Pull Me Like a Magnet Into You
You’re my daydream in the afternoon
It’s my great depression
I love knowing that I can’t have you
lucky little lady (cityofnight) wrote,
2007-08-06 11:44:56
Subject: Vacation time!
In some ways, living in California has felt like a vacation from reality. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. I think I’ve gone through so many different phases in my life, but I have yet to feel like I’m really living. Each new thing that starts is just temporary, you know? It all ends. Elementary school, middle school, high school, college, grad school, relationships… I wake up some mornings, not wanting to go in to work, and for a moment I forget that this is my schedule now. I could talk myself into morning classes because I knew my schedule would change again at the end of the semester. But work is forever. It’s kind of scary and suffocating to think about. This is really all there is to life?
I think I got away from my point a bit…
I mean, is California even real? It feels like a dream at times, and the transitions from grad school to one job to another job haven’t helped. This new house doesn’t feel like home yet, and it’s been months. I still wake up wondering when this will be over and I’ll be back in West Virginia. Not that I want to be back there. Not at all.
Again, I got away from my point. I don’t think I got enough sleep last night. Spent too long watching the same youtube videos again, contemplating existence and parallel life experiences with people I’ve never even met. I’m not sure I’m actually awake yet. I may still be dreaming.
Anyway, the real reason I started writing all of this was because I wanted to gush about the trip I’m taking in a couple of months. As if moving cross country wasn’t crazy enough, now I’m going to drive to San Francisco to meet up with someone from the internet. If my parents hadn’t all but disowned me after I moved, they would be scandalized, I’m sure. Well, Mom would be. Dad would just make some stupid joke about it and act like he didn’t care. He’s so good at acting that way that I’m pretty sure it really isn’t even an act all.
Boy, I’m rambling today, huh? I guess I’ve rediscovered a love of blogging. So that’s cool. Maybe. Anyway, I really can’t wait to meet up with Laura for the first time! I haven’t seen Rooney since I first moved here, and that was a bit of a clusterfuck. I definitely want a do-over. And of course, getting to see a certain somebody open for them… I can’t put it all into words, and you know that’s a bad sign, coming from a writer.
Oops, lunch break is almost over and I haven’t eaten anything yet!
Carolina closed her LiveJournal tab and wandered back to the staff break room. Live Oak was one of the larger and newer branches, and well-staffed enough that several staff members could take breaks at the same time. She noticed that since the last time she’d been to that particular library, someone had brought a small television into the break room and turned on MSNBC. That wasn’t too surprising; with the presidential primaries underway, they were a constant subject of discussion at every library branch.
Doing her best to tune out the other librarians’ conversation, Carolina fished her leftover pizza from the refrigerator and put it in the microwave. She turned her attention to the television, where the discussion was focused on a debate that was apparently being held in Los Angeles in just a few days. Carolina hadn’t heard anything about it, but she found that she was already burnt out on this election that was still over a year away. It didn’t seem to matter who won the nomination, and with a few notable exceptions, all the candidates seemed indistinguishable to her.
“I just think too many people aren’t ready for anyone but an old white man in office,” a librarian named Sharon remarked, and Carolina had to admit, at least to herself, that she agreed with her.
“Obama really seems to be picking up momentum, though,” another librarian remarked. She was around Carolina’s age, with a few piercings and her hair shaved on one side. Carolina couldn’t remember her name. “I mean, he’s getting lots of attention with younger and first-time voters. If everybody my age and under turns out, he’ll win.”
“What are the chances of that?” Sharon remarked.
The microwave beeped and Carolina retrieved her pizza quickly. She felt both sets of eyes on her as she spun around to leave the room, and she knew she wasn’t going to get away easily.
“What do you think?” Sharon asked. The other librarian’s expression said that she didn’t expect much from the girl who still hadn’t shed her country accent after a few years on the west coast.
“Obama’s alright,” Carolina replied with a dismissive shrug.
“Just alright?” Librarian Number Two asked, her eyes narrowing further.
“Well, he isn’t really all that liberal, is he? Dennis Kucinich is more my speed, but there’s no way he’ll win, so I don’t see the point in voting for him. I like having some actual liberal choices on the local level here, but with this presidential election—might as well just wait and vote for whoever gets the nomination, because they’ll still be better than the other option, whether they’re really liberal or just another moderate Democrat.”
Carolina left the room before the other women could reply. She swore she could actually hear the gears in the brains turning as they attempted to process that a girl from West Virginia had just criticized their candidate of choice for not being liberal enough.
She sat back down at the cataloging desk with her pizza, not really caring if she got the keyboard greasy or if anyone noticed that she was surfing the internet on her break. At least she wasn’t on duty, she reasoned, as she maximized her browser window and refreshed her friends page again.
Jordan Taylor (sacredfool83) wrote,
2007-08-06 12:02:17
Subject: on the road again
Alright, guys. Here we go.
I’m going on tour with my good friends Rooney, which I think most of you are already aware of. You can visit their website for a list of tour dates and to buy your tickets. Once you’ve done that, I need you all to come back here and let me know who is going, where I’ll be seeing you and if you’re interested in hosting a house/hotel show along the way. I won’t be able to do one in every single city, but I want to hit as many of them as possible. Any dates with a travel day or two in between it and the next show are going to be our best bets. So lemme know and we’ll see what we can plan! Maybe I can even get Robert to join me for a few shows.
Before she could stop herself, Carolina began to type a comment, letting him know that she and a friend would be staying at a hotel just a few blocks from the Fillmore. She did know a few other girls who liked Rooney, girls she had gone to see them with years before. She was still on speaking terms with some of them. If Taylor accepted her offer, he might end up playing to just her and Laura, and that would be awkward as hell. But her fingers wouldn’t quit typing. This was her chance to actually be alone, or semi-alone, with him. She had to seize the opportunity, for fear another wouldn’t come.
Once the comment was posted, she closed her browser and plugged her headphones in. Listening to a little music while she worked would make the day go by faster, and she wouldn’t have to think about whether or not Taylor might have replied to her.
Luckily, the afternoon did go by quickly, and by the time Carolina made it home, she had nearly forgotten about all of the events of the day. She fell easily into her usual routine—stick a frozen burrito in the microwave, give the cats their one daily allowance of canned food, then take her burrito into her office and check her laptop.
Technically, she was supposed to be writing, but before she could start, she made her way through a routine list of websites she hadn’t checked since the day before. She tried not to check her author blog at work for fear of outing herself to her coworkers. After seeing no new comments or emails for her alter-ego, Carolina stopped delaying the inevitable. She typed in livejournal.com and looked at the number of new alerts.
One new comment. It could have been from anyone, but Carolina knew as soon as she saw the alert that it wasn’t.
Re: San Francisco
sacredfool83
August 06, 2007, 6:12:01
Hey! That sounds awesome. Lemme send you a PM and we’ll figure out the details.
The comment had only been posted minutes before. Instinctively, Carolina hit refresh. The comment notification was still the newest message. Dejected, she stuffed an overly large bite of burrito into her mouth. She hit refresh. Still nothing new.
She quickly polished off the rest of her burrito, hating herself both for getting so excited about a stupid inbox message and for letting herself overeat because of it. It was so fucking silly. She was twenty four years old and acting like a lovestruck teenager over someone who was little more than words on a screen. Someone who didn’t know the first thing about her as a person and probably didn’t care.
She refreshed her inbox again.
One new message.
hotel show
from: sacredfool83
Hey! So glad you’re down for a hotel show. I don’t really know that area of San Francisco, but it sounds like a perfect location. We’ll be in town for an extra couple days after the show, so maybe we can do the hotel show thing the day after? Lemme know what you think, and be sure to invite all your friends and basically any music lovers you know once we nail down the details.
Carolina read the words a dozen times, as though there might be something else lurking beneath the surface. It was all so… not formal, but not personal either. It was exactly what she expected from him, yet somehow she was still slightly disappointed. She began typing and hit backspace a few times before settling on a wording that she hoped seemed casual enough and didn’t scream desperate fangirl.
Re: hotel show
from: cityofnight
I’ll have to check with my job and see if I can get an extra day off. Living in the real world sucks when you just wanna go to concerts all the time. So maybe we can try for the first night instead? I’ll let you know. Whatever happens, I’m looking forward to it!
When she hit send, a strange, small squeak escaped her mouth. She tried again before managing to form the words, “Holy fuck.”
Once assured she could, indeed, speak, Carolina picked up her phone and selected Laura’s name from the recent calls.
“Sup?” Laura said after just a few rings.
“Umm, did you see Taylor’s post about hotel shows on tour?”
“I did,” Laura replied slowly.
“Did you see that I volunteered our room? I, umm, probably should have okayed that with you first.”
“Did you really think I would have a problem with it?”
“Well, I mean, it’s your room too. I don’t know. I couldn’t resist. And he messaged me back. He wants to do it Tuesday night, but I don’t know if I can add an extra day onto my vacation. So I don’t really know what’s happening.”
“What’s happening is that our favorite musician is coming to our hotel room,” Laura replied, her voice full of the same awe and confusion that Carolina felt. “Do you think I should bring weed? Just, you know, as some extra enticement.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Carolina remarked. “And I know this is going to sound horrible, but I don’t think I can be held responsible for what I might do with Taylor Hanson in my hotel room.”
Laura chuckled. “Hey, as long as you and I don’t have to share a bed, I don’t care what you do.”
“Duly noted.” Carolina heaved a sigh. “I’m going to go in my backyard and scream now. Is this real life? Are we sure? Taylor Fucking Hanson. In our hotel room.”
“It is. It’s really, really real. And he’s going to smoke my weed. It may not be as awesome as what you want to do, but I kind of like my husband, so I’ll settle for sharing my drugs.”
“I’ll call you as soon as we make some definite plans,” Carolina replied. “Talk to ya later.”
“Later, chica,” Laura said.
Carolina ended the call and stood up. She didn’t really want to go outside; her neighbors were just a little too close for her to scream without having to answer to the police. But sitting still at her desk wasn’t an option either. She had too much nervous energy and nowhere to channel it. This was all happening too fast and too real and she couldn’t process any of it.
What she had said to Laura was both a joke and not a joke. She hadn’t been with anyone since leaving West Virginia, and hadn’t really even thought about how pathetic her dry spell was. Breaking that dry spell with her teenage dream had a certain poetic flare to it that would have been exactly Carolina’s style during her wilder college days. She was older now, though, if not wiser. She wouldn’t really do anything like that.
Probably… maybe.