Plea.

Dearest Albus,

If you would let me comfort you now and then, instead of completely succumbing to the angst of your theatrical lifestyle...

I think both of our lives would be a whole lot easier.

Dreams.

I dreamed last night that Chunk came to my house, pleading and hurt that he was no longer my Facebook friend. His girlfriend had dumped him, but he couldn't understand what he had done to me to make me so angry.

In the dream, I gave him an earful, then punched him in the face. It was quite therapeutic.

Pilgrimage.

I leave campus today for some kitten therapy and a purple sundae. Dressed in pinstriped pants, a baggy Bowie t-shirt, and a rust-colored soldier cap, I feel too dressed up for where I am going, but the kittens seem to like the cap.

I gather ingredients for cupcake concoction, yogurt, and two packs of gum. I unwrap two sticks, wedge them vertically between my jaws, and pretend I am Nosferatu. This is my ritual.

What?

There is a handicapped man who frequents my place of work who is whispered about. I am told multiple times by my coworker that he is a child molester, although I have no idea how she knows this, and apparently this means he is not allowed to be treated as a human being. She never acknowledges him when he says hello or asks for help, and I get a dirty look every time I respond to a greeting of his, however briefly. But if I don't do it, who will?

My only class today met outside, an irregular ring of theatre students clustered around the professor as if we were all in kindergarten again. It was quite refreshing.

Conundrum.

I love musicals, but I hate the musical theatre students. 95% of them are pretentious assholes and the few that are nice are not noticed because they don't make a spectacle of themselves.

I am not one of them, and I am glad of that. Some might say this is just sour grapes, since I did audition to be a musical theatre student when I came here, but the truth is, I wanted to be one then because I did not know what they really are.

I sing on the sidewalk because I like the song I'm listening to. They spout off random strings of soprano notes in the hallway just to prove how high their ranges are.

I don't tell them that I can probably sing higher than they can.

--

Till-death-do-us-part analysis of an Irish play in a class where none of us are Irish. Incomprehensible test offset by squashy German candy. I picked up a leafhopper and it launched itself off of my finger with a force that felt like a tiny fist had punched me.

I feel strange and girly in double pigtails and a camisole. Heat becomes unbearable. Would it be too much to ask for a little bit of fall for the equinox?

This was the weekend.

Goodwill and the record store. Shopping is a disease. 4 CDs for $20 and 6 items of clothing for $14 is still too much when you are a student. The man at the record store is doing with his life exactly what I want to do, but I am no good with money and frequently feel as though I have no future because of that, or that I will end up drowning in some boring day job and never do anything I love to do again.

I love music and books and writing and art, but combine all that together and you still get STARVING BOHEMIAN. If it weren't for the starving part I would jump on that opportunity.

Being a bibliophile alone will not make you a librarian. Loving to educate people will not make you a good teacher. Writing fanfiction does not make you an author.

I write all of these songs in my head and I am so proud of the lyrics, but I can't think of any music to go with them and so I feel like a failure.

I drown in music. 8,220 songs and I doubt I've heard even 2/3 of them.

Cast of characters, thus far...

Albus - First and only love. Bona fide dork. Has the facial hair style of a 40-year-old professor. Plays stalkers in underground plays. Gives the best hugs. Calls me beautiful even when I know he's lying sometimes. Frequently thinks he is a squirrel. I am waiting for the day when he will put a ring on my finger.

Scarypretty - Best friend, or one of them. Nineteen. Getting married someday. Lives far away. Has frequent bouts of paranoia that are not entirely irrational. Expresses affection with sarcasm and acts of grievous bodily harm. Enjoys grabbing her friends in inappropriate places.

Glitter - Another best friend. Nineteen. Strange imagination. Enjoys doodling masterpieces and posing for odd pictures. Frequently spouts inside jokes in front of outsiders. Does not know many of my deepest secrets. Tells true ghost stories.

Duck - Sister. Seventeen. Socialite. Very into pink. Watches home movies with unheard-of enthusiasm. Cuts out words from magazines. Enjoys the Disney channel entirely too much. Wants a kitten.

Regina - Oldest friend. Seventeen. Often mean to boys. Sticks black-and-white photos onto her desk. Obsessed with Tim Burton films. Home being constantly remodeled. Has many long-distance friends. Prone to kicking round things around fields.

Chunk - Ex-friend. Twenty. Started ignoring the world when he discovered online dating. Passive-aggressive. Used to be in love with me, then proceeded to hurt me with his silence. I hate him, but can't get him out of my head.

Pigeon - Friend of eternal optimism. Nineteen. Spreads smiles and music to those she meets. Sometimes slow on the uptake. Frequently late. Will listen as long as you need her to. Frequents cafes and coffee houses.