Live music.

What makes you look around? Like, LOOK around?

I have to tell you, I love the picture of me above, but that’s not the face and hair I have on right now. No, my current get-up encouraged my roommate to prescribe cuddles, peppermint oil and deep breaths upon opening the door of our room where I sit typing to you.

Lately with project stress and the quick-quick-slow anticipation of graduation, well, there’s no other way to say it—I’m just very tired, haha.

But let’s not talk about that for a second. Let’s talk about concerts.

My first concert was freshman year. My friends Lauren, Lindsey and Michael were going to see The Rocket Summer and Classic Crime. I’d never heard either of the bands’ music but was beginning to be full of quick yes’s to new adventures. We stood for about 4 hours on the packed floor of Chain Reaction in Anaheim and it was tiring but great. I came back to my dorm that night exhausted but excited, and made it a comfort-zone pushing goal to see music live at least once a semester or every 6 months.

Fast forward from Spring 2013, and I treasure the glitter of memories with friends seeing Switchfoot, Chris Tomlin, Needtobreathe, Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors, Colony House, the band formerly called J. Thoven, George Ezra, Oh Wonder and others.

There’s so much to take in. The venue, the people, the day and the way it turns to night. It’s amazing. Everyone has come for this one thing. To love words and song and everything you can’t explain but wish you could, or at least wish someone else could.

Something I particularly don’t like is when people complain rather vocally about the opener, while they perform.

Going back to that stress-y stuff, I feel like everyone around me is being forced to say they love doing something they don’t. Why are you so busy? Oh, I have this and this and this and this. The smiles aren’t fake, but the exhaustion is palpable.

Is it because we all just want so bad to love it? Whatever it is? Don’t read too hard into that.

I get this feeling I know isn’t true, that the months leading up to grad are a grace period ticking away before all my friends and I have to learn that adulthood is more than we’re bargaining for, and that we’ll be told that we owe more to the world than we could have realized.

Ah! I hate saying things like these. Fears? Yeah. Working on that fear of man with a major in-progress status.

In the creative field saturated in social media, I think everyone is being coaxed to become monetizing robots. I don’t think any of us want this! To become a slave of money worries? Noooooo. Everyone wants to make a career out of a hobby, and it’s just not as easy as getting your desk cleared for your computer and some peonies. Who loves the arts and gets in it for the money? I can’t think of anyone. If they exist, they’ve got sharper business skills than me for sure.

Alright so back to concerts. And openers. One reason complaints against them really get to me is that the people who you did come to see probably had a hand in choosing who you’re seeing right now. And it’s probably a huge deal for that smaller band to get to be there. I’m certainly guilty of low expectations and last night got proven wrong nicely seeing a band who are actually from the same place I’m from!

Group projects make me want to run. So seeing some people get together with no guarantee of that many people showing, and they’re up on that stage and—alright we’ll get superficial, they all just look like a cool group of people with their short-sleeve button ups and trendy don’t-care hair—I imagine all the practice it’s taken to get where they are. To be there. In a tiny venue. That requires you to circle around for 40 minutes for parking. And they’re playing music they wrote, and they’re thanking you for being there. You didn’t even come for them. And that’s dedication to something you just love, isn’t it? Because it doesn’t matter who’s watching but, hey, thanks for coming.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m thankful. That no matter how frozen up I feel about what I can do, oh it’s so to teach me about what God can do. And how much joy of living comes out of just doing it, and betting everything.

Is that a good enough close? Welp, that’s we got for now. 🎉


Sup pudding cup?

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