October 05, 2003 - 10:00 p.m.

Tonight, I apologized to a man for not being the woman he wanted me to be.

It's not that he told me he wished I could more laid back or keep a cleaner house or bend my legs back over my head, and I just couldn't deliver. No, I mean that he thought I was someone else, a specific person, a person named Elena. And I said, no, I'm not that person.

And then I said, "Sorry."

Twice, actually.

Now, I'm thinking there are a couple of explanations for my lameness. First of all, this guy is the lead singer of one of my favorite local bands, and I believe I've expressed before in these pages how I'm afraid to look directly at him, lest I burst into flames. I honestly don't know why this is the case. It's not a crush thing. Maybe it's because he writes songs that make me sob into my beer, and yet sings them with a ridiculous grin on his face. Sometimes, it's hard to look directly at anyone who can make you cry. (Oh, and hey, you should really check out their link and listen to the songs they have for download. Fucking amazing.)

The other reason might be that I showed up at this gig alone. I often miss this band when they're playing, and somehow, I've found myself in San Francisco with a group of friends who, on the whole, don't really enjoy the sad, country-tinged music. I love my friends, don't get me wrong, but that's just not their thing.

So instead of trying to force someone to go with me, I just decided to go alone. Now, in theory, that makes me sound kind of cool, independent -- hip, even. But in reality, I had to bring a book so that I'd have something to do while I was waiting for the show to start. (White Teeth, if you're wondering, and so far, it's pretty good!)

So there I am, sitting at the bar, reading this book and hoping that nobody thinks I'm an incredible dork for bringing a book to a bar, when this singer comes up to me. So naturally, I choked, and apologized -- and hey, did I mention I did it twice? -- for something that could in no way be construed as my fault.

I guess it bugs me, because this is something I try not to do -- apologize for things that aren't my doing. And, really, I can generally be much wittier than "No, I'm not her (pause, sincere smile, sheepish shrug). Sorry."

Yeah, you're right. I should just get over it.

On the other hand, I did, tonight, look at someone and think to myself, "Wow. She's really rocking the Marcia Gay Harden look." I only mention it because I'm pretty sure I might be the first person in the world ever to think that thought, in exactly those words. So I just wanted to record it here.

OK, I'm off to bed now. I do have another entry in the works, something I've been writing for almost a week now. And I'm confident that when you read it, it'll make you stop and think to yourself, "Wow. A week? For this?"

In other news, it would seem that the Internet more or less wants me to get a tattoo, but I'm still mulling it over. (Yeah, I know it's only seven comments, and one of them is actually from me, but that's still an enormous percentage of my readership.)

Also, Emily told me an incredibly funny story the other day, and you should bug her until she writes about it.

JournalCon in two weeks! In Austin! Squeeeee, y'all.

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