I'm Only Happy When It Rains

Good morning. Another rainy day in paradise. People are starting to refer to this month as "Juneuary." I'm a native Oregonian and a writer/musician, so naturally I love rain. But this is a little too much. Give me an ounce of sunshine. Give me an excuse to wear something other than a long sleeved t-shirt.

But enough about the weather.

I'm going out to a show tonight. An indie dance-rock band I want to meet is playing a venue I want to check out. Steve's going along with me, despite the fact that he has to go to work early the next morning. I'm stoked. The show isn't until 10, but we'll probably make an evening out of it. Perhaps we'll crash in a coffee shop for a bit and have one of our infamous writing parties. (Who says you can't be writing buddies with your boyfriend? :D)

For awhile, I thought it would be cool to write a book of high school memoirs. I've also always wanted to write a sitcom. Recently, I've merged the two ideas and am currently working on a sitcom that may or may not be based on my own high school experiences. I'm calling it "The Band Room" and letting it evolve from there. It focuses on a group of oddball band geeks and their daily adventures in public high school.

Yeah, you guessed it: I was totally a band geek in high school. Bet you can't guess which one is me:
There I am, freshman year of high school, all suited up in my fancy Star Trek style uniform and posing with my clarinet. Barf.

(I'll give you a hint: I'm on the fourth row from the bottom, end of the row, right-hand side. I was having a hard time dealing with the aftermath of a bad perm...)

But enough history lessons. Back to the sitcom.

Fortunately, I kept really detailed journals of everything I experienced in high school. Though I already remember a lot, it has been really helpful to have those journals as reference material. Over the past couple of days, I've been doing a lot of reflecting on what it was like to be an awkward, suburban teenager. I just might be ready to bust out the first episode.

I think I'll attempt to clean my room first, though. I'm naturally a slob, but I'm finally getting tired of how messy it is. Also, I want to wear something cute tonight and am having a hard time knowing where all my clothes are. My sexy jeans are no good if I can't even find them.

I made some reference to my sexy jeans while at band practice the other day. Ryan just looks at me and says, "Now, are those the same jeans that used to belong to me?"

For the record, no. Though those particular jeans are pretty sexy.

Okay, I'm talking about pants again. That means this post should be over.

The end.