Mistaken identity happens all the time. To me. In the course of the past couple of weeks, I have been mistaken for a pregnant woman, a high school student, and Ixi. Yes, I’ve been busy. Tonight at a wildly successful concert:nova event (with no thanks to me – I apparently react to malfunctions of technology much the same way as I do fire – I don’t. Perhaps surtitle operator is not in my future…) there were a lot of blurred identities floating around. I was assumed to be Patrick’s sister, because, hmm, some likeness, I was introduced as Ixi multiple times (not that I mind being referred as such a great individual), among a few others. In the music world, we really do all know each other, at the very least by proxy. We were at that festival, had that roommate, played that gig, saw that concert, took that audition, whatever. I noticed at the end of the concert, gathered around, we have blended identities, and it might almost be hard to tell us all apart with our same mannerisms and stories, so I won’t really hold anyone completely to blame for this. Except for the person who thought I might have a bun in the oven.

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