Il Postino & Musician Hands.

Can you explain to me why this made me cry today? 

Today, Michael Sowder (My ultimate professor crush--like a celebrity crush, except more intellectually stimulating. Also, he's 46 years old.) screened his favorite movie, Il Postino, in my poetry class. It's an Italian film about the Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda and my, my. Is it gorgeous. Completely about the power of language. It's all in subtitles, of course, but you forget about that when you're knee deep in metaphors and feeling. I suggest renting it. And I suggest Michael Sowder's class. Not just because he smells like a mixture of aftershave and genuine leather, but also because he is a brilliant man. I adore him. And guess what! Today, as he was returning one of my poems to me, marked with his comments (I'm too nervous to read them; the man is a genius.), he told me he noticed that I attended the same poetry reading he did last week. He asked me what I thought of it and I told him and we had a little discussion about it. I mean, people care about what I have to say lately, you know? And that just makes a world of difference in my education. I have loved learning and growing as a poet, non-fiction writer, reader, editor, contributor to society... I mean, it's just so rich, and I can't wait to figure out what's next for me. My Aunt Ginny is from the east coast and she told me she graduated with the degree I'm working towards and her first job out of college was to write landscape descriptions in catalogues. So, I mean, a person has to work their way up in the writing community, but I can't wait to see where it's going to take me. I am so grateful for the opportunity I have to learn. I really do love it. 

In other news, I only do my homework in the Math Lab now because I'm finally outsmarting the system and there's that spot on the wall where you write your name down if you're stuck on a problem and an assignment that usually takes me four hours by myself takes only two in the math lab. Suck on that, numbers! 

AND OMG I HAVE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING. 

So, back in the spring of 2013, I took a biology class. And I hated basically every second of it. I say basically because I didn't hate every second. There was this boy in that class and I sat next to him every. single. day. That's real life. Every day, we sat beside each other. On the back row. I wrote lots of blog posts about him. I referred to him as Musician Hands because he looked like someone who would be good at musical things. He had, well, musician hands. So, anyway. He was so incredibly good looking that most days, I JUST COULD NOT EVEN. But I was always too scared to talk to him because there was always this other girl sitting beside us (hahaha "us") and really she was sitting beside him, but her name was Ariana and that part I know for sure. She always talked to him and I always eaves dropped on their conversations, but I was never able to figure out his name. SO THIS IS WHERE THE STORY GETS GOOD. But I was obsessed with him. Like, really, really obsessed. He wore this black gingham button up shirt once and omg it validated my whole entire existence. That really has nothing to do with anything, but I wanted to throw it in there because it was seriously the greatest piece of fabric that I have ever known to exist.

The other day, I was painting some furniture out on my front porch and since I've got a first level apartment, everyone who walks by always notices me out there because I look so incredibly ghetto fab in all my pajama shorts glory. Anyway, I'm painting furniture AND MUSICIAN HANDS WALKS BY. I had to stop and stare. And he did the same. Well, he didn't stop, but he did look at me and smile as he walked up the stairs opposite me. And I just thought, OMG THAT WAS MUSICIAN HANDS THE BOY THAT I STALKED FOR A GOOD, LONG SEMESTER. And then, the next day, I forgot about him again. 

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MOOOOORE! 

So then, last night, Mels and I were getting out of the car in our parking lot, coming home from Ward Prayer, AND MUSICIAN HANDS WALKS BY, LOOKS AT US, AND SMILES. And all I could think was, "Hm. I still don't know his name." and Mels says "Wow, that boy is gooood looking" and I just yell "THAT'S MUSICIAN HANDS, MELS!" and we both have a small dance party in the car because Melodey and I are never attracted to the same boys so when we agree, we sometimes have a dance party. This time, it happened in the car. Also, she had heard me talking about him for two years and finally, she knew why. BECAUSE HE WAS SO DAMN ATTRACTIVE. 

AND THIS IS IT! WHAT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! THE POINT OF THIS SEEMINGLY POINTLESS STORY! 

So, today, I'm in the Math Lab. And I've been there for an hour and a half. And I'm so pleased with myself for getting my math homework done before noon. AND IN WALKS MUSICIAN HANDS. And I think to myself, "I STILL DON'T KNOW YOUR NAME, YOU GLORIOUS HUMAN BEING!" and do you know what he did? He came right up and introduced himself. 

No, just kidding. He didn't. I do wish that happened, though. 

BUT THIS IS WHAT HE DID: 

He needed help, so he put his name on the board! I was so excited! And the name was... are you ready?

Drumroll, please...

SAM! I WAS RIGHT ALL THIS TIME! I LITERALLY AM THE BEST CREEP IN THE WHOLE WORLD! HEY, CIA! HIRE ME! 

Anyway, now it really doesn't matter because I'm pretty sure he's dating the girl who lives in 738, but I don't care. It's like that word that finally comes to you when it's been on the tip of your tongue. This word (or name, as it were) FINALLY came to me. And, I'm speaking in metaphors here, so he wasn't literally on the tip of my tongue for two years, but I wouldn't be mad if he had been. But anyway. Now it doesn't really matter. I just couldn't wait to tell my blog. Musician Hands used to be a hot topic around here. 

BUT ISN'T THAT EXCITING? 

I wrote about him in a couple of places. Here for sure. And here, too. Probably other places if you're curious. 

This is my life. The end. 

And for the record, he doesn't look like a Sam. 

He looks like a god.