You know, sometimes you've known someone for so long, and you know/knew them so well, that you can spot their writing in a heartbeat. No matter how much that person changed. They still look the same on paper and on your computer screen. It's something that even the drugs couldn't take away.
Last week-end, we recorded our new album (due out in late spring). Recording it wasn't nearly the nightmare I was expecting. All told, we recorded 17 songs (this was after seriously cutting back on the number of songs) in two nights. We laid down the basic tracks on the first night, and added the overdubbing and background vocals the next night.
You know what? I don't feel like writing right now. Let me tell you what I'm obsessing about: we (Dirk, Aaron, and I) got an apartment. We sign the lease papers tomorrow. I am pleased while being apprehensive.
My parents don't know I'm moving out.
I don't know how to tell them.
My friend Cathy came up with this humorous letter to leave my mother:
Dearest Mommy,
Have I ever told you that you are the best mother in the world? I love very much especially your warm, caring, and understanding nature. Without out you I probably be having my third child by now. Without you I probably would be by the Seven Eleven being a puta. Without you who knows what kind of mess I'd be in? You see, mom, with you I am not any of these things. I am a better person because of you. Mom, I'm moving out.
Lots of Love and Thank you Mom
Skatter, Dirk, Aaron
P.S. They are not sharing me! No matter what you heard it's not true!Seriously, I go catatonic whenever I even think of telling my mother. She scares me that much. She has no faith in my ability to make decisions for myself, thinks that I'm a slut, and needs to die.
See, I find the idea of killing her much less terrifying than the idea of simply telling her, "Hey, I'm moving in with Dirk. Thanks for everything. Ta!" That says something.
Moving on....I need pots and pans desperately.
The move-in date is the 10th. Hold your breath and spin around about twenty times for me, okay? Because that's how I feel right now and I'm supposed to be the strong one. It also wouldn't look good to be freaking out because then my folks would ask me what my problem is and then I might tell them.
As a side note, this wasn't a plea for advice, esp. advice along the lines of, "Well, why don't you just marry him?" The answer to that is: because I'm twenty-one and I just don't feel like signing a piece of paper so that I can conform to the idiotic standards of some backwards-raised folks. So, if you feel like giving advice, try this: write the advice down on a piece of paper, crumple up the paper, and slowly but firmly shove it up your ass. Thanks.
In other news, my computer made it through Y2K okay. I was amazed – it's this little CTX that I filled to the gills with RAM (back when it was cheap) and kept the 3.11 (NT) version of Windows on. It was a sort of rebellion against all the upgrades that they had, and everyone else's computer. I have a scanner on it that works now that I've stripped everything frivolous from the hard drive, and WordPerfect Old (I just don't know what version it is!). That's it. That's all I need. My Wordperfect and my scanner so I can scan all the crap I'm trying to auction off.
Anyway, since the computer's old (I think we got it the first year I was in High School), and the version of everything except the scanner stuff is ancient, I assumed it would crap out, and didn't touch it after the New Years. However, when I turned it on last night, everything worked fine. Granted, the printer still isn't working, but that's the result of years of abuse – printing up several dozen copies of my old ‘zine, etc.
Okay, that's it. Bye.
