Sinister: a weepy introduction

[Griffin, Claire M]

*nervously waves her hand, then, becomes self-conscious, drops her hand back down,immediately thereafter calls herself an idiot, forcing her hand back into the air, well after the point where it is socially acceptable, and coming off as overall a bit daft*
 
Ah, the curses of the socially cumbersome and painfully shy. At least the internet will let me escape my burden! Right? Right??!! ... nope, turns out I'm a dork on the internet too. And not the cool sort of dork, or the kind with the decency to get really into computers or RPGs so they still have something to do on a Saturday night other than make a hideously self-centered introduction to a mailing list that has warned them repeatedly against doing so. 

Hmm.... come to think of it, I'm a bald-faced liar with something to do tonight, namely going to watch Blue Velvet at my friend's house. He's sure that it will open my eyes to new worlds or something, but my brother (who has impeccable taste in everything, unfortunately completely opposite of my own, so he feels the need to raise me right.... at least it means that he gives me new CDs at every possible opportunity, and lets me steal his at will) says that it is awful and self-indulgent. We'll see how it goes, my friend has similarly impeccable taste, mirroring my own impeccability this time. 
 
Honestly, I'd rather spend the night lounging in my bedroom, reading and eating chocolate and listening to Jeff Buckley, feeling romantically sorry for myself and my utter loneliness.
 
I signed up to this list, first and foremost, to whine about what I'm doing this Wednesday, namely, not going to the Belle & Sebastian concert in Munich. I've never seen them live before, as they don't often come to my real home, the windswept, utterly devoid plains of the midwestern United States. So for the last two years (since someone slipped me a burned CD with The State I Am In, If You're Feeling Sinister, and This Is Just A Modern Rock Song on it) I've been listening to their CDs on repeat, obsessively downloading live versions and B-sides, and imagining taking my seat at some rad, unheard of venue, gawking glass eyes at all you cool indie rawk kids, as they take the stage. And I finally get my chance, my heart speeding up already when I see a thread entitled B&S Tour GERMANY!!!  as I am scavenging bowlie for new music and books. I click the link, and they'll be in Munich, a scant 4 and a half hour train ride from this year's home away from home in Austria. And (as so!
on as I've regained some dignity and resumed my seat after dancing bout the room like a fool) I'm about to order the almost affordable tickets in my immediate enthusiasm, when my heart splatters against my smelly silver sneakers, realizing I have this bloody ski trip with my school that week. And I can't get out of it. And the evil teachers won't let me off one night, even though I've pressed upon them how incredibly important this is, and I have to spend the week with the annoying, reeking freshman, learning how to ski. I hate skiing.... I hate most things that involve me getting off my lazy ass, but particularly skiing. How do you even spell skiing? It can't have two i s in a row.... So I am damned once again to my pre-recorded hell, except this time haunted by my fleeting, heartlessly dashed hopes, or something like that. Melodrama never suited me. Apathy's my game.
 
In that spirit, I plan to drown my sorrows in alcohol and music next Wednesday, make a spectacle of myself, and be awoken before I can sleep it off to be put on top of a mountain attached to two waxed shafts which will never be extensions of my feet and fall/crawl my way to the bottom.
 
My oh my, I am sulky and pathetic this week... you lot should probably ignore this email... I'd hate me. 
 
>Claire, who feels more her bit of angsty teenager today than any other time in her life.... except when she's listening to Bright Eyes. 
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