It never fails to crack me up. NEVER.
Last night, Colin, who I’ve met several times, didn’t know who I was right away. Finally, he said, “OH! YOU’RE THE NUMBER ONE FAN!”
I’m either the girl that drives four hours, ‘New Hampshire”, or Tam, when I’m with them. ‘Number one fan’ has been thrown around before, but I’ve never been known by that. It’s something the band members have said to me, but it’s never been my identity… Considering the last number one fan wound up in the band, I’m curious as to what my future holds. *grin*
I was deemed unusually huggable and then jinxed Syracuse. (w00t! I’m so glad Michigan won! For a bunch of reasons…) My drunk friend from the last show there left me alone, which was nice. Nothing makes me happier than freaky drunk guys not recognizing me.
Apparently, the laws in Woodstock (NY) are a wee bit relaxed when it comes to illegal substances. There was a guy openly selling shrooms, and the weed. Oh, dear Dog, the weed! Being smoked on the patio like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Which I suppose it is out there in the land of peace, love, and dirty hippies. (Seriously, the one guy really needed a bath. Or some deodorant. Maybe both. Oh, and a toothbrush.)
I headed back to the hotel reeking of smoke. Both tobacco and decidedly not tobacco. When I woke up this morning, the first thing I smelled was pot. It was so strong around me that I’m surprised I didn’t get high. Then, again, I might have been high when I went to bed this morning. The dreams I had certainly couldn’t have been the product of a sober brain. I’m blaming the dreams on the pot fumes… NOT the JohnLock fan fic I read before bed, or the fact that I fell asleep watching Sherlock. Nope. Not at all.
(Suddenly, I’ve been leaning towards Parent!Lock… sweet, established relationship, with none of the smut or fluff. It seems like that’s the closest I can get to my brOPT!Lock sometimes, so I’ve been putting up with it for now.)
Did I just Sherlock a blog entry about Black Mountain Symphony?
I know certain people, if they’re still bothering to read this and continuing to pass judgement on things they don’t understand, will disagree, but damn I have come a long way since my mother died.
It’s not like I had a choice, of course. Life goes on and 21 years is a lot of life to live.
And damn, have I been living.
I giggled maniacally when I got my t-shirt from Firefly Hollow Brewing Company. (My friend is starting a brewery and I donated some cash. NBD.)
I supported a brewery. A place where people make ALCOHOL. The same substance that killed both my parents.
Every day at work, I drink water out of a Magic Hat pint glass. (Magic Hat, of course, makes alcohol. Beer, but whatevs.) I have also worn the snot out of my Magic Hat t-shirts. (God, that was a good trip. Glory days, blah blah blah… Movin’ on.)
The girl who used to hate booze in all forms.
Not only does she display brewery logos willingly she GOES TO BARS.
As J put it so eloquently, “YOU’RE IN A FUCKING BAR!”
I go to bars now.
A lot. Too much.
I’ve logged too much time in bars to still be the girl who hates alcohol with the passion I used to.
I don’t like it. I will never understand why people drink. I will never drink.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t buy a round, or support my friends with their dreams of owning a brewery.
I will spare you from my ridiculous David Tennant / Tenth Doctor obsession to bring you this factoid:
I love the kids in Black Mountain Symphony so much it’s scary. I don’t know why, but they always seem to give me what I need before I even know I need it.
There’s a lot of ugly going on right now… and I don’t know how to stop it. There’s no one else I can communicate my concerns to and it’s wearing on me. A lot. Too much. I didn’t realize that I was that so out of sorts until a really stupid Facebook comment brought tears to my eyes. I totally had no clue that I needed a kind word to set my world right…
I know… for some one who is so hyper-aware of her moods, I can be awfully daft sometimes.
Even though it’s going to be nearly impossible to fit this into my schedule, I’m headed to Woodstock on Saturday to get my fix.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, you know?