It wasn't my fault. Okay, so it was really. After a delightful lunch with Srav and Stacie at the Udupi Café in Cary (who knew that honey and carrots would work so well together?), I asked to be dropped on Franklin, chiefly so I could buy a ticket for the concert which I supposed to be going to later on. That took all of five minutes, so I was at a loose end for the next six hours or so. That's obviously very dangerous. Yes, I decided to have a walk. I went over to Battle Park, one of my favourite places around UNC campus. It has an open-air theatre, lots of streams, and lots of pathways through the woodland. I always miss it when I'm not here (along with other things, obviously). So I walked. It was quite pretty; parts of the woods are still completely bare, whereas other parts are now flowering all over the place. I'd like to point out that I didn't actually get lost in the woods. However, when I came out of Battle Park, it was into a rather confusing housing estate that seemed to loop back on itself in all directions. I was a little bewildered, and then Collin called. He requested my presence, and I had to tacitly admit that I had no clue where I was. Piled on top of my Target adventure last Tuesday, I was beginning to gain a reputation. Eventually, though, Bill and Naomi came to my rescue, picking me up and whisking me off to the others. The rest of the afternoon (and most of the evening too, come to think of it) was spent at Bill's apartment in Carrboro, along with a seemingly never-ending supply of wine. Not bad, considering that I met him for the first time on Friday night. Bill is another of what I call 'mirror-images' - computer nerds who seem to have much less trouble with life than I do, in that he wasn't the wallflower sitting around most of the time. I wish I could borrow a little of that energy sometimes. Anyway, despite my long-standing feelings of inadequacy (many of which are just a product of my mind, after all), much fun was had by all, with people choosing between the Hilton Sisters and the Olsen Twins, a man called Elbow, phantom fan letters to Natalie Portman, and Christa's repeated attacks on the tomato supply. It got a little colder outside, so we retreated indoors, where things took on a sleepier tone. At which point, Christa decided that she was going to go home to bed instead of the show. Which didn't go down well with everybody else. They tried cajoling her, but to little avail, and then they were forced to give away their secret: The others were planning on springing a surprise party of Christa, Naomi, and me afterwards. Shock! I must admit that I thought they were joking to try and get Christa more enamoured with the idea of going to the show. But no, they really had talked about it for ages, keeping it a fairly-well guarded secret. In the end, we compromised; Christa went off home to rest, but promised to come along to Collin's later. The rest of us headed to the show: The Rosebuds at the Cat's Cradle. Now, I hadn't heard them before, but I was quite impressed; an indie band styled on UK indie staples like Ash and Spearmint, rather than too many American ones. And Collin gave me their album for my birthday, so hurrah! The party turned out to be a little subdued (especially since Laura and Naomi had fallen asleep waiting for us, and were thus absent), but it was nice and cosy. New Order videos, breaking in my camera, and an INVASION OF THE POLKA-DOTS! A day full of ups, downs, lefts, rights, sun-dried tomatoes, dress-up closets, autistic worms, and men in fat suits slapping each other. A day of Carrboro in all its glory. Tonight? Well, we're heading off to see I LOVE YOU, BUT I'VE CHOSEN DARKNESS. On the strength of their name alone.