I’ve always had the family wander lust. Unfortunately, I’ve grown up in Baltimore the majority of my life, so that wander lust has been tempered with a hearty dose of “If You Go Outside, You Will Die.” Add to that the complications from Mom’s stroke, and for the past six months, I sometimes only leave the house to go with Mom to her therapy appointments and my volunteers shift at the Walters, where I’ve taken to wandering the streets, looking for new, cheap places to eat.

But no more!

I need to get out before I start actually enjoying daytime TV.

I briefly had the idea that I would join OKCupid to meet new people, expand my small, incestuous circle of friends, and maybe even go on a date omg. But my brother has been on OKC for years. Years. I am well acquainted with its’ perils from a man’s perspective; I can only imagine how much worse it’ll be for me as a woman. So no. The internet is my happy place where I talk to friends and watch videos of kittens and watch 70’s horror flicks and research mythology for stories and generally escape the looming mound of crap that is adulthood. I am not joining a dating site; that would be like laying out a welcome mat for douchebaggery and the destruction of any faith in humanity I have left.

Instead, I’m going to brave Baltimore and get out of the house. I’m going to meet new people the old fashioned way (though seriously it’s not like the concept of pen pals never existed before the internet I mean really). I’m going to see new parts of the city and participate in cool, artistic, EXTREMELY geeky activities where I will hopefully meet other cool, artistic, geeky types who I can then bring home and introduce to my grandfather, who will ideally die from displeasure over me having a life.

How will I accomplish this task, you ask?

Coming across the Baltimore Rock Opera Society has always been one of my favorite parts of wandering the streets during Artscape. There’s nothing quite as good for the soul as finding a group of anachronistic men and women dressed like the just escaped the Thunder Dome, chanting and singing madly across from a craft booth selling hand blown glass animals and a face painter.

They’re starting production on a new show, The Electric Pharaoh, set in a futuristic ancient Egypt. They need volunteers for all that behind the scenes stuff I used to do with BVAF once upon a time. There will be lasers. Rock opera. Ancient Egypt. Some sort of cyberpunk technology. Lasers. There is nothing not to like.

pond and smith flail

I’m going to go there, dammit, and I am going to make friends. New friends. Better friends. Friends who don’t already know all my other friends. And we shall go to free summer concerts and share cat pictures and we shall encourage each other in all our varied artistic endeavors. And if I’m really really lucky, one of them will be an insanely good tattoo artist who’ll tattoo me in exchange for stories and violin lessons and all the home-baked lemon squares and the presence of my charmingly acerbic personality. And one day, one of these shiny new people will introduce me to a friend who’s new in town and he’ll be muscly enough that I won’t have to fear a strong wind blowing him away like the pseudo-hipsters who hang around Mt. Vernon but not so muscly that he can hulk out and rip up his shirts (okay nvm I might dig that) and he’ll understand my aversion to mayonnaise while I gently tease him for his fear of lobsters and we shall face the cephalopod menace together as we eat all the calamari. Then at night, we’ll hold each others hands as we haltingly confess that there are a handful of Nickelback songs we actually sorta maybe really really like, and he will be my body pillow when I need to watch an alliance of men and elves win the battle at Helms Deep and we will mock people who home brew though we’re secretly envious of their ability to have beer whenever they want it because, man, it would be good to celebrate the salvation of Middle Earth with some ale or mead or something.

Wow, that got away from me. Yeesh.

But my point stands.

I need to get out of the house. I need to meet new people. I need to be involved with a rock opera set in Egypt involving lasers. Even if it’s just one night a week to paint sets and scavenge props. My soul demands it.

Wish me luck!

ETA: Okay, I totally lied about them not knowing any of my friends, first of all because this is Smalltimore and it’s impossible not to have at least one mutual acquaintance, and second because @TerminallyPoetic is driving me and we are going to seek out interesting people with quirky day jobs and names like Zephyr and she’s probably going to collect them in jars or something so they can watch K-dramas all day together. Or not. I dunno. It seems like something she’d do. I’m still distracted by the thought of lasers.


About Morgan Maria D'Isidoro

Morgan Maria D'Isidoro has lived in Baltimore, MD for most of her life, saving a handful of failed escape attempts. Given the murder rates, she'll probably die here too. Morgan is a writer of speculative fiction and poetry, a musician of dubious quality, cat aficionado, art history fangirl, kitchen sorceress, recovering pyromaniac, accomplished liar, and an all around person of questionable employability.
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