When I woke up this morning, I intended to write a bitter-sweet entry with heavy emphasis on the SWEEEEEEET. I was even going to link to this comic, which I felt was rather appropriate:
See, I woke up this morning with a "dance hangover". Really, one of the best kinds of hangovers to be had. They always come from kick-ass shows in which I dance my ass off. Like the one I went to last night:
You see, when in a wheelchair, dancing consists of a lot of upper-body movement and head bobbing. Constantly.* The show last night was highly conducive to dancing, so this morning I woke up with a mild case of whiplash. That would be the very, very tiny smidge of "bitter" in the bittersweet configuration that I mentioned above. In a sense though, now that the painkillers are kicking in, it really just adds to the SWEEEEET part of the whole night.
Now for the truly "bitter" aspect. Epic Fail in the area of following the teachings of:
I left the show early, pretty much right as the headlining band, Brass Menazeri went on. They are amazing, from the sounds I heard behind be as I walked out. I also have good reason to believe that they had BELLY DANCERS on stage. *sigh* Why did I leave then? Why is this such an Epic Fail? I'm glad you asked.**
1) Because I was exhausted from having been in the Library all afternoon (go me for productivity!!!)
2) I was thinking a lot about the fact that I was going to the Treasure Island Music Festival next Saturday, on a date-like thingy, and I should do the responsible thing and get some rest and keep myself healthy.
Let's essentially tackle item 2, since this is where everything swings back to the "bitter" end of the spectrum. The theory was, I didn't want to burn out before the "big day" so to speak. I've only really been out with this girl once before, and we had a pretty good time (I thought). My weeks are pretty grueling these days, so being chill and not (overly) hungover all this weekend was kind of essential. I was being *gasp* responsible, and "trying to plan ahead". I mean, I figured that I would be dancing my ass off again in about a week, with a hot chica to the sounds of Mike Relm, Goldfrapp, and the like, so I could be comfortable with missing Brass Menazeri, because of the eventual payoff of having a great "date" next week. Right?Right?Wrong!
I wake up this morning to find that she has bailed (via a public comment on my frickin' myspace page). WTF?! She and I have had some scheduling issues in the past, but my god, she knew I was going to buy the frickin' tickets and told me to go for it. Maybe I should buy her a calendar instead.
Anyway, I was/am pretty bummed. I don't really date much (err...at all), and I hate going to these sorts of big shows alone. My first instinct was to just get rid of the tickets altogether (Weekend Passes! I was never quite sure if I was going to go to the Sunday portion) because I just felt like"not dealing". Now however, I realize I MUST go and have a blast regardless. That will show her. yeah. Or rather, it will show me, which is infinitely more important. Now however, I have to scrounge up a "date". This should prove a little difficult, because contrary to popular opinion, I don't actually have a rolodex full of ready and willing arm candy.***
God, this whole dating for the first time, whilst trying to rock my 3L year of law school is really fucking hard. I think I might go back to just doing the strictly academic rockstar gig and just let somebody marry me for my money in a couple of years
Anyway, enough of that whiny crap. Life is actually pretty sweet right now. I am rocking the school front pretty hard, and a couple of things occurred to me last night when I was bombing****through the TL.
1) I LOVE to do urban racing...especially while slightly buzzed and with a good soundtrack.
2) To that end, I really need to get one of my three projects off of the ground in the next six months or so. They are:
A) Underground Electric Wheelchair Urban Rally Racing Club (there has to be a better term for it)
B) Wheelchair Courier Service. Not quite as fast as bike messengers, but a whole lot more awesome.
C) My "helmet cam" blog project thingy.
Also, this entry would be seriously lacking without a genuine salute to truthwhore for being such a fun concert buddy last night and in general. I would take him to TIMF, but apparently he won't make out with me. Even at the request of his girlfriend. What's that about?!
*This is probably why I was so stoked when, while in college, I discovered pogoing and realized that what I was doing was pretty frickin' typical at punk shows.
**I am also glad that I am blogging, so I can assume you asked, and continue to talk at you.
***Actually I do, but none of the names in it are in the area. And I'll be damned if I am going to start buying plane tickets as well...for transatlantic flights at that.
****As one slightly inebriated pedestrian put it.
NOTE: sometime in the middle of writing this entry, Ticketmaster sent me an e-mail notifying me my tickets have been printed and are going in the mail. yay.
See, I woke up this morning with a "dance hangover". Really, one of the best kinds of hangovers to be had. They always come from kick-ass shows in which I dance my ass off. Like the one I went to last night:
You see, when in a wheelchair, dancing consists of a lot of upper-body movement and head bobbing. Constantly.* The show last night was highly conducive to dancing, so this morning I woke up with a mild case of whiplash. That would be the very, very tiny smidge of "bitter" in the bittersweet configuration that I mentioned above. In a sense though, now that the painkillers are kicking in, it really just adds to the SWEEEEET part of the whole night.
Now for the truly "bitter" aspect. Epic Fail in the area of following the teachings of:
I left the show early, pretty much right as the headlining band, Brass Menazeri went on. They are amazing, from the sounds I heard behind be as I walked out. I also have good reason to believe that they had BELLY DANCERS on stage. *sigh* Why did I leave then? Why is this such an Epic Fail? I'm glad you asked.**
1) Because I was exhausted from having been in the Library all afternoon (go me for productivity!!!)
2) I was thinking a lot about the fact that I was going to the Treasure Island Music Festival next Saturday, on a date-like thingy, and I should do the responsible thing and get some rest and keep myself healthy.
Let's essentially tackle item 2, since this is where everything swings back to the "bitter" end of the spectrum. The theory was, I didn't want to burn out before the "big day" so to speak. I've only really been out with this girl once before, and we had a pretty good time (I thought). My weeks are pretty grueling these days, so being chill and not (overly) hungover all this weekend was kind of essential. I was being *gasp* responsible, and "trying to plan ahead". I mean, I figured that I would be dancing my ass off again in about a week, with a hot chica to the sounds of Mike Relm, Goldfrapp, and the like, so I could be comfortable with missing Brass Menazeri, because of the eventual payoff of having a great "date" next week. Right?Right?Wrong!
I wake up this morning to find that she has bailed (via a public comment on my frickin' myspace page). WTF?! She and I have had some scheduling issues in the past, but my god, she knew I was going to buy the frickin' tickets and told me to go for it. Maybe I should buy her a calendar instead.
Anyway, I was/am pretty bummed. I don't really date much (err...at all), and I hate going to these sorts of big shows alone. My first instinct was to just get rid of the tickets altogether (Weekend Passes! I was never quite sure if I was going to go to the Sunday portion) because I just felt like"not dealing". Now however, I realize I MUST go and have a blast regardless. That will show her. yeah. Or rather, it will show me, which is infinitely more important. Now however, I have to scrounge up a "date". This should prove a little difficult, because contrary to popular opinion, I don't actually have a rolodex full of ready and willing arm candy.***
God, this whole dating for the first time, whilst trying to rock my 3L year of law school is really fucking hard. I think I might go back to just doing the strictly academic rockstar gig and just let somebody marry me for my money in a couple of years
Anyway, enough of that whiny crap. Life is actually pretty sweet right now. I am rocking the school front pretty hard, and a couple of things occurred to me last night when I was bombing****through the TL.
1) I LOVE to do urban racing...especially while slightly buzzed and with a good soundtrack.
2) To that end, I really need to get one of my three projects off of the ground in the next six months or so. They are:
A) Underground Electric Wheelchair Urban Rally Racing Club (there has to be a better term for it)
B) Wheelchair Courier Service. Not quite as fast as bike messengers, but a whole lot more awesome.
C) My "helmet cam" blog project thingy.
Also, this entry would be seriously lacking without a genuine salute to truthwhore for being such a fun concert buddy last night and in general. I would take him to TIMF, but apparently he won't make out with me. Even at the request of his girlfriend. What's that about?!
*This is probably why I was so stoked when, while in college, I discovered pogoing and realized that what I was doing was pretty frickin' typical at punk shows.
**I am also glad that I am blogging, so I can assume you asked, and continue to talk at you.
***Actually I do, but none of the names in it are in the area. And I'll be damned if I am going to start buying plane tickets as well...for transatlantic flights at that.
****As one slightly inebriated pedestrian put it.
NOTE: sometime in the middle of writing this entry, Ticketmaster sent me an e-mail notifying me my tickets have been printed and are going in the mail. yay.
2) There were belly dancers! Real ones, none of this Shakira bullshit.
3) I would have to bludgeon you repeatedly for taking a trophy wife (number of times inversely proportional to how hot she is).
4) Maybe we can combine the making out with the helmet cam blog.
Conclusion: you have the superpower Bi-Location.