Eh...Roachboy apologized for being a jerk. I just don't care anymore. He's pestering me to "unburden myself" again. Why do I talk to him? I don't know...I'm considering telling him everything, though. He is brilliant, just fucked-up. Smugly superior. A megalomaniac, if you will. Besides, the truth might kill him.
Please, god, just let me die.
I'm actually in a pretty good mood today. When we got to the Pentagon, it was raining sideways. Everything from the waist down got soaked, and that was with an extra-large umbrella. As if that weren't enough, the canvas top of the Sports Utility Vehicle we rode home in was leaking. In face, it was spattering water directly onto my face, and there was no way to avoid it. I spent the entire ride squishing my toes around in my completely soaked tennis-shoes.
When we got home, I had to take a cat to the veterinarian's office. This was Pturd--the one who scratches herself up if she doesn't get a steriod shot. As soon as she saw me pick up my car keys, she scampered away to hide. She's good at hiding. We searched for that cat for half an hour before finding her, hidden behind the books on a bookshelf. Pturd had positioned herself so that you couldn't see her if you looked behind the bookshelf for her. She put up a huge fight when I pulled her out of there, so she got put in the kitty-carrier. Stupid cat.
Honestly, she's absolutely spoiled.
The only reason I offered to take the cat was because I could pick Dirk up at his parent's house (he was visiting them). I didn't want him biking in that horrible thunderstorm. I also somehow managed to convince my mother to let me give him a ride home in the evening.
I had a lot of revelations today. Dirk and I went online while he was over, and I had a conversation with C-- with Dirk watching. I was honestly surprised when Dirk told me that I'm really mean to C--. Since when does Dirk stick up for my online guy-friends? That's not the point, though. The point is, he was right. After I got dropped Dirk off at his parents', got home and signed back on, I asked C-- point blank if he thought I was less kind these days.
C-- said that I am. According to him, I make a lot of hurtful offhand comments while I'm talking to him. I never realised how much of my anger and bitterness was showing through. I attacked him in small ways every time we talked without even being aware I was doing so.
I've been out of control for the past few weeks. That's going to stop. Right fucking now. I don't have a choice. I don't want to lose everything.
C-- and I had the first worthwhile conversation we've had in months. It wasn't funny, but it was real. We talked about waiting, and whether one had to wait for something definite or if it was possible to wait for everything, every experience at once. All this time, I thought the distance was him, when at least part of it was my doing.
I am planning to send him Lawrence Ferlinghetti's "I Am Waiting" tomorrow from work. I can't find it anywhere on the ‘Net, so I'm just going to have to type it up from the book I have.
Odd. I think Katie's pissed at me. Why would she be angry?
And then, of course, I nearly forget the most important par t of the evening: re-learning an old song, and learning a new one. First, there was the lesson in keeping four-four rhythm. This may sound a bit odd to you, but I've been playing bass for almost 2 years and I don't know much about rhythm. At least, not formally. I know how fast I'm supposed to play a song, how long I'm supposed to hold out a note, but if you asked me to to count off exactly how long I'm holding out a note, I'd look at you blankly. It's a knack, like being able to raise one eyebrow (although I'm practicing so I'll be able to do that one day with ease) or wiggling your ears. Or being able to write poetry with little or no instruction in the English Language.
After that, Dirk re-taught me the old song. He then taught me one of the new songs, "DCMF". It's really complicated, and hard to finger. I'm actually going to have to practice this song more than just at rehearsal space. Prima-donna lead guitarists.
I'm proud of myself. I only had one crying fit while he was showing me this stuff. You see, when I originally joined the band, it was made clear to me by both Roachboy and Jason that I was there on a trial basis. If I didn't learn fast enough (I'd never picked up the bass before joining the band) and didn't manage to impress Jason and Roachboy, I was out. This has given me a serious anxiety problem, because I'm a slow learner. I pushed myself well beyond my capabilities in the beginning, trying to prove I deserved to be in the band. Meanwhile, Paul, Roachboy's friend, was given full band membership status by virtue of the fact that he'd purchased a drum kit. Apparently, stupidity is a perfectly valid reason to make someone a permanent member.
So, when I feel as though I'm not grasping a concept quickly enough, or I think whoever's teaching me is getting frustrated with me, I start crying.