On Chance Encounters.

Have you ever been blessed with an encounter that leaves you feeling as if all the stars in the universe aligned in such a way to bring you two together? The type that leaves you with an unwavering feeling of euphoria and a tangible "Heck yes, anything is possible today!" attitude? I had one of these encounters the other day and it began when he looked down at my iPod and practically shouted when he noticed I was listening to Circa Survive's "Blue Sky Noise" album. Kindred spirits, if only for a moment. Or, more accurately, a normally tiresome hour-long bus ride that flew by because of his company.

Though, I must be frank and mention that out of all the available seats to situate myself on the bus, I chose to sit next to him; I reverted to old habits as an attraction to his piercings drew me in. And I'll be the first to admit my surprise as my surreptitious use of Circa's soon-to-be-released album as bait actually worked. I've no shame, really. He apologized for snooping at my music choice, which was a sweet gesture, and an easy conversation encircling shared interests followed.

I realize it's nearly impossible to accurately gauge someone's personality from a conversation as short as ours. And my ignorance of the banal (yet very smart!) saying that one should never talk to strangers was evident. But phone numbers and social networking sites were exchanged. He's studious, with degrees in English and accounting under his belt, musically-talented as the lead vocalist in an up-and-coming local band and extremely polite; all green lights. He gave me his post-hardcore band's URL and I giggled upon hearing a cover of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" thirty minutes before starting this post. My close friends can attest to my penchant for hardcover covers of terribly catchy pop songs. It's a guilty pleasure that, well, I don't feel guilty for having.

As his stop was before mine, he stood up and explained that he was visiting his sick mom as he held up the single red rose I had first noticed upon taking the seat next to him. When I first saw the rose, I had thought that whomever he intended to give it to, was a lucky, lucky girl. And I still stand by that. A very lucky girl, indeed. So yes, a little crush has somehow made its way into my life.

Truth be told, that day was one of the more perfect days I've had in a while. A few hours after the chance encounter, I went to a restaurant to get some take-out and the girl behind the counter said she loved my hair and if she could please cut it off and put it on her head. It wasn't as creepy as I make it seem; it was very cute. 

A concise summary of the previous paragraphs: I love lovely days.

P.S. Desperately wishing I were in Indio this weekend for Coachella.
P.P.S. Blogger has it out for me, seeing as this is the millionth time I've tried to update this; the page keeps timing out, even though every other page works fine. Odd?

On Let-Downs, Adventures and LA Weekly.

You know what really grinds my gears? When something that's been in the planning stages for a while falls through at the very last second. (Reminiscent of one too many times when I've sat at home, all dressed up with no where to go.) Having no intention of going to a show when the artist rolls through town, talking to someone who states how amazing of an idea it would be if we were to go, getting extremely excited for the night in question, only to be let down. Again and again. Keep in mind that the concert scenario occurred twice in a span of six months.

I've mentioned time and again how I've yearned for a DSLR camera to practice, and hopefully further, my photography skills. He mentioned a grand opportunity to provide me with a camera and a chance to photograph one of the artists he's been working with - an opportunity I was extremely grateful for and literally over the moon about, only to receive one of the most disappointing phone calls I've had in a while on Tuesday afternoon. It's possible I went through a slew of a hundred emotions in one second. Extreme giddiness upon hearing my phone ring, disappointment upon realizing the opportunity wasn't going to come into fruition, and anger for trusting someone that was bound to let me down once more. It's become a set pattern, and I can't believe I allowed it to happen again.

I think I may need better friends.

Retail therapy: I believe in it. That afternoon called for a new pair of sunglasses.

Wednesday proved to be a much better day as I spent the day out and about with my sister. First stop was Hollywood and Highland to do a bunch of ridiculously touristy things: walking up and down the street pointing out names we recognized on the stars, taking photos of the handprints in front of the Chinese Theater and taking a much needed trip to Amoeba.

I thrifted this 1960's toy camera for $2 the other day. I've yet to develop my first roll of film, but it winds well and the shutter works, so I'm hoping that the photos come out alright.

Because of the 80+ degree weather, we felt that a visit to Millions of Milkshakes in WeHo was necessary. We ended the day on the Santa Monica Pier. I was only slightly disappointed that they raised the prices for the rides. Yes, the rides are akin to kitchy carnival rides, but they're fun nonetheless.

What else have I been up to, you ask? You didn't, but just go with it. In an uncharacteristically bold move, I decided to apply to write for LA Weekly's West Coast Sound blog. I sent my application a couple of weeks ago, but as of this moment, I have yet to receive a word back. I'm quite impatient when it comes to matters such as these, haven't you noticed? As of right now, however, I wouldn't mind if I weren't to get a spot. I acted on an impulse and took a risk, things I rarely do, and that's all that matters. Besides, I doubt my knowledge of mainstream music is up to par with the other applicants and well-read bloggers who have successfully placed a foot in the door of the music journalism world. Surely my meager article failed to reach the minimum word count that I didn't even know existed. Oh, and I failed geographically as I chose to compose an article surrounding an event occurring in the O.C. Fail, fail, fail. Fingers are still crossed, though.