oh no, not the same mistakes again

The song I’m posting for this week is going to require this entire post to explain. But, in short, I blame Maitri, really. If she had not been so kind and generous in sending me a package last week, everything would have been just fine. But no, not only was she a total sweetheart, sending me a CD of great New Orleans Jazz, but no, she also had to pull some complete kung-fu on me. She went all ninja on me, psychically predicting that I was craving a Rodrigo y Gabriela fix. Even then, it seemed innocent enough. When I opened the package, the first CD made me smile, the second made me gasp with a childlike, “Oh. My. God. NO. WAY.”

And all of that is well and good. But were it not for that random showering of kindness from down south, I would not have been playing the CD on a continuous loop in my car. And had the CD not been in my car, it would not have started playing when I picked up SC and others to go hiking. And if SC had taken a seat in my car without the CD playing, then he would never have had the opportunity to identify it within a femto-second, remark on how he had just seen Rodrigo y Gabriela at the Independent, and cause my stomach to churn with discomfort.

It’s all your fault, Maitri. Thanks to you, these poor readers have to listen to me hem and haw about this foolio again. People, I was totally indifferent on Saturday morning. It seemed such a harmless notion to go hiking. It was a stunningly beautiful day, and warmer than my last hike. Other friends were accompanying me; there was no danger of having to spend too much time with SC. But then, there was this Rodrigo y Gabriela thing, and that inexplicably derailed me.

How could something so inconsequential tip me over the edge? I have to tell you that, despite what any male readership on this blog may proclaim, this dude has no cojones whatsoever. None. There are plenty of reasons not to bother with him, not the least of which is my quickly dwindling days in San Francisco. Yet, this simple, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it connection had this snowball-to-avalanche effect. After that, every little thing seemed disgustingly charming.

I didn’t want to process the full extent of it. When I had dinner with maisnon that night, I might have said, “I just hate him so much” about ten times. Yeah. So maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on SC- perhaps we are both stuck at the maturity level of pre-adolescents. Perhaps tomorrow, I’ll kick him in the shins at lunchtime.


too many storms have come and gone

On the up side, at least I did see some nice waterfalls. And, when we reached this particular pass, co-worker GBF turned to me and said, “Don’t go chasing waterfalls.”

To which, I, of course, replied, “Please stick to the rivers and lakes you’re used to.”

Later, he deconstructed Beyonce’s Irreplaceable- because, you know, that song requires so much explanation.

post-script: After a serious consultation with RR, whose station in life is to soundly slap me across the face when I am acting like an idiot, the SC situation has been laid to rest. There will be no further posts on the subject. Let me know if you'd like RR's mailing address to send checks or thank you notes.