Emotions are strange, and I find myself bluffing my way through class because I come home too tired to do the readings, socializing yet feeling introverted yet feeling alone, it's just that time I guess of full moons and the usual. Last night I drank too much caffeine too late and sat in my living room playing my mom's old classical guitar, scrawling out chord progressions, finding my fingers landing in the same places or that this one or that one was a song somebody else wrote and wrote better. At least that fear of not doing it well has dissolved, and with a sharper focus, it becomes easier to string it all together.
I got a package in the mail that made me miss the days when I was penpalling with way more people, getting envelopes from Portland, Zurich, Grand Rapids, swapping paperbacks, correspondence, mixtapes and random this and thats. Inside this one was some volumes of Dorothy Day's writings (which I don't own so that was welcome), and a letter and some wall art. It's strange how connected souls that have never met can be, when thoughts are exchanged, and I begin formulating responses, because this kind of thing is beautiful and missed.
Mamiffer, Alcest and Anathema are playing tonight and I hate the venue and its location but I know how much I complain that bands like this skip my town so the least I can do is go, especially with being guestlisted already there's no excuse. Everyone who likes that band doesn't live here or is otherwise engaged but at least the music's introverted enough that I can get lost in it, I hope. Having companionship again for things like this is spoiling me, I guess you don't miss what you don't have.