I could pretend it didn't happen. But every time I go into Fenway, I have to go past him. The poor guy doesn't even act like he knows who I am, so it might be okay, but I just think, if I were him, every time I walked by, I'd be like, "What the fuck?" Just every time. This total bewildered look. Just total bewilderment.
As an end note, today marked the last day for my summer in Boston. When I get back from this Cape Cod excursion, I'll move to Warren and begin RA training. And the thing is, back in May, I had all these grand plans for myself. Really. I was like Columbus. I really thought I was going to freaking change my life or something this summer. I was going to be fluent in Spanish from just reading a book and talking with my co-workers. The closest I've come to learning another language this summer is developing a good Boston accent. I also thought I was going to manage my finances. Instead, I opened a Gap card and depleted my savings. And I really was set on making these paper collages for my friends, with pictures and cool paper scraps. Well, today I pasted together some garbage bags to line a blue cart, and I guess you could technically call that a collage.
OH MY GOD. I JUST HEARD THAT STUPID END OF THE OASIS SONG. Really. The whooping. And then all these people screaming for an encore. It is so bad. God. Right in the middle of my explanation of my summer, I get interrupted. I can't even finish out my intention to explain my summer plans. Classic.
I promised Merry I'd mention that I saw Sarah McLachlan in concert last Saturday night. I used to like Sarah. Now I think she is like the most amazing female performer ever. Maybe that's because we were sitting in the second row, I don't know. But I just was really blown away by how good she was. Except one thing. She wasn't wearing good jeans. They were straight leg, and I really thought she should have gone with bootcut. I am very particular about the cut of my jeans. If you ever need help, let me know.
A few months back, I was on Newbury Street and I heard this street performer guy. Connor McLaughlin. Or Colin McLaughlin. I don't know. I bet you haven't heard of him, because contrary to what I originally believed, this guy isn't going anywhere anytime soon. I heard him play in about March, I would say. I made my friend turn around and walk back to hear the guy finish playing, and it was about ten degrees out. And then I even gave him a dollar and put my name on a mailing list. I never put my name on a mailing list, because my dad always told me horror stories about how people found names on mailing lists and came to the person's house and chopped them up and became them and ran up their bills and buried them. Or something close to that. The point is, I get nervous about putting names on lists. But I really was convinced I NEEDED to know if this guy was ever going to play anywhere or put out a CD. Yeah. When I tell people about how much I loved this guy at that moment, people ask me if I was drunk. The answer is no. But I went home and went to the guy's website immediately. I downloaded his entire CD and then I ran downstairs and HAD to share the music with my friends Liz and Amanda. I remember getting them all revved up for this great, amazing new musician.
And then I played the song.
They looked at me like I was nuts. I kept playing it though, still convinced that THEY were missing something. Then I must have regained my hearing, because two days later, I deleted the entire album from my computer.
You might wonder what made me think of this. Well, a week ago, I got an email from Conor or Colin McLaughlin saying something about how he's finally putting out a CD. I deleted it. Then I got another one. And another one. And now, every stupid day, I get another email from him saying that I need to go to his website and order his CD.
I'm never putting my name on another list ever again.
Do you ever do something and immediately wonder, why did I just do that? A few weeks ago, I went into work at Fenway. When you go in, this nice old guy checks your bag and ID to make sure you're not trying to blow up the place. So I kind of bumped into him, and I think his hat kinda moved a little bit, and then I don't even know what I was thinking - I like tapped his hat back on or something, on the front of it. I really can't describe this moronic movement, but all I remember is me on the inside SCREAMING at myself. Like, what was I THINKING? Is this guy like two years old? And he kinda chuckled or giggled or made some sort of sound, probably to make me feel less embarrassed, or maybe because he was thinking, "What the fuck?" and you know what, I wouldn't have blamed him one stupid bit. God, that has to be the most embarrassing moment of the summer. Really. I think it was because I was embarrassed not only by myself, but FOR myself. Like, I felt bad for myself that I had to feel that way about myself. Good lord.
I can't even write any more. I just think that was too embarrassing. At a certain point, I think you cross a line. And that hat incident crossed it. I wasn't even going to write about it, because I felt like if I didn't acknowledge it, I could pretend it didn't happen. But every time I go into Fenway, I have to go past him. The poor guy doesn't even act like he knows who I am, so it might be okay, but I just think, if I were him, every time I walked by, I'd be like, "What the fuck?" Just every time. This total bewildered look. Just total bewilderment.
As an end note, today marked the last day for my summer in Boston. When I get back from this Cape Cod excursion, I'll move to Warren and begin RA training. And the thing is, back in May, I had all these grand plans for myself. Really. I was like Columbus. I really thought I was going to freaking change my life or something this summer. I was going to be fluent in Spanish from just reading a book and talking with my co-workers. The closest I've come to learning another language this summer is developing a good Boston accent. I also thought I was going to manage my finances. Instead, I opened a Gap card and depleted my savings. And I really was set on making these paper collages for my friends, with pictures and cool paper scraps. Well, today I pasted together some garbage bags to line a blue cart, and I guess you could technically call that a collage.
OH MY GOD. I JUST HEARD THAT STUPID END OF THE OASIS SONG. Really. The whooping. And then all these people screaming for an encore. It is so bad. God. Right in the middle of my explanation of my summer, I get interrupted. I can't even finish out my intention to explain my summer plans. Classic.
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