Jerkface made me cry!

orion and rollz :: valentine’s, albany, ny :: may 8, 2010

So, when we last saw our heroine, she was deep in a bipolar snit. The likes of which only really happen once a year. (Thank you, Lord!)

It was decided that she would head to beautiful, scenic, friendly, Albany during the final weekend of The Ick for some much needed music therapy and time with friends she doesn’t see nearly enough.

It was exactly what she needed - including the moment she burst into tears because of what Orion said to her. (For the record, Orion’s a st00pid doodiehead… but more on that later.)

Now, back to first person because writing in the third makes me feel like a ‘tard.

I don’t know how I do it and it definitely isn’t something I mean to do, but I get friendly with people in bands. It’s my thing, I guess. It started with Scott-the-Roadie from BiG MiSTAKE and it’s only gotten worse(?) from there. I can’t count instrument, since I knew D from college, so it really started with Soup and Skinny from All Crazy. Then that crazy little circle of friends included Bill and Orion from Black Mountain Symphony. Now it includes Wild Bill from All Crazy and the rest of Black Mountain Symphony. And Larry the Lumberjack from Sound in Stone. (He’s a lumberjack and he’s ok… DUDE! He plays the tuba. He. Plays. The. Tuba. In. A. Rock. Band. ZOMGWTFBBQ!!!!!!!111!)
 
I want to talk about Larry first, even though he’s really a bit player in this drama. (I have a bit of The ADHD tonight. I’m still in a manic phase and I had fencing. Mania + exercise = bad combo for me. Prolly the main reason why I don’t exercise like I should… but I OH! LOOK! A CHICKEN!)

So.

Larry.

After the show, I went outside to find Sound in Stone and see if they had discs. I recognized most of the band members, but when I went over to them, they kind of looked past me. Not Larry. We engaged in a nice chat about the Worcester area and their attempt to get into the Boston scene. He asked me how I discovered Black Mountain Symphony. (Yes, I’m the crazy girl from New Hampshire that drives all over creation to support my favorite bands.) He talked about playing brass instruments and I told him about my tweet where I said it was cool that he carried the bass line on the tuba when the bass player moved to the keyboards. It was good bonding. I gave him $10 for a CD - doin’ my part to support the local scene - and the look on his face was kind of interesting. I don’t think most people pay for their CDs. It’s a demo, granted, and it looks and sounds like a demo, but they still had to pay for the discs, ink, etc. Like I said, I support the scene. Even when it’s bands I don’t know. (Honestly, crappy production value aside, its a good disc. Not as good as their live performance would have lead me to believe, but it’s good. Definitely one of those discs that take a few go ‘rounds on repeat before you really get in the groove, though.)

Compare and contrast: a band named Gone By Daylight opened for All Crazy at their last Hartford show. They reminded me of Fall Out Boy, not necessarily in a good way, but the music was catchy, so I went in search of a disc. I got it from the lead singer’s girlfriend who took my money and shoved a CD at me without saying a word. No “thank you”, no “please sign our mailing list”, nothing. Not even a freakin look my way. Hey, GBD, I loved you live, but I’m so not going out of my way to see you. I’ll save my gas money to see bands that actually APPRECIATE the people who buy their CDs. Got it? (Long story short, guess who’s going to go to another Sound In Stone show at some point?! August. Portland, ME. I’m serious as a heart attack. Bear was very right when he said I’d like them.)

It all comes down to how you treat people - your current fans, your potential fans, and the friends who have been there for you. All three groups are vital to your survival. Larry treated me well. Scott-the-Roadie treated me well. Soup and Skinny treat me very well. And Black Mountain Symphony…

Well, they have a little guy that made me cry.

When I walked into the bar, Bill saw me before I saw any of them and I got a hug tackle. Annie and Rollz came over to talk to me, too. It was so nice that they were as excited to see me as I was to see them. (Although this now makes two or three times Annie has said they’ve been talking about me. Should I be weirded out by this? LOL) I had very nice chats with all three of them, both as a group and individually. It’s nice to walk into a bar and get welcomed so warmly. I hate bars and I’m probably never going to be 100% comfortable in them for any of a dozen reasons, so it’s REALLY nice to get the warm welcome.

After the show, I went to talk to Orion. I thanked him again for the nice things he posted to my Facebook wall. Then we talked about my drive and some other things… the end result was that he made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was REALLY nice to hear such kind things from him. It totally made my night. My weekend. My month. But the end result was that I burst into tears the minute I hit my hotel room. He had been TOO nice, TOO kind, and I’m not used to hearing stuff like that. That’s not to say that Soup and Skinny don’t deliver the high octane warm fuzzies, but this was… different.

So. Yeah. Jerkface made me cry.

Things have changed in my life - drastically - since I took the new job. I definitely have less time to play than I would like, but it will even itself out. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but the meantime, I’m itching to find the time to head back up to Albany.

Even if it means Orion makes me cry again!

Breaking the Silence

black mountain symphony :: lucky dog, worcester, ma :: march 31, 2010

Staring at the floorboards for what seems like an hour. Looking out the window, it’s starting to shower. They say, “It’s all in your head.”
“Grandfather” - Black Mountain Symphony

How I wish it were all in my head!!

I mean, I know it is all in my head… it’s bad brain chemistry, but I wish this was something I could control.

Some days, the meds just don’t work. There’s no fighting biology some times.

And that, my friends, fucking sucks.

Such is the life of someone with bipolar…

I have been having a REALLY. BAD. TIME. lately. Really bad.

Since I’ve started the new job, and finally have an excellent idea of just what I’ve gotten myself into, I’ve really been keeping a tight watch on my cycles. I’m careful to work like mad one weekend and take the next one off. I’m trying to avoid anything and everything that could even come close to stressing me out. (Outside of work stress. There’s no way to escape that yet. Except working weekends…)

Well, all the prep and calendars and med management in the world couldn’t keep me sane during the past few weeks.

I’ve been in the middle of a manic cycle and I just knew my father’s anniversary was going to suck. It wasn’t a self-fulfilling prophecy (as was suggested by someone GRR!), it was just a fact. I knew that it was going to be rough - when the nightmares start, I’m a walking wreck. I’m sorry. That’s just the way it works and I was having the nightmares long before the anniversary. So yeah. Reliving the afternoon I found my father and then ID’ing him in the coffin every night for a week or two is certainly a harbinger of what’s to come.

As if the nightmares and manic cycle weren’t enough, Mother Nature decided that she had another trick up her sleeve: PMS.  Thank you, Mother Nature. Take an already mentally unstable person and screw with her…

Oh yeah, my mother’s birthday is May 3rd. My parents’ wedding anniversary is the 10th and Mother’s Day is the 9th this year.

Recipe. For. Disaster.

I started reaching out to those who knew me before all hell broke loose. I started reaching out to other members of The Dead Parents Club.

Apparently, that was an ingredient in the recipe.

I don’t know why, but EVERYBODY and their mother (ha ha ha) decided they all knew what was best for me. How to beat the bipolar. How to move past the 30th. What kind of clothes I should wear to fencing. What kind of house we should build. What I should do with my hair. Even a well meaning friend added fuel to the fire when they commented on what type of bicycles the hubby and I should get.

I just kept getting so, so, so upset that I went pretty nuclear.

The meds normally keep me from getting to that point, but it was pretty much “abandon hope, all ye who enter here” by then.

I don’t know what to say…

I know who I am. I know what I want…

I am grieving. I am an orphan.

I want my father back.

If anyone has any suggestions on how to bring him back (and not zombie-back, because EWWWW!), then I’m open to your advice.

If not, please keep your opinions to yourself.

I can’t deal with people telling me things that go contrary to what I want or who I am. Not right now, at least. I don’t have the strength to deal with it…

Talk to me next weekend - after The Ick has passed and I have regained my sanity.

 

40 years and 4 dead…

(I’ll be back to the photoblogging shortly. Just not enough time in my day anymore. *sigh*)

My dad always wanted to to visit Kent State. He was obsessed with the shootings there. He planned on going May 1, 2001. He died April 30, 2001.

This is for him:

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We’re finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio.

Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We’re finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio

“Ohio” - Neil Young

(On a side note - I got to see the original handwritten lyrics at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame while Dad was still alive. He was not impressed. WTF?!?)

I see you.

I can see you all over my stats.

Don’t think I don’t know who you are, or why you’re doing it.

Go ahead. Spend hours combing through the archives. I guarantee you you’ll find all you want and more.

I’ve tolerated you and your insecurities long enough.

It. Is. War.

As my dad used to say, we’re playing a game and it’s called “You Lose.”

Your turn.

Scars are souvenirs you never lose.

goo goo dolls :: casino ballroom, hampton beach, nh :: april 14 2010

I saw the Goo Goo Dolls at the Casino on Thursday night. (Obviously!) They were awesome. The energy coming from the stage was intense and the energy coming from the audience was just as intense. The last time I saw them, we were at Great Woods and there was a tweenybopper next to us. Ms. Tween was whining the entire show: “When are they going to play that song? You know, the one from that movie?” I wanted to punch her so badly. I will never understand why people will spend so much money on concert tickets to just hear (in her case) one song. Seriously. She didn’t react to any of the band’s other hits - just “Iris”. That song, from that movie.  *sigh* This crowd was different - EVERYONE was into it. EVERYONE around us knew the words. We sang to each other. We sang to the band. We sang. And it was… orgasmic.  (Well, it was before and after they played “Broadway”. That’s the only one I can’t stand - in a ““Losing My Religion” makes me want to pry my eyeballs out with a spork” type of way. The lyrics just hit too close to home.)

It was general admission, which means standing in the crowd, getting jostled and trying to look around the tall people. I have to say, my years of hopping around to all kinds of all ages shows certainly helped make the night a wicked freaking awesome success and a half. I got the very nice tall, tall guy and his just-as-tall friend to stand behind me instead of in front of me. (There’s a certain way to do it so you don’t come across looking like a douche.) and I was able to get a spot in front of the soundboard. IMHO, that’s where the sound is best. Don’t ask me why - I’m sure there’s a reason, but I discovered it accidentally. From my awesome vantage point, I also got a very good reminder as to why it’s so damn hard to take good concert photos. So many people think all they have to do is point the camera in the general direction and push the button…

It’s not that easy.

For starters, there’s the issue of focus. Performers don’t stay still. Especially performers who have wireless instruments. I couldn’t keep up with Johnny at several points. If I couldn’t, there was no way my camera would be able to. You should find a stationary point about the same distance as the performer, push the shutter down halfway and get the focus to lock. Follow the intended target and snap the picture at any point after the focus locks. 9 times out of 10 it will be pretty decent. They won’t always be crystal clear, but they’ll be clear enough.

Then there’s the flash. YOU. DON’T. NEED. IT.  Turn the damn thing off, or diffuse it. Between your flash and the stage lighting, your pictures will either get washed out or it will look like they’re performing in daylight. I can’t think of a single concert picture I’ve liked where the stage lighting hasn’t been used to the photographer’s advantage. I can’t think of a show, either, where the photogs in the pit have used a flash. I actually got a new camera for my birthday - a Canon S90 specifically since it’s good in low light conditions. So far, I’ve found it to be a little too noisy when I’m taking photos at shows, but as I’m getting better with it, the pictures are getting better. Definitely operator error, so far. I’m starting to come to the conclusion that the better the camera, the harder it is to get good concert shots. I love my Nikon D40, but it’s too damn complicated to bring to a show. My wicked basic, point and shoot, Olympus Stylus 1010 was definitely my go-to camera, but I’m phasing it out in favor of the Canon.

Anyhoo, Johnny came out and performed “Sympathy” acoustically all by his lonesome. Best. Goo Goo Dolls. Concert. Moment. Ever.

I wish for things that I don’t need (All I wanted)
And what I chase won’t set me free (All I wanted)
And I get scared but I’m not crawling on my knees…

Stranger than your sympathy
All these thoughts you stole from me
I’m not sure where I belong
Nowhere’s home and I’m all wrong

It was such an amazing night. It was, without a doubt, one of my top three concerts.

In other news, I’ve decided I’m going to learn how to fence. With a sword! Yes, yes, yes, clumsy, awkward me with sharp metal objects. Someone’s losing an eye or dying. Better make sure my life insurance policy is up to date - J will be bummed if I die an accidental death and he doesn’t get that big fatty check. It’s something I’ve always thought about, but never done anything with. I’m pretty shy when it comes to learning new sports, especially since I’m so uncoordinated. But, I need to lose weight and I don’t want to “exercise” (*shudders*), so I’m looking for something fun to do. We’re also talking about biking, kayaking, and rollerblading. That all sounds like fun, especially since we can do a lot of it in the parks near the water, but I’m really, really excited to play with more pointy sticks. I really think it’s fate - there are 4 fencing clubs where I can take classes within about an hour of where I live.  Wow.

I’m a little amused that I received a very nice “thank you” type message in my Facebook inbox from an unexpected source. It’s not from who I wish it were from, but even if it were from that person, it’s just a little too late. All I’m going to say on the topic is “vagina boob”. Take from that what you will.