Hi weirdos. It’s been a while.
Life has been rough. I haven’t really had the words in a long time. But the only way out of Hell is through, right? If I want to find the fire I lost, I have to try. So here’s the first attempt. Enjoy, I guess? Buckle in? Something catchy, something blue, (you know the rest).
So first: where have I been? Lost and sleepwalking, mostly. I hate that what I thought was happiness was just going through the motions. Complacency is deadly. But I’m waking up again, by some miracle, and learning how to be on my own for the first time. It’s exhilarating and terrifying and all the other -ing words the English language can handle. I think I understand better now the Robert Frost quote I have tattooed on my feet. “I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.” 20-year-old me was arrogant enough to think she knew what it meant. Sweet, sweet winter child. Because here I am, a few years shy of a decade later, and I’ve found the miles beneath my feet but have not lived up to the promises I should’ve kept.
I’m sure you’re wondering (and this is a stretch because I don’t live rent-free in your head) why now? Why come back to this sad and forgotten place? It’s simple. I’m desperate. Please, before you roll your eyes and close the page, let me tell you what I’m desperate for. Still here? Ok. Deep breath, here it goes: I’m desperate for connection. I feel like there’s this invisible wall between me and the people around me. The silence is deafening and I’m fucking screaming and trying to break through.
It felt overwhelming and scary and insurmountable. And then, I took the first step. I took a solo trip to Vegas to see a show. It was the first show I’ve been to since before I moved to Nevada. It felt like coming home. It felt like freedom. I realized on the way back home that I had lost, or forgotten, an essential part of my being. Music has always been sacred to me in a way that only a zealot would understand. I think I wept. I think I transcended. The energy in that space was hallowed ground. I sound like a raging lunatic, I’m aware, but I felt alive in a very singular way that I could never recreate anywhere else. I know that I felt lighter than I have in years after that show.
The music itself was phenomenal live. There’s just no comparison between listening to a record in your headphones and hearing the emotion behind a band’s songs. God, I even made a fool of myself by messaging the reclusive and/or fiercely private singer. (Don’t worry – it’s since been deleted/unsent/whatever. I never expected him to actually see it, because I’m not entirely a raging lunatic – most days – but also on the off chance that the intern running the social media did – I’d be mortified.)
Side note – I was, coincidentally, a teenager who couldn’t form words, let alone sentences, for the first 10 years of being a fan of other metal bands that I’d get to meet occasionally. It was awful and embarrassing and generally uncomfortable for everyone involved. Don’t meet your heroes, kids, especially not if you’re shy and awkward etc. etc. It’s gotten better as I’ve grown into an actual human and not just a feral amalgamation of emotions that were too large to contain. I’m still feral, but I choose it now. All good things are wild and free or whatever the fuck that Pinterest post said. Most days I am indeed just two raccoons in a trench coat but I feel like I’ve lost the plot here so we’re gonna move on from the digression.
If you’re wondering: it was the Concrete Forever tour I saw in Vegas. I am so grateful I got to see I See Stars & ERRA & Bad Omens. I’m proud of myself for making it happen and not giving up when obstacles were put in my way. Every single second was worth it. The music woke me up.
Now, if only those goddamn songs would start paying rent for the space they’ve taken up in my head. It’s only fair, I think, as I overdose on the songs you wrote.
Enough, I think, for now.
See ya, weirdos.
Friendly and/or feral reminder that the lyrics aren’t mine. The rest is my fault.
Ink & Tome 