SERENDIPITY!........well maybe not

One of my favorite movies to watch around Christmas time is Serendipity starring John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale.  While not technically a Christmas movie, it begins by telling the story of how two people meet trying to buy the same pair of gloves for Christmas.  They spend an enchanted evening together and then separate.  Seven years later they are on a mad search to find each other.  Yes it’s a romantic comedy and yes it’s a chick flick, but without giving away the story, a few of the best parts of the movie have to do with an ice skating rink. 

The second thing accomplished on my “365 til 30” list is Ice Skating around the Christmas Tree in downtown Pittsburgh.  This may sound like a pretty minute accomplishment because many people do it every day, every year, but for me, it was pretty big.  One of the things that really gets me into the Christmas spirit is watching people bundled up skating around a Christmas Tree in December.  Whether it’s the couples holding hands, little kids falling over themselves, or the Christmas songs played while skating round and round, this just does it for me.  The only problem is that at 29-years-old, I’ve never gotten to experience the joy of the Christmas skate. 

Christmas Tree At PPG Downtown Pittsburgh

I have ice skated exactly twice in my life and I remember both experiences well.  The first, when I was about 6-years-old, was during my tenure as a roller skater.  It was 1988, so I’m talking old school roller skates, not blades.  It was winter, I remember it was snowing, and we went to North Park Ice Skating rink.  I was a pretty good roller skater so I remember thinking it would be a breeze, even though my mom warned me it was going to be much different. 

My first slap in the face was when I received my rental skates.  Ugly, brown, used.  I had envisioned pretty white figure skates that would allow me to sore and show off my skills.  Foiled.  When I walked outside to the rink, the second reality hit.  This wasn’t going to be like Shaler Skateland where it’s nice, cozy, and INSIDE.  It was freezing, snowing, and I knew I was going to have to take my twelve layers of clothes off soon, to pee. 

I stepped onto the ice and splat, down I went.  This was going to be a long day.  I remember slowly trying to move along, clutching anything that passed me, all while watching my beautiful cousin Jode in her white figure skates glide by me with her 12-year-old coolness and ease.  I had only made it around maybe once, falling the entire way, when I decided to throw in the towel and give up.  My bruised, frozen, 6-year-old body couldn’t take it anymore.  I’ll stick with roller skating. 

My next ice skating attempt came six years later.  I had been roller blading pretty hardcore for about a year and decided I wanted to start playing hockey.  (Thank you Mighty Ducks!)  I figured that my skills as a roller blader would make me an awesome ice skater.  Wrong again.  I went to Blade Runners with a friend and was once again shafted by the rental skates.  This time I wanted black hockey skates, once again, I get brown rentals.

No matter, my skills will outshine the crap skates I was wearing.  Step on the ice, and then I’m down.  How could this be??  I learned quickly, roller blading is NOTHING like ice-skating.  We go around a few times and after falling and the pain of just trying to stand up exhausted us, we gave up.

So here we are, about 17 or so years later, and all I want to do is go ice-skating around the Christmas tree.  I enlist my friend Maren after our Vatican expedition, to go with me.  We both concede that our endeavor will last around 5 minutes, we will probably have to hold on the entire time, and surely if we make it around once, that will be an accomplishment.

Just walking up to the rink I started to get excited.  I let go of any preconceived notions that I was going to be good and was just thrilled that I was going on the ice around the Christmas tree.  We go to rent out skates, and alas, after 15 years, they have upgraded to blue ice skates.  We held on to each other tightly and stepped onto the ice.  I was afraid to move, but Maren bravely started on her own and into the flow of skaters.  I screamed for her to come help me, but she made me skate to her, and I did!

Me Skating!

Furthermore, I skated!  And well!  I didn’t go fast and I held on to Maren the entire time, but we skated around and around the tree.  And we didn’t fall down once.  I thought my heart was going to explode I was so happy and excited.  And I truly felt like I was in the Christmas spirit. 

The last few years, Christmas hasn’t gone the best for me.  For one reason or another, I have allowed someone or something to ruin it.  This year I was determined not to let that happen.  I was determined to take back Christmas and experience it joyously, the way I had always done in the past.  And you know what?  I did!

I feel sorry for people that say, “I hate this time of year” or, “I can’t wait until it’s over.”  I used to be that way, and it made me sad.  So I changed it, and here I am on Christmas, staring at my beautiful Christmas tree, happy as ever!

Vatican Splendors

The first experience on my “365 days til 30” list, was the Vatican Splendors Exhibit at the Heinz History Center.  In addition to always wanting to go to the Heinz History Center, I’m really into anything and everything that has to do with ancient religion, especially ancient Catholic.

The Exhibit was displayed in only three North American cities, and somehow Pittsburgh made the list.  Perhaps it has something to do with us having the most Catholics per square mile or the fact that St. Anthony’s Chapel (which is, incidentally enough, one block from my house and on the same street) holds the most Catholic relics next to the Vatican.

Whatever the reason, I was immediately intrigued.  I grew up Catholic, went to a Catholic school, went to church twice a week, was involved in all things Catholic, didn’t know people that weren’t Catholic, thought people were sinners if they weren’t Catholic.

Then when I was 11-years-old, I moved.  I started meeting people that were different from me, I started thinking differently, and so like many Catholic teenagers, I left to explore my own spirituality.  I also started getting into the controversial and dark, cool, ancient stuff that is associated with old religions.  And this is really where the Vatican Splendors story begins. 

I didn’t do my research, so I really had no idea what was to be displayed. I just knew it was all from the Vatican, which made my mind naturally go to old, cool, dark, ancient stuff.  I probably should have thought that through a little more.  I also wanted to go before Christmas.  I thought it would be a nice tie into the season as well as help me get a jump-start on my list of things to do.  

So I called my friend Maren who agreed to go with me the Monday before Christmas.  When we entered the museum, there was a lady in front of us that turned around and asked if we needed tickets to the Vatican Exhibit.  We said yes and she explained that she bought one for a friend who never showed and asked me to buy it for $15 (discounted from the regular $20).  I said ok, I didn’t want to leave her hanging.  Maren bought her ticket from the counter and we went to the back to enter. 

When the guy looked at my ticket, he told me it was the audio ticket that was worth $5 and that I still needed to buy the $20 Exhibit ticket!  I couldn’t believe it, conned by a lady at the Vatican Exhibit of all places.  I told them she obviously wasn’t Catholic and that I was going to kick her a** if I saw her in the parking lot.  Although I was clearly joking, they looked scared and gave me a free ticket.  I told them they didn’t have to, but they saw her talking to me and knew I wasn’t lying.  Very cool, kinda funny, but that’s how the Vatican Splendors Exhibit began. 

Maren and I entered and watched the Intro video, nothing too exciting.  Then we went in.  It was pretty much nothing I had imagined.  It truly was an exhibit of art that was taken from the Vatican.  As I began my journey through, I started thinking about it and realized they would probably not put anything controversial or dark in the Vatican, and while it seems pretty obvious now, it didn’t really dawn on me when I was planning it.

 

All art was displayed with both English and Spanish explanations.  The first headline about Peter read, “Pedro No Esta Aqui.”  The silence of the museum was broken when Maren and I busted out laughing at the site of that.  We will never grow up.  The Exhibit was in chronological order beginning with St. Peter’s time and death in Italy.  There was a model of Nero’s Circus and Constantine’s Basilica that was built over it. 

When I tried to take notes, I was ambushed by young people wearing black (and I swear they had secret service thingys in their ears) telling me I was not allowed to use any writing utensils because the Vatican forbids it.  When I asked why, they told me people have defaced the artwork.  I concluded that was a good reason, so decided not to defy them and tried to rely on my photographic memory.  

We moved into the works of Michelangelo (which was definitely my favorite part) and an entire section about the Sistine Chapel.  I am a terrible artist in everyway so to see not only the detailed paintings but also the intricate sculptors that where once just a slab of stone but now looked real, blew me away. 

A series of paintings followed with no familiar artist names, at least to me.  Some of them were pretty cool, others a little boring.  My next favorite part was the section about the mass.  I of course know all of the elements to a mass, but to see what they use at the Vatican, the jewel encrusted chalices, the gold host boxes, the elaborate censers, the thrones, were nothing like we used at St. Athanasius. 

  

The next section or art depicted ministry and traveling.  At first glance, one of my favorite paintings was that of a beautiful Japanese woman surrounded by men.  Then I noticed the man burning at the stake in the background and realized what the painting was about.  Next was a section devoted to portraits and busts of all of the popes throughout history, including a handprint of Pope John Paul II, that we were allowed to touch.

As we exited the exhibit, we entered a gift shop that had anything and everything.  From T-shirts, to ornaments, to books, to rosaries, to jewelry, to yes, even Vatican Splendor shot glasses.  We didn’t buy anything but headed out into the cold for a quick dinner at Primanti Brothers, then off to the second adventure, ice skating at PPG around the Christmas Tree!

Intro to 365

T minus 2 days until my 29^th Birthday.  I’ve been taking this one hard.  I guess its because there is so much if feel like I should have already accomplished and/or experienced by now.  My mom had me when she was 21 so I remember when she turned 30.  I also remember that I could not believe she was so old.  Now I’m at my last year before 30, the last year of my youth (or at least that’s how it feels, although I should have been feeling a bit more grown up a long time ago).  No more excuses at 30.  You can’t say, oh, I’m in my 20s, I’m still figuring things out.  I feel like when you are 30, you have your act together.  I am nowhere near having my act together.  So as this birthday has been approaching and I’ve been feeling more and more depressed about it.  I realized I was going to spend my “last year of my youth” depressed, miserable, and feeling hopeless, unless I took action and did something about it.  So I started to think, what can I do that would really round out this decade to make it feel like not such a complete failure?  Yea I have this blog, and I’m writing a book.  But I’ve had the idea for the blog for a few years and I haven’t been as diligent about it as I should be, or at least diligent enough to ever squeeze a career or even a good reference out of it.  So my mission was twofold, figure out what to do, and figure out ways to stick with it.  Then it came to me.  When I was younger, probably 10 years younger, I started to make this list of all the things I wanted to do in my life.  It wasn’t your typical bucket list like go skydiving and visit the Taj Mahal, it was more things I wanted to learn, accomplish, or just simple things that were sentimental to me and would make me feel.  As I thought about it more, I started to wonder how much I could actually squeeze into one year.  Like if I was completely diligent, focused, and determined, how much could I really accomplish in 365 days.  And thus began the list.  I started writing down things large and small, that I wanted to do and could most likely pull off in one year.  Some of it is simple stuff that I should do like call my grandma everyday, some of it are things that I’ve been putting off like relearn Spanish, and others are a little bit more elaborate like ride a horse in Mexico and get a book published.  Some of the ongoing things, like, take Karate and Sword Fighting, which would be a weekly activity, I will count as one each week because its something I’m building.  Same with the Spanish.  Others will only count as one.  

This isn’t a bucket list and some of it may seem mundane.  But the mission isn’t just about doing these things, its about finding my purpose, proving to myself that I can do it.  As the idea began to unfold, I realized that my blog was a perfect place to chronicle this experience.  I also figured it would force me to write, which is what I want to do anyway!  

I’ve planned my birthday week (yes one week) and filled it with tons of fun, and at a few things from my 365 list.  It began yesterday (my birthday not until Wednesday) with a Steeler Game, always a good time.  Today my roommate and I are doing my birthday dinner at our favorite diner, Ritters, then getting a Christmas Tree and decorating the apartment.  Tuesday I have to work, but will probably do something afterward.  Wednesday is my actual birthday, I have an appointment for a massage, then brunch with mom and gram, then manicure and pedicure (courtesy of gift certificate my grandmother gave me LAST Christmas), then fancy dinner party with friends.  Thursday its birthday dinner with family then off to the Vatican Exhibit at the Heinz History Museum (one of the 365 list items).  Friday I work, but after my roommate and a few friends are going dancing.  Saturday I work, and perhaps I’ll try to get the girls at work to go out for drinks with me.  Then it all begins.  365 days (well at that point a few days in) until I’m 30 and I’ll have to get going.  See you on the other side!

 

 

Untitled I
Swimming against the tide,
the feelings that we hide,
waves of doubt never subside,
til our souls did collide.

As we sit idly by,
in ivory towers built on high,
ours is still to wonder why,
truth remains our hearts we lie.


Untitled II
Beauty unfolds like a rose in bloom,
whilst loves been kept in a back room,
of a heart in silent times,
waiting for my sun to shine.

Thorns cant pierce thy fragrant smell,
so from the heavens she hath fell,
a path now shared once walked alone,
to thy everlasting home.

Sketches from the Backstage Bar by Robinson Gray

"And at the end of the day

I hated sleeping alone
There's nothing worse when you're lost
And you don't want to go home."

Neil Diamond, 2008
"If I Don't See You Again"

PROLOGUE

A perfect summer's night in Pittsburgh. Well, not quite summer; summer still a week away. A perfect nearly summer's night in Pittsburgh. Well, not quite perfect; perfect still awhile away. A nearly perfect, nearly summer's night. In Pittsburgh.

A cloudless sky. A refreshing breeze. Where to? Henry's? Too soon to be back. Sonoma? Too nice to be inside. Seviche? Too crowded. Bossa Nova? Too trendy. Blush? Too frustrating. Backstage Bar? Perfect! Nearly.
Two lost young brunettes linger on the corner of Penn and Seventh. One smiles as I approach. My spirits rise.

"Excuse me, sir," she says. My spirits fall. "Are there any colleges in Pittsburgh?"
"Any in particular, or any at all?"
"Any downtown?"
"Duquesne and Point Park are downtown."
"Where do college students hang out?" asks the other.
"Not downtown."
Unfortunately.
"What's there to do downtown?"
Invite them for a drink! I don't.
"The Arts Festival started this week."

Offer to walk them over! I don't.
They thank me and set out. My eyes follow. Firm asses in tight jeans disappear around the corner. I should have invited them for a drink. I should have offered to walk them over. But I didn't. She called me "sir." But she smiled and they spoke. The start of a perfect night?

I.

Backstage Bar. I secure a vacant table on the outdoor patio. The cusp of Katz Plaza. Bourgeois bronze fountain, granite eye-shaped benches, framed by linden trees. Outdoor jazz concerts on Tuesdays. But it's Wednesday. No jazz tonight. Tonight, classical music wafts from WQED's studio. In a wine mood. A Chardonnay mood. The waiter brings the first.

I glance around, jotting down notes in a moleskin. Late-leaving workers await homebound buses. Early-arriving theater goers await pre-show refreshments. Walkers, skateboarders, bicyclists. Young, old, black, white. Suits and ties. Tattoos and piercings. Everyone reveling in the warm nearly summer's evening in the plaza.

My attention shifts to a stunning woman at a nearby table. Brunette, thirties, sunglasses perched atop her head. White blouse reveals a tempting touch of cleavage. Orange miniskirt bares smooth tan legs. Green sandals display pedicured feet with red nails. She chats with a friend, delicately balancing a glass of white wine between slender fingers, red nails matching her toes. Perfect!
Don't stare, look around. Pigeons and sparrows compete for scraps. A young mother playfully chases a young son. A middle-aged man skims the paper at an adjacent table, a dachshund reclines on a chair by his side. The young son races by, the dachshund barks. He sports a shirt bearing a cartoon frog. The dog, not the boy. That poor dog. The stunning brunette's alluring laugh fills the patio and my soul. I'm falling in love!
My glass is empty.

II.

"What are you reading?" the waiter asks, serving a second.
"A Moveable Feast." If only I could write like Hemingway.


Imagine Tatie and Hadley at La Closerie des Lilas, drinking Rum St. James and laughing and dreaming. Could a Jazz Age nearly summer's evening in Paris, have been as nearly perfect as this? A night like this should be shared. I text Bethany, invite her down. She's doing homework.

I respond, "It's summer! F homework!"
"Hahaha i wish babe!" Bethany replies.
"I guess I'll have to regale another babe 2nite . . . since my #1 girl is doin hw . . ." I respond.
"Im sure you'll survive hahaha!" Bethany responds.
Will I?

The temptress in the white blouse and orange skirt with the red nails is alone now. Here's my chance. I should ask her if she'd like to join me. I don't. She drains her glass. I should offer to buy her another. I don't. And there she goes. I gaze longingly after her as she floats away across the plaza. The girl of my dreams. I should have asked her to join me. I should have offered to buy her a drink. But I didn't. And now it's too late. A car pulls up alongside her. A friend? A husband? A lover? She climbs in, rides out of my life forever. She's gone. And so is my wine.

III.

Two already. How many more? Not sure. But first, a third. I call Max. We relive Henry's on Monday with Lisa. Blond and sexy and twenty-one. Into musicians and hockey players. Writers? Probably not so much.

"I'm not cool enough for your crowd," I explain to Max.
"You're cool enough. You're artistic, you're creative."
Maybe I could artistically create a girl who'd be interested in me.
"What about Bethany?" he asks.
"She never returned my call."
"The other Bethany."
"She's with Kurt now."
"You should have asked her out."
I didn't.
He suggests the craigslist personals. Where people barter used and unwanted goods? I'm skeptical. He urges me to try. I'll think about it. Another empty glass.

IV.

I should have eaten something. Three glasses on an empty stomach. Starting to feel it. The waiter delivers a fourth. A man passes by, stops and introduces himself. Asks if we met at a party once. We didn't. He goes inside.

Still drinking. Still reading. I glance up, my heart leaps. A new girl of my dreams has appeared at the same table in the same chair as the last lost girl of my dreams. Multicolored sundress, brown and green and yellow and white. Short, exposing long silky legs; strapless, exposing smooth bare shoulders, a tantalizing hint of her breasts. Gold bands around her wrists. Gold sandals around her feet. She draws a glass of beer to her soft lips, then brushes her long black hair from her heavenly face. I am so in love!

She drinks with a woman in white. A friend? A sister? A lover? She smiles easily, she laughs enchantingly. Mesmerized, my gaze transfixed. I want to meet her, talk to her, love her. A gust of wind rustles her dress, she uncrosses then re-crosses her legs. She's perfect! A perfect night! I'm out of wine.

V.

Sitting. Reading. Writing. Drinking. Is this my fifth? Mind darting hither and thither. If only I could write like Joyce. Thoughts drift to Alaska. Was I even there? Nothing but a memory now. Or was it a dream? Is life a dream? Is life real? What is real? Nobody knows. Let's drink.

The enchantress in the sundress just glanced over here. Or did she? She may have. Is my mind playing tricks on me? She did it again! I think. Maybe. She runs her hand through her hair. Has she noticed? I should talk to her. Maybe she wants me to talk to her. Could the same thoughts consume her? I definitely should talk to her. What do I say? I'm a writer, for Christ's sake! Write a goddamn line!
I'm blocked.
* * *
Evening running short. Her glass nearly empty. As is mine. Soon she'll be gone. I'll never see her again, her beauty a memory, quickly and irrevocably dimming. Take a mental picture, burn her visage in my mind. Something to hold on to. Remember every detail. Her face. Her hair. Her shoulders. Her legs. Her breasts.

Who is she? Where is she from? Where is she going? Why is she here? Is she as lonely as I am? I'll never know. On her cell, she giggles. Who is it? A friend? A husband? A lover? She hangs up. Talk to me! Laugh with me! I want to hear her story and fall in love with her and kiss her under the stars and hold onto her all night and wake up next to her. Then do it all over again.
She's paying her check. This is it. Soon it all will be over. I'm in love and my heart is about to break. She's getting up. Say something! Anything! I don't.

She's leaving. "O! Lost!" If only I could write like Wolfe.
And now she's gone and my heart is broken and I'm all alone. With an empty glass.

VI.

"Enough fresh air?" Charles the bartender asks.
"All the hot girls left," I mutter.
"No more eye candy. Just the homeless."
Indeed.

I quaff a sixth then survey the situation inside. A few possibilities. There's one in red. She's with a small girl in a gown and a paper crown, dancing and swaying and spinning to the music. Damn, she's with a guy too. Is that the dude who introduced himself outside? Was his name Tony? I don't remember. What a great song. Is this REM?

There's another in black. Another perfect pair of long tan legs. Short, reddish brown hair, a part runs diagonally from right to left. She belongs in Paris. Zelda? If only I could write like Fitzgerald. She chats with a blonde in blue.
Just one. The one in red or the one in black or the one in blue. Just one girl. That's all I want. Is that too much to ask? One girl to kiss under the stars. One girl to wrap her long tan legs around me. Just one. Head spinning. "I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you. . . . ? Who sings this song?

I finish my drink then stumble outside. There's the one in red and the dude who thought he knew me and the little girl in the gown and the crown. Basking in the warm evening under the nearly summer stars. The little girl still dancing, still swaying, still spinning. Her whole life ahead of her. Mine half behind. Drunk now. Time to go home. Alone.
* * *
I weave through the nearly deserted plaza. Giant granite eye-benches stare at me. Unblinking. Unsettling. I cross Seventh. Here is where the temptress in the white blouse and orange miniskirt with red nails, the girl of my dreams, climbed into a car and out of my life. And over here is where I caught a last glimpse of the enchantress in the sundress and gold bands and gold sandals, the love of my life, now faded into mere memory. And over there is where the evening started, the two young lost brunettes, firm asses in tight jeans, now existing solely in my past. I'll never see any of them again. I'll never hear their stories. I'll never even know their names.

I stagger down Penn in a haze. So many nights I've trodden this street drunk and alone back to my sad empty apartment ten stories above the tracks. Nights beginning with so much promise, ending in so much despair. Henry's nights. Sonoma nights. Seviche nights. Backstage Bar nights.

The night of Bob's birthday. Me and Max and Bob. Sam and Bridget. Don and Kurt. Jenna and Ruby. And Bethany. The night I met Bethany. The night Bethany met Kurt. Beer and wine and martinis. Henry's and Seviche and Bossa Nova. Back to Seviche, rolling down Penn in a wave, six or ten or twelve of us, laughing and shouting, and life was good. Then Ruby's boyfriend threatened to bury her and the men took it outside. But I stayed in and kept drinking with Ruby and Bridget. And Bethany.

Then back to my apartment. Max and Ruby, Bob and Bethany, Sam and Bridget. And me. We blasted Zeppelin and pounded vodka and Ruby announced she was done with men, she was going to be a lesbian and that was the greatest thing I'd ever heard. A perfect night! Until everyone paired off and I was odd man out and was left to gaze out the window, isolated in my own place with six others. And then I just couldn't take it anymore and threw everyone out and went to bed alone, bitter and distraught, at 4:30 in the morning. But until then it was a perfect night. A Kerouac night. If only I could write like Kerouac.

VII.

Do I have to go home? Glassy eyes peer through Seviche's window. Don or Kurt here? No. But that's Mandy working the bar. Mandy's so hot. Only 21. Long brown hair, haunting brown eyes. And those breasts. Perfect. Just one more. I slouch at the bar for a seventh. Mandy remembers me from the night I drank here with Kurt. Bethany's Kurt. We talked 'shrooms and Timothy Leary and Slash and the Crue.

I look around. The Bucs are on, ahead in the 8th. Another bartender mixes mojitos. Don't know her name. Gorgeous. Face of a Greek goddess, body of a Maxim model, long hair drawn back in a ponytail. I've seen her before. Where? Henry's? Sonoma? I don't know. God, just one girl.

Mind reeling, thoughts scattering. Why him? He's not right for her. Where's Heather? Come on, Freddy! Dammit, popped out. Noki in Ketchikan. Two weeks ago already? Anne. Married. Lesley. Boyfriend. Miss Samantha. Christina. Taylor. Whatever happened to Taylor? "You're so great!" They all say so. Then why am I alone? Double play, Bucs win!

Giovanni brags about his new album. Rock, not jazz. I wish I were as cool as Giovanni. I wish my name were Giovanni. Then I couldn't help but be cool.

"Hey, Mandy, where's Heather?"
"She's right there." She points to the Greek goddess/Maxim model.
"Not her. The other Heather."
"She's the only Heather we have."

She is? So confused. Maybe I should ask for Maria. Tell her Elliott is looking for her. Is this Keane? I love this song. Two Heathers at Seviche. And Heather at Sonoma. So many Heathers. And all so hot. There are no unattractive Heathers.

Another empty glass. Feeling dizzy. Not meeting anyone tonight. Time to go home. Don't want to. But it's time. Time to go to bed. Alone. Again. I should text Bethany.

"@ Seviche now. Got drunk 2nite and wrote essay."
"Kurt & I will probably be at seviche fri night."
"That does me no good. Read my essay. U'll c."
"Ok, send me a copy."
"When I finish. Goin home alone now. I hate bein alone."
"I love being alone. Im alone now and loving it."
"Don't ever wish 4 loneliness. There is nothing worse."
"I love it. Always have."
"That's because u've never really been alone."
* * *
One last drop of Chard. One last glance at Mandy. One last glance at the new Heather. One last glance around Seviche for one last girl. Just one. Someone, anyone, to smile at me and talk to me and laugh with me and keep me from going home alone to a desolate apartment and an empty bed.
Then into the dark, lonesome, not quite summer, far from perfect Pittsburgh night.

EPILOGUE

Home. Hammered. So tired. Collapse into bed. Alone. Again.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will be the night. The girl of my dreams. The perfect girl. The perfect night. She'll smile at me and I'll come up with the perfect line. I'll ask her to join me and I'll buy her a drink. She'll tell me her story and we'll talk and laugh and fall in love and kiss under the stars. She'll wrap her legs around me and I'll hold onto her all night and wake up next to her. Then do it all over again. No more loneliness.
Tomorrow. It has to be tomorrow.
A perfect summer's night. In Pittsburgh.

Begin the Begin

To Blog or not to Blog.  Since I’m pretty sure no one has found my Blog yet, I choose, TO BLOG!  What is this Blog about?  It’s about Life.  It’s about how we are supposed to live our lives, rather than how we are actually living it.  That sounds confusing even to me and I’m writing this. 

I was miserable for a very very very long time and I didn’t know why.  I couldn’t understand how people could just be happy.  It seemed like such a difficult feat.  It all started back in high school.  I went through all of the motions I was supposed to, got up, went to school, came home, did fun stuff, but I was miserable.  There were other things at play, low self-esteem, body image issues, blah blah blah, but I just didn’t know how to be different, to be happy.  

I graduated from high school, went to college, got an 8-5 job.  Even more miserable.  Got a therapist, went to Grad school for something different, got a job, STILL MISERABLE.  I knew even as I was going through it that my misery was pathetic, but I still didn’t get it.  Everyone else my age was seemingly happy and I did all of the same things as them, but still, I wasn’t happy.

Then I watched, “The Secret.”  I know it has now become a cliché, but something resonated with me.  I started to see that not realizing, and really repressing my own wants and desires (because they tended to be untraditional) was the entire reason I was unhappy.  For the first time I had hope. 

Unfortunately just knowing this fact didn’t make it all better, I had a lot of work to do.  So here I am, working on it, but living a rather unconventional life (in other people’s opinion) and I’m happier than ever.  I still have a ways to go, and issues still pop up, such as my 10-year high school reunion in 2 weeks, or waiting on a girl I went to high school with, and her attractive husband knowing full well she has a great job and is cruising through her life with ease.  But I’m ok, and I know that if I had her job, or were married for that matter, I wouldn’t be happy.  I know that working on myself is the most important thing because having a deeper understanding of me, is what I’ve always wanted. 

I want to write, and at the moment this is the only way I can see myself happily doing it so I better figure out how to make money at it.  But for now, as my eyes are the only ones reading this, opening up about these difficult facts about myself allow me to clean the slate.  Nothing about my former misery matters anymore because I’m not miserable now. 

The stories posted before this were on my website.  I moved it over to here because I felt a blog was more appropriate.  So this new blog is about the journey through life and finding happiness.  And something that has helped me is reading other people’s stories on how to live life to the fullest, which is what I try to now do, and will share with all of you, when you get here.

Halloween Wrap Up 2010

Every year the impending Halloween Holiday gets me excited. I start thinking about last year and how much better this year is going to be. The last few years have been a bust, Last year I went to a really boring party and ended up leaving early. The year before that I had to work. The year before that however, Halloween 2007, was my first fun Halloween in a long long time. Amanda and I dressed up like hoochies, went to Station Square and partied the night away. It was so much fun. And I realized it was the last time I really had fun on Halloween. This year I thought was going to take the cake.

Maren was in the car with me one day and mentioned she should be Courtney Love for Halloween, I said, hey, I'll be Shirley Manson (of the band Garbage) and Nicole decided to be Gwen Stefani. We were going to be 90s rock star chicks!

Buzz Poets were playing that night so I mentioned we should go, everyone agreed, so that was the plan.

Unfortunately they no longer make easy costumes that you can just buy for these particular characters, so we had to make this stuff from scratch.

We initially met at the Halloween costume store to purchase our wigs and fishnet stalkings. Then we went to Good Will to buy the balk of Nicole's Costume, and the dress for mine. We walked over to Joann Fabrics to get the Blue Dye to color my dress.

We headed up to the mall to get the finishing touches, mesh shirt for Nicole, makeup and red spray paint for my wig. Then to Macy's for Maren's slip dress. We had a few bumps in the road along the way but we handled them perfectly.

It was all coming together, everyone was excited and practically counting down the moments to our rock star debut.

First encounter with negative energy, interacting with my roommate who was just being miserable. Then it was time to get ready, must banish roommates negative energy. Maren and I got ready together and Nicole got ready on her own. I had invited some other people to come to the show. Gary and AJ were thinking about coming but they flaked out, two down, two more bummers.

When I went to pick up Nicole I knew something was up. She didn't seem to want to leave this house party (that I didn't even know about until the day before and thought it was an "if you get out early you should stop by," kind of party.)

We went to get some food and headed down to the show, no one but me showing any real excitement. I was wondering where it had all gone too. When we arrived I was hoping all of the great energy that everyone else was projecting at the concert would register on my friends. I mentioned drinks to everyone, I got a no. I had a cocktail, they drank water.

The show starts, I'm dancing, excited to be here again, great energy, and I turned around and my friends aren't even there, they are sitting. They finally came over to stand and pouted, not moving, not having a good time. I finally said lets go and drove them home.

The entire night was completely ruined. And I wonder, do they even know or care that they ruined my night? A night that I had been looking forward to (as they seemingly did too), my favorite holiday of the year, and no one cared. Maybe it seems like a spoiled thing to say, but I guarantee if something was this important to my friends, I would have never behaved this way.

So with this I have learned yet another lesson. Be clear on your own intentions about when you want something and others don't seem to. Its ok, don't settle, just do your own thing, and maybe you'll find a new friend that will be on the same page as you.

And I don't mean to write off your old friends, they are the glue that helps you stay who you are. But if it looks like they are going to be a total drag, maybe do something else with them, and celebrate my favorite holiday with people that are more like me.

After the disappointment of last evening AND the disappointment of the Scarehouse (the haunted house just wasn't as good as last year), I would say this year once again has been a bust. Although I am hearing children trick or treating and maybe after getting into the spirit with them for a while, then watching a little Hocus Pocus and Monster House, this year might just be salvageable.

*Photo is of us dressed up and the real inspiration behind the costumes

At least our costumes were noticed, click below.

Buzz Poets Concert

A Collective Soul Story

We used to talk about music in 6th grade Art Class. I had always loved music, but my obsession really began to culminate around the age of 12. The year was 1994 and grunge had been flying high as the popular music genre of the time. This kid in my class, Steve, positioned himself as the king of rock music, the knower of all things. I, who was pretty well versed in music myself, would try to appeal to his rock kingness, by bringing up bands in class, hoping to look like a rock goddess myself.

Around the month of March, there was a song I kept hearing on rock radio, but could never remember the name of the band to impress my classmates with. The band was Collective Soul. As I heard the song more, and saw the music video and how attractive all of the band members were, they instantaneously became my favorite band and I've been loving them ever since.

That school year, the 6th grade, was my first year at Dorseyville Middle School. I had moved away from the neighborhood I had always known, to a new area, new school, new people, and lots of them. I am an only child of a single mother. We never had a lot of money growing up, but we always had our music. My new school however, was immersed with the wealthiest of the wealthy, and I definitely had a hard time fitting in. That is why I believe I became so in love with music. It understood me and it made me feel like I was a part of something.

That summer, I found out that Collective Soul was opening up for Aerosmith (my mom's favorite band that she never missed in concert). She decided to take my godmother (as always) instead, and I was forced to sit at home and sulk, aching to see Collective Soul live.

I spent the next year (now into 7th grade) obsessing about my favorite band, Collective Soul, and loving every minute of it. One day in the spring of 1995, I was in the grocery store looking at a magazine, and oh my god there it was, a small photo of Collective Soul. I begged my mom to buy me the magazine, but there wasn't a lot of extra money for those things, especially for just one small photo, so I had to part with the first glimpse (since the music video and CD) that I had of them.

The next day, or maybe it was a few days later, I was walking back from science class and I glanced to my right and there it was, that same photo from the magazine hanging in some girl's locker. I ran over and started screaming/hyperventilating saying that they were my favorite band. Nicole smiled and said they were her favorite too, and there were others like us in our very school.

I eventually met these other fans, Maren and Kyra, and while I wasn't friends with all of them yet, we would spend our downtime at school obsessing about this great band. When the second album came out, we gathered around lunchroom table to stare at the pictures in the CD book.

One of the girls, Maren, ended up on my softball team that year, and as she was good friends with Nicole, she would often bring her to games and practices so that we could continue our conversations about our favorite songs and band members.

One spring evening, I arrived at Aspinwall field for a softball game and saw Nicole frantically running toward me. She told me, very excitedly and very out of breath, that Collective Soul was coming to town that summer, July 2nd, 1995. I turned to my mother and begged her to go get tickets immediately, which she did (perhaps still feeling guilty from not taking me last time), and I spent the next few months anticipating their arrival.

The night before the show I remember laying in bed looking up my two magazine photos of the band that were hanging on my wall and thought, oh my god, they are going to be right in front of me tomorrow. I then grabbed my small purple and green pillow and screamed into it as loud as I could.

The day of the show was a whirlwind of nerves, I couldn't eat, I couldn't stop looking at the clock, and I kept begging my mom to let us go early. She was the dear soul who was taking me, Nicole, Maren, and Kyra, four 13-year-old girls, to this concert.

I remember when the time came to leave, I asked my mom how she thought I looked and she said, "You look so good they are going to pull you up on stage." Little did I know what the rest of the night would have in store for me.

We picked everyone up and arrived at Metro Pol, a small club in Pittsburgh's Strip District. My heart almost broke when I saw that a line had already formed. I knew we should have gotten there earlier.

A woman got in line behind us, and I, being the chatterbox that I am, struck up a conversation with her, only to learn that she not only knew the band, but also ran their fan club. Her name was Diane and we harassed her with band questions that she was so kind to answer.

When the doors finally opened we ran to the front of the stage and ended up on the far left side (where the guitar player Ross would eventually stand). Diane followed us in and continued talking to my mom as we waited for the show to begin.

The opening band was great, but I just couldn't wait any longer for Collective Soul to come on stage. Then all of a sudden, the lights went down and the stage started to fill with smoke. It was almost time. I remember the anticipation filling my stomach. I couldn't believe it, this band, my favorite band, was coming.

When I saw them walking onto the stage I just remember my friends and I screaming hysterically. From the first song to the last, we sang every word at the top of our lungs. I even saw Ed, the lead singer, look over and wave to our new friend Diane. At that point, that was as cool as it got.

Eventually I knew the show was winding down, I also had noticed that Ed kept looking over at Diane. So during one of the last songs I stepped onto this tiny ledge next to me so I could get just an inch higher, I waited for Ed to look over and I screamed, "I LOVE YOU!" And by some miracle he saw me and blew me a kiss. My friends looked at me with disbelief, and then it happened.

The guitar solo started and Ed came over to our side. We all put our hands up and he grabbed mine and started pulling. My mom was pushing me up and before I knew it, I was walking over to the microphone with Ed from Collective Soul. I remember him pointing the mic at me and me starting to move my lips to the words of the song, although I don't remember any sound coming out of my mouth.

The lights were shining in my eyes and I was so shocked that I didn't quite realize what was going on. Then I looked over to my friends and saw Nicole screaming hysterically and I knew, I was on stage, just as my mom had predicted just a few hours before.

At that moment I ran over to Ed and hugged him with no intentions of ever letting go. That forever turned into a mere moment and I walked over and jumped off stage into the arms of my crying friends. As I turned back around Ed blew me one more farewell kiss and left the stage. A few moments later the drum tech walked over and handed me the signed drumsticks. At that moment I was the happiest 13-year-old girl alive.

People stared at me when we were leaving, I could hear them whispering, "That's the girl that got pulled up onstage!..Oh my god, she has the drumsticks!"

As we drove home I looked at my friends and my heart filled up with love, joy, and gratitude. I knew at that very moment there was nothing that would ever top that night. It was, and still is, the greatest moment of my life.

II.

After getting pulled up on stage at the Collective Soul Concert, I wasn't sure anything could top it. Fortunately for us, Diane, the lady who spoke to us at the show, gave my mom her contact info so that we could stay in touch. Throughout the summer of 1995, she traveled with the band whenever she could, and was so kind to always send us guitar pics and photos and keep us up to date on where the band was in the world.

For a bunch of 13-year-old girls, that was a pretty big deal. The remainder of our summer vacation was spent on Nicole's front porch blaring either, 'Hints Allegations and Things Left Unsaid' or 'Self Titled', as they were the only two albums out at the time. Sometimes we would retreat to the living room to watch the few Collective Soul things we had recorded off of MTV or VH1 (back when they played music).

As the summer began to wind down, I started to realize that at long last, I finally had friends again, the way that I used to before I moved to Fox Chapel. When I started there, I struggled to fit in, which didn't work, but when I decided to just be myself, my friends came, and they were just like me. And at that moment, I knew they would be my friends for life.

The 8th grade school year began, but the only thing I had on my mind was if and when I would see Collective Soul again. Or any band for that matter. I had gotten the concert itch and I was ready to go. And I did! But back to Collective Soul.

Sometime in October of 1995 I received a phone call from Diane who told me that Collective Soul was going to be in Philadelphia in November (Where Diane lived!) and she wanted to know if my mother and I would like to come to the show and (OMG!) meet the band after.

My 13-year-old heart nearly stopped, and combined with tears and hysteria, I called my mom at work and begged her to take me. She said yes! Holy crap, I'm going to Philly to meet Collective Soul!

My friends were of course jealous, and I wished more than anything that I could take them with me, but alas, it was just mom and I.

It was a cold November morning when we left for Philadelphia. I remember being decked out in a Collective Soul T-shirt and Collective Soul Hat. I was cool.

We arrived in Philadelphia sometime in the late afternoon. As we drove in I remember thinking to myself, "Wow, wouldn't it be awesome if the band was staying at the same hotel as us."

We checked our luggage, and were led up to our room. Mom and I decided a nap would be best before the show. After, we showered, got ready, and met Diane in the lobby restaurant for dinner. The first thing she said was, "I just found out the band is staying in this hotel." I knew it!

We took a taxi over to the Electric Factory, the name of the club, and the wonderful Wanderlust opened the show to their hometown crowd. Awesome.

Then it was time again for Collective Soul!

Amazing show as always, I only wished that my friends were there to sing and dance with me, but I still had a great time.

After, it was time to line up to go backstage, oh my god, this is really happening.

Will Turpin came out first, such a kind person. I was in tears, but he talked to us and put his arm around me to take a picture. There was a line of people waiting but since he knew Diane, he just took Diane, my mom, and me backstage. As I turned the corner, there was Ross Childress clad in his burgundy corduroy pants and leather jacket. I shook his hand, I was shaking.

Then there was Shane Evans, I swear I always take the best photos with Shane.

And then there was Ed Roland. Super nice, super attentive. I was the only kid backstage, but everyone was so nice to me. Ed chatted with Mom and I, then decided he wanted to play basketball on the machine. My mom, being the big mouth that she is, screamed, "My daughter plays basketball!!!" So there I was, playing basketball, with the lead singer of my favorite band in the whole world.

After that thrill, Will Turpin returned to us. By far the friendliest and most outgoing of the band, he spoke about missing his sister at home who was about my age. He talked about family and just normal stuff that you don't really expect from a rockstar.

At one point I asked Will where Dean Roland was, as he is my favorite. Will said he was down at the tour bus, but that he would take us there. So mom and I braved the November frigidity to wait for my darling Dean Roland.

He walked off of the bus, I think I am going to faint. He came over to me to take the photo. I had left my coat inside so as not to ruin a photo opportunity. As my mom stumbled with the camera Dean put his arm around me and said, "Its ok, we'll just stand here and keep each other warm."

I don't recall my reaction to that comment, but everyone around us laughed so it couldn't have been good!

After that, I snapped a few more photos, and then it was time to bid our goodbyes and head back to the hotel.

When we arrived, I changed into my coolest Mini Mouse pajamas, and while my mom went to the front desk for something, I lodged one of my shoes in the door so I could visit to the pop machine before bed.

When I looked up, Dean Roland was walking down the hall. He said, "Hey! Is this your room?" I said yes, and he said, "Wow, this is my room," and he put his key into the door across the hall. I was staying across the hall from my Dean the ENTIRE TIME!

A few moments later, there was a knock at my door. It was my mom, standing next to Will Turpin. I stood there shocked. He told us that he and his wife were right next to us and that the rest of the band were in the surrounding rooms.

In other words, we were right in the middle, surrounded by all of Collective Soul.

I didn't sleep much that night, I was wound way too tight with excitement. Mom and I headed back to Pittsburgh the next morning with a definite adventure under our belt, one that I couldn't wait to tell my friends all about!

III.

After meeting my favorite band in the entire world, there was no going back, I was in Collective Soul La La Land for the next several years. The first thing I did when I got home was call each of my friends and give them a detailed account of my experience. They were excited and jealous and as happy as I was, I couldn't wait until they got to meet the band too. Everyone at school knew I went so everyone was clamoring over my photos and my awesome story.

That following March, Diane came back to Pittsburgh to join us for a Red Hot Chili Peppers Concert. With her, she brought all of her Collective Soul videos, live performances, etc. I spent hours with two VCRs hooked together to copy the VHS's (oh the good old days). That was unfortunately the last time we saw Diane. We kept in touch here and there but eventually lost touch completely. I found her on MySpace a few years ago but that too, fell by the wayside.

About a year later in 1997, their third album, "Disciplined Breakdown" came out. "Precious Declaration" was the first single and of course we were obsessed immediately, singing it at the top of our lungs wherever we went. A few months later it was announced they would be returning to Metro Pol, the club where the magic began. Diane was supposed to come to the show but fell ill and couldn't make it. We were all kind of counting on her to get us to meet the band so when she canceled, we had to come up with an alternate plan. Metro Pol was in an old area that looked like warehouses stacked against each other. We realized that the loading dock for the band was in the front, and that was the only way into the club. Our Plan: Block the entrance, they can't avoid us.

We talked my mom into dropping us off at the club around noon, the show not starting until around 7 P.M. We, of course, were the first people there, and took pictures and goofed off. The roadies and promotional people arrived at some point and were intrigued as to why a bunch of 15-year-old girls were already waiting at the front door.

A small group formed a few hours before the show began, before the band got there, and we were kind of disappointed we wouldn't get the band all to ourselves. When we saw the big red tour bus coming down the road, the excitement welled up in us all. Finally, they were here. We attacked as soon as they walked off the bus. I told Ed about him pulling me up on stage here in Pittsburgh, then playing basketball with me in Philadelphia. He seemed excited, and I was even more excited. My friends were elated to meet them as well, and I was happy we got to experience it together. The show was fantastic, the four of us (the same four as two years prior) lined up in the front row, dancing and doing our silly moves to each song. After the show we waited to talk to them again, then we headed home with another awesome Collective Soul show under our belt.

Two years later, the album "Dosage" came out. At that point Maren and I weren't hanging out with Nicole and Kyra as much, so it was just she and I that set out to buy the album the day it was released. It was 1999, I was 17 and driving, so I picked her up after school and we went to the record store. We put it on the Disc Man we had attached to the cassette player in the car, and "Tremble For My Beloved" started. We were immediately freaking out, it was clearly one of the best songs ever (and when it started playing in the parking lot scene during the movie "Twilight" a few years ago, I was nearly peeing my pants at the theater!). To this day "Dosage"is in my opinion, their best album.

That year they played at St. Vincent's College, with The Marvelous 3 (who Maren and I would eventually follow around for a bit after high school, but that's another story). My mom, Maren and I met up with Toni, a girl we had met at a Candlebox concert a few months before, who loved Collective Soul as much as we did. At one point they started playing a song and I realized it was, "Wasting Time," my favorite song of all time. I started screaming hysterically, only to the amusement and horror of the security guards who were college students. It was the first and only time I've ever gotten to see that song preformed live.

As the show went on, my mom and I spotted a roadie that we had met with Diane back in 1995, we started talking to him and he gave us backstage passes. We were going to get to meet the band again! This time we took Toni with us, who kept saying it was the greatest day of her life.

Two months later they were set to play a radio station concert festival, the tickets were pricier than we were used to, but Maren and I were determined to get front row. When I went to get the tickets, I was paying for one with cash, and one with credit, and they couldn't give us seats together. I was so distraught that after I got our tickets, I was backing out of the parking lot, not looking, and backed right in to another car. My first and only car accident, and it was caused by the fear of not getting to see Collective Soul.

We were able to stand together anyway, so the accident was for nothing, and we saw Nicole at the show, which was nice too.

After that we entered our senior year, graduated, and I got a job at a local record store. The year was 2000 and "Blender" came out. Not my favorite album, but it was going to take a lot to out shine "Dosage." We found out there was a show in December featuring the Marvelous 3 (who we had already begun taking road trips for) and Collective Soul. Maren, Toni, and I, decided to go.

We spent the eight-hour road trip to South Carolina trying to figure out how we were going to get backstage and hang out with the bands. None of us were "groupies" so to speak, so we were going to have to be clever.

We used our age-old plan of showing up early to try and scope the place out and maybe get a glimpse of some early arriving bands. We saw that once again, there was only one entrance to the backstage/tour bus area, and there was only one guard. He was our guy. Toni went and held us a place in line and Maren and I went to try to weasel our way backstage.

We started up a conversation with the guard, asking him what time the doors opened (even though we already knew). Then we started discussing the weather and other varies topics of no importance (I have an innate ability to talk forever about nothing haha). We befriended the guard, never revealing our real plan of trying to get backstage. We were just two out of towners, passing the time. A young guy named Kenny came over at one point and asked us all where to buy tickets. We happened to have an extra one so we gave it to him. He was on his own so ended up just hanging out with us, he became our new friend.

Eventually a photographer with an All Access Pass came to go backstage. I jokingly said we were with him, the photographer took a liking to me, and we convinced the guard to let us all go in with him. He let us pass!

We walked passed a slew of tour busses and came to the back entrance, it was a woman checking for passes, we were done. The photographer went in and we just hung around the busses waiting. We saw Lifehouse, who was not popular yet, come out. I asked them to play a song and they were shocked I even knew who they were. It was time for the front doors to open and we conceded that we would have to go that way. We got to go to the front of the line however, because Toni had saved us a spot!

The show started and I found the photographer again. He was getting ready to leave, having only come to shoot the local band that was playing. He gave me his All Access Pass and I was going backstage again! I went up on the side of the stage to watch Marvelous 3. I turned around at one point and saw one of the roadies that had talked to us out front of Metro Pol, three years prior. I went over and told him how I knew him and he gave me backstage passes for Toni, Maren, and Kenny too. We some how managed to score passes in a place where we knew no one. Our egos were flying high.

Throughout the night we met so many people, I can't even remember how, but by the end of the night, we were getting invited to every after party in the area. I believe we said yes to all of them, but decided it would be best to head back to the hotel to get some rest before our road trip home the next day. I didn't get to hang out with Collective Soul that time, but while I was watching Marvelous 3 on the side of the stage, Dean, the rhythm guitar player and Shane the drummer, stood right next to me during the performance. I, of course, was having a silent heart attack with them so close but they didn't seem to notice, which was good!

The trip home was long, but we felt satisfied at our success getting backstage, and the best part? Another awesome Collective Soul story!

That following May, Maren, Toni, and I decided to take another road trip to Cleveland to see Collective Soul. This would be the last time we see them for 5 years. In that time, Ross the guitar player, and Shane the drummer left the band; Maren moved to Chicago; I attended and finished college; we saw less of Toni, even lesser of Nicole, and lost touch with Kyra altogether. The crew had dissolved and life wasn't as great as it used to be. I still contacted everyone to wish them a Happy Collective Soul Day every July 2nd to commemorate our first show together, but it definitely wasn't the same.

In 2004, with a new guitar player and new drummer, Collective Soul released "Youth," an album I hated at first, but now love so much I can't imagine it not existing. Two years later, they were playing in Chicago and Maren insisted I come out for the show. It was about 900 degrees at the Chicago Zoo, but there they were, Collective Soul (with 2 new faces which was definitely hard to embrace at first) my favorite band, once again!

Summer of 2007, Collective Soul toured with Live and Counting Crows, bands that I have loved forever, I was so excited about the line up. I called Nicole who at that point, I hadn't seen in a few years, to see if she wanted to go with me. She said yes and her, my mom, my godmother, and myself headed off to the show. Of course it was amazing, Nicole was my first Collective Soul friend so reconnecting with her was great, the band brought us together again and we haven't been apart since. Nicole even took off her tank top (she had another shirt over top!) and we wrote, "Play Breathe!" in lipstick on it. They didn't play it but it was a perfect example of the ridiculousness this band has always driven us to.

April of 2008, I found out that Collective Soul was playing in Cleveland, only a two-hour drive, in support of their album, "Afterwords." Nicole and I decided to road trip it to my 10th Collective Soul Concert! We had dinner, wine, got drunk, had a blast. It was during that time that I was feeling some heartache for a boy, it had been some time but I couldn't get over it.

At one point during the concert I was jumping up and down screaming and singing my head off. All of a sudden this wave of clarity washed over me and I stopped and realized that this is who I am. I'm the girl who still goes out of my mind for this band, I feel amazing, and if someone else has a problem with it, then its their problem, and at that moment, I was over the boy.

A few months later Collective Soul played Skyblast, a concert accompanied by fireworks, at the end of the Pirates baseball game. Once again Nicole and I had some wine, got a little drunk, and sat with my mom in her company seats. We missed the game, showing up only to see the band at the end, and while everyone else sat to enjoy the show, Nicole and I stood, singing and dancing as always, and embarrassing my mother in front of her colleagues.

The following summer I found out Collective Soul was once again playing Cleveland. I was getting over a break up, feeling guilty about calling the relationship off, and once again being at the show with Nicole brought me right back to who I was, and I felt better. Shortly thereafter they released their most recent album, "Rabbit."

I don't know why this band has such an effect on me. Maybe its because they've been my favorite for 16 years, maybe they are what helped me find myself as a child so that is why they always bring me back to reality now, maybe they just make damn good music. Whatever the reason, they have brought enormous amounts of joy into my life. I have them to thank for my best friends in the world, and I know that whenever I'm feeling down, they will make it all better.

I hope they are around forever, although that is probably is a little farfetched, but I won't worry about that now. I'm on my way to get tickets for Nicole and I for Skyblast on June 5th. Our favorite band will be returning once again for what will be my 13th Collective Soul Concert!