Oh My God

Tuesday, I went up to Columbus with my fam, but this was different from the usual trips north, because I was in MY car. I had tickets to see Ida Maria, who is a musician from Sweden... I think. I don't know what I was expecting. I found her through some blog or another a few months back and instantly fell in love with her most well known single, "I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked."

If you haven't heard of her, no worries. Most people haven't. My sister directed me to her before I 'found' her on my own, but, for whatever reason, I didn't actually LISTEN to her music until later. But it was catchy and loud and very, very punk-rock. At least, it was to my less than savvy ears.

So, when I found out she was playing the Basement up in Columbus, I instantly bought tickets to the show. INSTANTLY. There was no thought process, no dilly dallying or wondering. I knew I had the day off, and I knew that I wanted to see her live.

The opening act was Ezra Furman & the Harpoons, an interesting band that I wouldn't mind hearing more of. I was in the ten-by-ten foot concrete square directly in front of the stage, and I stood there, marveling at the fact that no one was dancing, at all, and that the guy in front of me kept moving to exactly where I was standing, ruining my view. I went from being able to see the whole band to seeing the top third of the lead singer, and that was it.

That little concrete square stayed relatively empty during EF&TH, so I (wrongly) I assumed it would stay empty for Ida. But the MINUTE they walked off the stage and the crew started setting up for Ida, it began to get very, very crowded. So crowded that the only reason I had any room to move is no-one was standing behind the tall guy, who was still somewhat in front of me.

Ida took the stage and everyone cheered. I was shocked by how loud and well-done the music was. It's rare to hear a live musician sound so GOOD live. As the crowd started to move, enjoying the music, I felt someone knock into me. It wasn't the first time someone had knocked into me, but it was a repeated hitting. I don't mind dancing at concerts - honestly, I LOVE dancing at live shows - but I don't like dancing when it is moshing and it is knocking into me. I scoped out my spot during the opening the act SPECIFICALLY so I wouldn't have to deal with asshole moshers. But this girl...

She did not stop. Ida played for maybe 45 minutes, and during that time, several of her friends took turns 'watching' her, which seemed to consist of helping this girl throw herself into the crowd in a stupid, reckless attempt at crowd surfing. EVERY SINGLE TIME she did this, she got dropped very quickly and smacked her head on the concrete floor. The second time it happened, Ida asked, several times, "Are you okay? Honey, you okay?" After that, I think she (and the majority of the crowd) accepted that this girl adhered to the idea of 'I get knocked down, but I get up again.'

I hated this girl, and her friends/family. Mainly her friends and family. She was so far gone - Jon and I nearly had an argument over this, but I still hold to the fact that she HAD to have been blitzed or high. She had this wild look in her eyes, a look of absence. She was not there. To me, when you go with people to a concert, especially if you are going to be drinking, you are there to take care of your friends. She should have been taken home, especially given how she was acting before the Ida took the stage.

The concert was all right - I would've liked a little bit more banter and interaction between Ida and the crowd. She was truly good - she sounded GOOD, and was very passionate.

At the end of the concert, I raced out of the crowd, knowing, instinctively, that I did not want to be in the central area for the encore. I was right - the girl lived up to Ida's penultimate song, two songs too late, and stripped off her top and bra, to the wild cheers of everyone not in the actual pit with her.

In the light of day, outside of that crowd and away from that girl, I can say that the concert was fun. Would I go see her again? I honestly don't know. I wouldn't stand in the front again - I kept getting pushed closer and closer to the stage, which meant I was closer to the girl, which caused me no end of anxiety. I got kneed in the face one of the times the girl tried to crowd surf, and that was enough injury and moshing for me. I screamed along to "Oh My God," the only way I could calm down. It was exhilarating and terrifying and awful and fun.

Tonight I get to see Blink-182, Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco. Maybe that concert will treat me better.

A wedding, a zombie after party, and an argument over the word 'bewildered'

One of my dearest friends, who now goes by Dr. Wife, got married last Friday. Dr. Wife got me through Chinese, and kindly reminded me that it is nearly impossible to fail that class after a near-epic failure of a final oral presentation. She's also amazingly funny, charming, and the type of person that you want around because she just manages to make things more fun.

Did I mention she and her husband decided that a post-wedding zombie party was the perfect way to celebrate?

The wedding was a little over a half-hour away from Jon's apartment, so we left with about 45 minutes until it was supposed to start. We had directions, we our zombie gear, we had everything we needed. What we didn't have, charmingly enough, was the knowledge that I-80 just off of I-76 is currently being repaired. Neither did any of the other drivers on the road, including the 12 billion semis in front of us. The best part was that, over a mile away from the construction, traffic stopped. Dead. Completely. Oh, it inched forward, creeping along at a snail's pace, but I only had eyes for my dashboard clock. Eventually, the brake lights disappeared and traffic crept through the construction, resuming 'legal' speed with Jon and I assuming our hawk-eye positions the second the bright orange 'END CONSTRUCTION' sign came into view.

We got there literally seconds before the bridesmaids were supposed to start entering the chapel.

The service was beautiful. The bride was spectacular - when Jon and I rushed in, I stopped, dumb-founded to find my friend so gussied up and, honestly, drop-dead gorgeous. I'd never been to a wedding before, so I found myself wondering if I was supposed to say 'amen' or something else every time the moment came to say something. Fish out of water, my half-Jew self was.

We were supposed to party immediately following the nuptials, but ended up getting rained out. You can't have a proper zombie bash indoors, you know. At least, it is very expensive to have a zombie party indoors. All the smashed glass and blood really does a number on your homeowners insurance. So we made plans for the next day and eventually parted ways. For most of us, it was the first time we'd spent time together in a month or longer, so there was no rush to return back to our hotels and apartments.

The next day was significantly more successful, at least, the zombie party was. Once we got there. Jon maintains that we got 'slightly bewildered for a while' while I maintain that we got 'lost.' There was a detour with no follow up signs and it took us a little while to realize that the exit we needed was probably on the other side of the highway, and if we got back on it, we might manage to make it to the zombie party before the big next day reception. We did, albeit with a certain amount of... tension in the car. But we got there!

I ended up being a zombie farm girl, while Jon went with Billy Mays. Taste? What is this taste of which you speak? One of Dr. Wife's bridesmaids was Paula Abdul's career, and Dr. Wife's husband was Heath Ledger. Taste is for other people.

The rest of the day went beyond well. There was food and booze and games, the kind that you actually want to play (a card game called Fluxx was played a few times). I did not want the weekend to end, and am looking forward to the next big celebration that draws my friends together. There's something magical about weddings, something I'd have to be a much better writer to capture. So, I leave you with a video:

Feast your eyes, box your ears

I've not been having the best few days, so I decided some pictures were in order. I love photos of fireworks, more than I can even begin to describe. They just make my heart swell with joy and anticipation, like the build-up before your favorite band takes the stage.

This was one of the first photos to really POP OUT at me and scream 'pay attention.' It reminds me of tinsel and christmas lights, without the feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach when you remember you have to take it all down in a few weeks.

Butterflies. Does anyone else see them? Or is it just me?

This makes me think of summer and deep sea creatures at the same time; the green at the top of the photo MUST be a light up antennae meant to attract a hapless fish. The lights at the bottom MUST be a wild strip of rides on the boardwalk. Although the boardwalk rides were often more colorful, they just make me think of boardwalk rides, and the pure joy of reaching the top of a ferris wheel, only to come plunging back to earth.

A dancer is there, surrounded by lights; the start and end of a dramatic scene - her lover has left her, and she is about to sprout the wings she needs. The shape of her head just says 'surprise and hurt,' doesn't it?

An animal, rows of wicked teeth, a fierce tail with a dangerous stinger. Its body weight should not be supported by its few delicate legs, but, like the bumblebee that shouldn't be able to fly, it walks. He seems lonely, up there in the sky, all by himself.

Summer days and vague threats aimed at my car

Summer break started almost a week ago, and I've been the queen of the un-motivated since then. Part of it is that I tend to have bouts of insomnia due to stress, which has left me in bed until 11 or later. I was up and at 'em by 9:30 at the latest this quarter, every single day, so I guess I'm making up for lost time?

I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to do this summer, what things I'm going to do to fill the hours that I'm not at work or doing anything else that would amount to much of anything. I'm hoping to learn to sew, to volunteer and to read all of the books that I've had to set aside and give up on this past year. But right now, I just want to cocoon myself in bed and dream all the hours away, because I'm just special that way. 

By the end of this week, the biggest thing I'll have managed will be helping my dad replace my spark plugs and wires, because my car has decided that it needs me to hate it a little bit. 

As you might remember, I had to replace the head gasket in March after finding out that it was slowly falling apart and would likely EXPLODE and DESTROY THE EARTH if I didn't get it replaced. Okay, my mechanic didn't use those words exactly, but the implied outcome was that I'd be all dead and corpseified, a look that I imagine wasn't THAT popular on the Spring runways.

Then, at the very end of April, I performed the Worst Parking Job Ever and destroyed my front right tire. Because life isn't fun unless the Wal-Mart employees are marveling at your exploded tire and asking your dad where the car is and whether this is something his kid manages to do regularly. Teach me to run late for work.

Oh! And in May, wonderful, glorious, I hated it so much that I contemplated moving to another country where they use a different calendar system May, I guess something in the undercarriage needed welded back into place. I'm not clear on what it was, exactly, because I wasn't home much that week for various reasons, and Dad went ahead and got it fixed because it sounded really, really bad. I know it rattled.

So, we come in on June, and I'm in the post-finals haze, wondering how, exactly, I got through the past 11 weeks, when my car refuses to climb a hill or start on the first try. Or  the second. Or the third. THEN it'd start and I'd give it a firm lecture on behavior and how if it doesn't clean up its act, I'm going to... and then I'd run out of steam because nothing I could say was quite threatening enough. "I'm going to sell you to the scrap man" only works if you have the cash to buy the next car.

After a few days of The Car Acting Stupid, Act IV, it all magically cleared up. Well, except for the hills thing, it's still having some issues with those. Dad has declared that it must be a plugs/wires issue, given that it cleared up once it dried out (we had the rain of cats and dogs last week). So, I went to the auto shop yesterday and bought all the nifty things that I need to make my car run like an effing normal car. I made the error of wearing girly clothes (wedges and one of those elastic top dresses), and clearly didn't know much about my car, so the guy who worked there gently asked if my dad was going to put them in for me.

Maybe I should learn the ins-and-outs of my car this summer.