John Mayer is Everything I Could Hope For From a Celebrity of Superior Intelligence and More and I Adore Him.

I just returned from the most amazing concert of my EXISTENCE.

I have loved John Mayer since I was in 6th/7th grade. And now he enraptures me.

I just want to meet him and tell him that his lyrical genius speaks to my soul and that I find his slightly too-excessive guitar solos to be mesmerizing and worthy of the title of a "spiritual experience".

And to tell him that even though he speaks his mind too much while in the public eye, his candid approach to life and his wise soul inspire me.

So do his biceps and his perfectly coiffed hair.

But whatever. Those are but secondary to the depth and height of my respect and enjoyment of his musical talent.

I love him.

I think I may have screamed how much I loved him at least 20 times during the concert. Like...maybe after every song.

I don't know. Ask Courtney.

I'm going to write him a letter detailing the extent of my affections for him.

In my fantasy world my letter will magically bypass the pile of fan mail that John Mayer himself never actually reads and he will wake up one morning to find it on his pillow and he will open it and read it and realize that my admiration is so flattering that he would like to meet me in person.

And he will send his personal plane to pick me up and we will meet in his villa in some exotic location with his extensive Rolex watch collection and his John Coltrane records.

And we will share a meal and form an everlasting connection that he will be unable to forget and when we gaze into one another's eyes in a platonic sort of manner (because he is too old for me) he will realize that I am someone he has been waiting to meet. And that I, too, inspire him.

And our collective admiration and respect for one another will blossom into a cloud over our heads and precipitate happiness down and around our souls and saturate our hair. His perfect, perfect hair.

And he will ask me to write song lyrics for him. And I will blush humbly and acquiesce and dino my way back to North Carolina feeling like that girl who turned sixteen today that got a kiss from him on the cheek during the concert.

That would be ever so lovely.

I like my imagination because it allows to me envision myself as a much, much cooler version of who I'd like to be, rather than who I really am. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.

It is now 2:00 am and entirely too late for me to recount my spring break saga. Which was a delectable treat.

Class at 9:00. I am still wiped out from my adventure through the wilderness of backwoods Virginia during the wee hours of yesterday morning.

Time for sleep before I pass out in my desk chair. I just HAD to tell someone how incredibawelicious John Mayer was this evening.

AGKAFKLAJDLAKSDJASKLFADGJHAFJAHDFAJSFHASJHDSJASJKLASFAS.

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.

p.s. I am being serious about my letter. I don't even care if he ever reads it. I must do what I can to express my devotion and I will act in accordance to this demand.

Good Night.