Last night at the Decemberists* show, the intro announcer asked us to turn to our neighbor and make a friend. Rolling my eyes, I turned to Chatty Cathy next to me who'd been yakking with her friend very loudly (and possibly drunkenly) during the whole opening act, that I thoroughly enjoyed, and all I could think was JMFC if they do this the whole time I'm going to have to... ask them politely to quiet down... and if they don't, quite possibly I will kill them.
Chatty Cathy introduced herself and said (twice) how she really admired me for coming to a show alone. "I mean," she does it now and then but she's always standing down on the floor in the crowd. She never went to a show and actually sat alone waiting for the show to start.
I really didn't know what to say ( ... trying to organize my friends to go a show is like herding cats ... you get better seats when you are seating just one person ... THE HELL if I was missing this show just because I might not have anyone to go with - not that I asked, see first example in parenthetical thought process ... going alone means I don't have any Chatty Cathys to deal with ... I am too old and lazy to stand in a crowded floor space for three hours ... ), but since I figured she was drunk I just said thanks. Twice.
I live like a hermit not only in my own head, but in my own day to day life. Willingly. I'm not sure why people think that's so weird. (Or admirable.) Not to be gloomy, but it's been my experience that when you start relying on people, you get burned. If I let me down, it's my own damn fault.
Don't get me wrong. I love all my true friends dearly, each one for very different but very pure reasons. I just have to know that in the end, it's up to me to make myself and my life a happy one.
Perhaps I should just lower my day to day expectations.
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* Holy hell what a fantastic show. I can't remember a show where the crowd screamed SO LOUD for an encore. Thunderous beautiful applause, foot stomping and screaming. And holy hell what a fantastic show.
OH! And on the ballad Friday five. Someone at work asked me to describe their music, and I couldn't think of a decent example to compare them to. He said, "ballads?" And I said "NO!" thinking, of course, of power ballads by the hair bands of the 80s, because that is all that comes to mind when I hear the word "ballad." But then I thought about it, and said, "well, yeah... ballads about fictional characters in history, with lots of stormy seas and warfare, and accordions, pianos, violins, xylophones, bass drums and terribly depressing lyrics about death and love and consumption. And some regular love-type ballads too. It's music you want to listen to on a Saturday where it just rains and rains and rains, nonstop, all day."
He didn't really get it.
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