At band camp At the café I work at, I had the honor of connecting with one lesbian bartender who works there, and is the daughter of one very-notable-previously-huge-alcoholic-dude-who-abandoned-the-daughter-who-he-claims-to-be-the-love-of-his-life, New York City author by the name of Alan Kaufman.
Although I have no idea why, I am positive that said encounter with said lesbian bartender is obviously happening for a reason because I am from NYC also, and the world works in mysterious ways, and she is complex and awesome, and I am complex
and awesome, and we all our complex. And awesome. Big breath. I know what you’re thinking.
“Didn’t this girl’s mother ever teach her not to use run-on sentences?”
Well, let me tell you something. Firstly, no my mother did NOT teach me aforementioned grammatical faux-pas. She’s foreign, OK?! And no, I am not a lesbian. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian, relax. Gay pride all the way!!!
But back to what’s important, here. Isi, my bartender friend, is a phenomenal songwriter/composer. After work this Friday, we were having a nice chit-chat whilst closing shop when she asked me to stop what I was doing and listen. She started to sing a song she wrote, and I couldn’t believe how easily she was able to perform it, even though singing/performance is not even her forte. In all honesty, I kind of wanted to laugh because the entire situation was outright awkward and unexpected
and I am an eleven-year-old child; but from a professional standpoint, woman was amazing! I immediately began to question myself and my poor, yet ever-improving performance skills. Isn’t this supposed to come naturally to me? After all, it is what I love, isn’t it?
Obviously, I have trouble deciphering which parts of a story are important to write about, and which are completely futile. But I’ve learned throughout my 21 years of living that I shouldn’t blame my erratic story-telling on ADHD. Perhaps they are these random elements that our brains choose to hold on to that define who we are. And maybe, just maybe, time will tell how all these seemingly unconnected facts are meant to come together; because surely they will. They must.
In the meantime, I leave you with a piece of yet another Adele cover, since the world has obviously not been exposed to one, too many of these, already. It’s a video of a jam session I had with a peer in preparation for a class performance. Yes I was hungover. Yes Gavriel’s (the guitarist) socks are cool. And yes, I fucking love Adele.