...and the thing is, I don't live in THAT small of a town.

I cannot go anywhere in middle Georgia without seeing someone that I know.

Most of these happenstances have been pleasant, but pleasant conversations don't make usually for very interesting stories. Regardless. First, at our friendly neighbourhood Barnes and Noble, I was drinking my soy/espresso drink (yes I know I am a hipster thank you for informing me of such) and waiting to meet two friends. In the process, I ran into two people from my old marching band who were generally unfriendly and waved politely while sipping their Frappuchinos and a girl from my youth orchestra who wants to go to college in Ithaca. We had been planning to meet and converse about living in the frozen tundra of the country, so seeing her at Barnes and Noble was convenient and provided me with great conversation.

The only reason this is funny and not absolutely ordinary is because that night she posted a Facebook status asking what she and her friend should do in Macon the next day (yes, it is difficult to find things to do in Macon), and I jokingly commented "run into me again, of course." What are the chances that she, who lives in Forsyth, and I, who live in Bibb County, would meet again the next day?

Apparently around 100%, because the next day at Kohl's with my mother I was delighted to see her waving at me from across the store.

Wow, my life is mundane.

The next day, I went to get gas. I figured this was relatively safe, as WHO MEETS ANYONE AT A GAS STATION? Apparently I do. As I waited, listening to Borodin's second symphony in my Honda Accord, a giant, mud-crusted truck pulls up to the pump on the opposite side of mine. Out pops the LAST person I expect to see on my break from college--my absolute polar opposite and high school antagonist. Needless to say, I was thrilled. He politely waved as he began fueling. I reluctantly turned the volume on the Borodin, gulped, and drove up to my pump. The dialogue went as follows:

Him: Hey Rachel, how've you been?
Me: Good, you?
Him: Good. School's been hard. You?
Me: I love it. I'm loving my music major.
Him: Well that's good.

(thankfully, my tank is now filled)

Him: Y'see, that's the difference between driving a car and drivin' a TRUCK.
Me: Hmm?
Him: I've been fueling since before you got here and you just finished.
Me: Nice to see you, have a good break!

(exit Rachel, thinking "and the other difference? My fuel economy is measured in miles to the gallon rather than gallons to the mile.")

The verdict? Making small talk with people I went to high school with isn't so bad. I'm getting better at making polite conversation. But if you wanted an example of sensible social lies, that's it.

Later that night, I left fashionable North Macon for downtown. I met at a friend's house, waited an hour and a half for my best friend, piled in a car, drove back to North Macon to pick up another friend while trying to figure out my best friend's defroster (not to mention trying not to be terrified of her driving, with some success at her credit), picked up said friend, made him drive us ALL THE WAY back down to Cherry Street, and ate at the new tapas/men's clothing restaurant/store called Dolce Vita. Delicious and decently priced. I figured, being all the way downtown, that I would not run into ANYONE else I knew. I thought I'd filled that quota.

Not so.

I was delighted to run into a friend that I vaguely know through a pit orchestra and my youth orchestra. She's a fantastic flautist and I seem to see her one out of every four times I go downtown. The odds were with me this time.

Ithaca is turning me into a hipster at breakneck speed. My friend Maxine had undergone this transition YEARS ago, in addition to actually knowing what's going on in downtown Macon on a Tuesday night. So we drove down to the Golden Bough, quite possibly my favourite bookstore on the planet. To our surprise, we met up with EVERY SINGLE OTHER HIPSTER in the middle Georgia area for an indie concert in the (tiny) back room. While I love this bookstore to death, I uphold that it is a TERRIBLE place for a concert, due to the fact that the back room where concerts are held is about the size of my dorm room. And, in addition to every other hipster in Middle Georgia, who did we run into?

Three people from Maxine, Shannon and Allaine's school, one of my best friends named Dustin, and the rest of his band, one of whom is a friend of my family, another I speak with online all the time, and a Midsummer Macon kid.

Oy.

Here's the thing: Dustin and I can't manage to see each other when we plan it. And between all of the other people we knew in this very tiny backroom with very loud but good music playing, there were so many connections, including pseudo-exes and I-kind-of-know-yous and awkward sideways glances that made me want to scream "MY LIFE IS AWKWARD!"

So I suppose the point of this VERY long post is that sometimes you want to go where everyone knows you. Sometimes that's unavoidable. And sometimes it would be really nice to be anonymous again.

Some Sort of Introduction

Hello, internet.

I am terrible with introductions, so I will make this as brief as possible so we can get to the actual blogging process. I'm Rachel, my age is way too much or way to little depending on how I'm acting, and I wear glasses. I like quoting Neil Gaiman. I like black coffee and travel mugs and writing and I have a soft spot in my heart for nice paper. I am wearing brightly coloured pants. I play music, which doesn't even begin to describe the all-consuming aspect of that. I love music, I study music, I listen to music, I write music (poorly). I am music. Anyway. I think that's enough for an awkward self-introduction. Besides, if you're reading this, you already know who I am.

Let the blogging begin.