It's been a pretty eventful past couple of weeks to say the least. I went to San Fransisco, escaping Hurricane/Super Storm Sandy, on Friday the soccer seaosn ended, and on Saturday night I went to a Freelance Whales concert.
I was supposed to write this last night, but then I started watching Supernatural, which I do not think was a wise decision for my schoolwork and sleep. Oh well.
San Francisco was just amazing. I will probably write a long post about it at some point, but I really want to say what I want to say about this concert that frustrated me greatly. I probably should be talking about the election, but I think that there is enough about that out there right now.
The music was incredible. At concerts, that is where I feel most alive, the closest I come to love. There is something somewhere about your heart beating out of your chest, I think it is in a song. That is what I feel when the bass is running through my veins and the music and people are surrounding me united in a love of words and music strung together in a way that means something
I went with my friends, one of them lives far away now, so that was amazing, although one of them couldn't stand near us because she couldn't breathe well in the space. It was the third concert I've been to, and its strange how each has been different.
The first was outside. I stood mostly in the open, with my sister, family, and a few family friends. The Decemberists were playing
The second was crowded, in a large venue, with my friends, there were a lot of people my age, packed in like sardines. I danced a lot, let loose a bit, screamed the songs. Two Door Cinema Club was playing
This was in a smaller venue. There was a lot of college people. I was pretty squished. Unfortunately, there was a couple to my left and a couple (with a 6-foot-tall guy) right in front of me. They both were very affectionate.
Don't get me wrong, this concert was just as great as the last two, but I also felt very lonely. It was the couples, but it was mostly the guy two rows in front of me, right in front of the 6-foot mass. He was gorgeous. And I wanted to go and talk to him, flirt with him maybe. Because I felt pretty nice looking that night, because I was wearing make-up, I had my hair down, I had a new sweater on, one of those oversized knit ones that hung off my shoulder just so. But I couldn't go up to him. I still didn't feel pretty enough, not confident enough.
I have always been consumed by the idea of meeting someone in an interesting place, like a concert, or an airport. I am a romantic person, and the idea of romantic recklessness has always appealed to me. But when the time came to bump into him and smile, try to flirt, I just couldn't. I could have the last songs, when I was right behind him. But he didn't turn around. And I made up all these reasons why I couldn't, that it was a bad idea to dance next to him. He wouldn't find me attractive, I can't flirt, I am too socially awkward, he is hard to get too etc. But at the same time, I wanted to let go, take a chance, so incredibly badly.
But I didn't. The last song was played, and we moved separate ways. Me to get water, then shiver outside in my sweater waiting for my friend's dad to pick us us. Him to his own bed, maybe with the same incessant ringing in his ears that was in mine.
In a perfect world, I thought, I would be sexy, and flirty. There wouldn't be that couple in front of us. I'd ask him if he'd want to dance, and we'd have fun. We'd talk, maybe exchange numbers, maybe I'd finally have my first kiss.
But this isn't a perfect world.
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