Tag, you’re it! Here are the rules: Each tagged person must post ten things about themselves. You have to choose and tag ten people. Go to their blogs and tell them you tagged them. :)
But I’m so boring though…
Ok then, here goes. If you already know this stuff, forgive me.
1.I’m getting my master’s degree in Library Science. 2. At one point I knew four languages besides English, but not anymore. 3. I’m a barista at a local, independent coffee shop (make all the hipster jokes you like, I’ve heard them all) 4. Along that vein and to entirely toot my own horn, I make a really fucking good cappuccino. 5. I’m an only child. 6. The first thing I ever wanted to be when I grew up was the ringmaster of a circus. 7. Until I went to my first circus and it scared the ever loving shit out of me. 8. I will become obsessed with certain songs for a period of time, to the point where I’ll listen to them at least once or twice a day. Right now, it’s Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men. 9. I like wine. A lot. 10. I’ve never been to Europe, and it’s KILLING ME.
At great risk of embarrassing myself, I give you the start of a Martin/Molly fic…
“Your turn, Martin,” said Douglas taking his seat in the cockpit once again. “The lemon is, once again, in play.”
“You’re lucky this is such a long flight, otherwise I never would have agreed to play,” said Martin remembering the humiliation of attempting to stand up for himself, only to find out there was a lemon taped to his hat.
“Yes Martin I know. You’ve only said it three times now.” Stated Douglas as Martin stood up. The captain checked his hat before putting it on his head. He gave a nod to Douglas and ventured out of the flight deck. The flight was a full one with almost every seat full. Martin began to make his way down the aisle, nodding to the passengers as he passed. He was so focused on finding the lemon that he almost didn’t notice the young woman sitting alone at the back of plane, a bright yellow lemon sitting on top of the bag on the seat next her.
“Aha!” exclaimed Martin as he snatched up the lemon.
“Can I help you?” asked the girl. Martin looked at the pretty brown haired girl with big brown eyes and nearly dropped the lemon.
“Oh, um, I-I was just looking for this, this,” stammered Martin pointing to the citrus in his hand.
“Lemon?” offered the girl.
“Lemon, yes that’s it,” said Martin summoning up a smile. “I’m the, uh, Captain. My name’s Martin.” He said nervously, extending a hand.
“I’m Molly,” she replied, a slight blush tinting her cheeks as she shook his hand.
And it will take some time to learn what’s real, you may have to beg, and borrow, and you will surely steal. Remember all those lonely sessions turned into yesterday’s lessons to never forget love, to never forget love.
Here I am, tooling along, writing one of the most depressing parts of Breathing’s Just a Rhythm, and bathing in the angst and Martin Crieff feelings. Or a I like to call it, Thursday. Everything is fine.
And then I notice what music is playing.
Sorry About the Doom, Slow Club
And I know, your heart is beating slow, and out of time with mine so now I’ll say goodbye
Ok, that’s fine. I can deal. Oh wait, what’s next?
One More Time With Feeling, Regina Spektor (aka the song that inspired this story, gave me the title, and embodies the general spirit of the whole thing)
You thought by now you’d be so much further than you are. You thought by now they’d see that you had come so far.
Two Points for Honesty, Guster
If that’s all you will be, you’ll be a waste of time.