I want to scream at the top of my lungs.

June 25, 2009

I can’t stop smiling. I want to scream and punch things like a mad woman, but I can’t. Instead, I’ll just smile and run in circles while listening to Taking Back Sunday.

Last night I said to my mother, “I would do anything to see Taking Back Sunday again.” “Well, hon, it’s over. You can’t be mad about it,” she replied. My mother had it wrong. I wasn’t mad, I was extremely sad. I wanted to have a good cry over it. Really, I should be lucky I even saw Taking Back Sunday at all. Instead, I moped about not being close to the stage or to put it this way, I couldn’t see the stage at all. All I heard was my voice next to Adam Lazzara’s voice. It was like watching a YouTube video.

I sat on the bus today, God knows how hot it was. The humidity was stiffling, and I could just barely breathe. I flipped on my phone and pulled up the interent. I immeadiately checked my email, hoping there would be something worth reading. I opened one my mother had sent me. My jaw dropped. Taking Back Sunday were coming back to Kansas City September 4th with Blink-182 and Weezer. To top that off, tickets were only twenty dollars.

I turned to my friend and grabbed her arms and shook her wildly. “GUESS WHAT?! TAKING BACK SUNDAY ARE COMING BACK TO KANSAS CITY!!!” I yelled, hopping up and down in my seat. “Phoenixx, calm down,” she said to me, but I couldn’t. My stomach was way too excited to simply calm down. I knew instantly that this was going to be a damn good bus ride home.

Nothing mattered. All I cared about at that moment were tickets. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs with joy and race up my front porch. I wanted to kick at things violently because no one knew what I was feeling. I felt amazing.

I later found out the twenty dollar tickets sold out, BUT thirty five dollar tickets were still available. So of course I bought them. Nothing matters. Though Taking Back Sunday do matter, and I want to live in the moment of their performance because I know it will be stunning.

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You’re Gonna Go Far Kid

February 16, 2009

I was thinking. If I was offered the opportunity to be a journalist for a music magazine (possibly Alternative Press or Rolling Stone) or to be a guitarist in an amazing band. Which would I choose? I had wanted to play guitar since I was nine years old. Practicing my air guitar in the privacy of my own room, completely spazing. Or pouring my guts out with ink and paper in hopes of becoming an utterly brilliant writer.

Being in a band would be quite interesting. I’d enjoy the fun questionnaires you get in interviews and your “humble” opinion on things. Looking super fierce in when you play live so you can intimidate people. Or to be some coffee drinking freak, blinded from the sun, glued to your computer, writing obsesser. Wearing T-shirts and tight jeans, strutting around like you know what you’re doing. Reader, does that thought ever cross your mind? I wonder where life will take me quite often. Who will I end up being in the next couple of years (I’m hoping I’ll stay true to who I am now.)?

Reader, let’s be honest. Would either of those jobs fully satisfy me? I seem to be quite an undecided person. I purchase an item at a store. “I love it! I’m so happy I bought it!” The next twenty minutes. “What the heck did I just waste my money on?! I could have bought ‘such and such’.” Yep, that is me. Being on the road with a band would be fun for a while. Awake at all hours, doing what you love, traveling, and playing shows. My only problem? I get motion sickness. I’d practically be bulimic. Then the shows would get tiring, performing the same songs until you write a new one. I suppose I shouldn’t think so negatively, maybe I’d be able to make a big impact on a lot of kids. Then there is writing. After a while, what is there to talk about? You are usually seen with a pen in your hand or your eyes are burning from staring at a computer screen for so many hours.

I guess I can be quite the “party pooper”, but that’s just me my friend. You either do or don’t like me, I don’t care too much. Either one I’d love. Writing would be easier to handle, though I’d miss the comfort of my guitar, Bella, too much. The excitement of playing a gig and going crazy on stage sounds and looks intruiging. Who knows where the world might take me….