columbia: [meesh visits!] and life in jersey

so just as i was coming down from my amazing-friday-night-jack's-mannequin high, excitement level immediately shot back up because meesh was coming to see me! she's been all over the midwest for interviews and kansas city was next on the list. and of course, this meant a stop in columbia so we could hang out for a few days. i just can't get past how bizarre [and awesome] it all was. some random girl i saw at a show, eventually added on facebook, traveled to shows with, and now have become best friends with, was coming to hang out with me. we were in my college town, in my apartment, and not going to a show. we were just hanging out like any pair of normal friends would. i love my life and all it's strange occurances. [thanks for hookin it up, we the living.]

so we got dinner with my other roommates saturday night, and sat around watching the olympics and talked about everything under the sun. sunday afternoon involved lunch at bread co, and meesh eventually headed west to kansas city. and then monday came, and meesh came back after her interview in the afternoon. we once again were lazy bums watching the olympics... good times. tuesday brought a little excitement though. life in jersey was in town and i was super stoked to finally have a show buddy. small shows are always awkward when you're alone and i still haven't gotten used to it... so we got a late dinner and headed over to mojo's. opener was... interesting. life in jersey [with quite the line-up change] was fantastic as always, and highland fall was your typical pop rock band. not really my thing, but they weren't too shabby. so we hung around for a bit and bought some merch and tried to to explain to a very intoxicated carson how we knew various band friends. successful show. successful "weekend" hanging out with meesh. good times all around.

now, on to march. prepare for lots of show-related blogs. march will be the month that i will likely lose my sanity due to a multitude of epic shows and lack of sleep. let the craziness begin [on tuesday.]

kansas city: fun. and jack's mannequin

i'm behind in the blogosphere! oh well, it was quite the busy weekend. but friday was indeed full of up and downs. i woke up feeling like absolute death and dragged myself through the day. i barely made it, so i decided to skip my last class so i could  take a nap before making the drive to kansas city. coherence while driving > american literature. so i came home and crashed for a few hours which helped my terrible stomach and headache, and was eventually on my way to kansas city. found the beaumont club with no serious trouble and got in line around seven forty five. doors were supposed to be at seven, but alas. we weren't let inside until eight and i missed most of vedera's set, which was dissappointing because i really liked the few songs i got to hear. i also did my good deed of the day - the couple in front of me didn't have any cash for the two dollar minor charge so i paid for all of us and told them to pay it forward. i know if that were me, i'd be pissed beyond belief if i had to lose my spot in line to go hunt for a random atm for four measly dollars.

anyways. the show. vedera was great and i'm definitely going to be keeping an eye out for them in the future. fun was fantastic as well, and i'm kind of ashamed to say that i haven't bought their album yet. no idea why, actually. but i'll get around to it when i decide to spend the money. i was secretly hoping they'd play a format song or two, but no... bummer. mr. mcmahaon made up for it though. he came on stage and proceeded to complain about playing the show because he'd rather be on the bus watching curling. HA. the set was amazing, i sang my little heart out, and of course made friends with the people next to me, and we made fun of the drunk girl behind me who couldn't even stand up. oh the entertainment. the crowd was great too, and we even succeeded in getting not one, but two encores. bad ass.

so after the show, we slowly filed out and i ran into the couple i had paid for earlier. we chatted briefly and they convinced me to get coffee with them - there was a twenty four hour coffee shop right next door to the venue and they insisted on paying me back since he had a credit card with him. so we got coffee and traded show stories, and i eventually made the drive back to columbia. it really restored my faith in humanity - it's not often you come across genuinely nice and honest people. what a friday night.

not so tough found out

i've always been a little crazy. but that's nothing out of the ordinary. we're all crazy. when i was really young, i had this strange fixation with the number six. [pair that with the stereotypical redhead temper and yes, i was truly a spawn of satan.] i would count to six, and then i would have to do that six times. and once that set was complete, i would do all of that six times, and keep on going. there were also the strange noises. i would lay in bed at night and make these "duh duh duh" sounds with my tongue in particular little rhythms. and i could only be done when i was satisfied with the rhythm and it felt finished. like i said, a little crazy.

now my crazy nuances are stress-related. i had my first panic attack two summers ago and it was the scariest, most traumatic experience of my life. granted, my state of mind was a bit altered, but regardless, it took me a good while to fully get over that. and then it happened again, and pretty soon i had myself conditioned to where smoking pot meant having a panic attack. needless to say, i haven't smoked anymore. so unfortunately, that has planted the thought in the back of my mind about having another attack. and the most recent addition to that worry, is my breathing habits. i can't get a full breath in, which makes me freak out and sometimes hyperventilate. this in turn leads to an attack. and thus, the cycle repeats itself.

well i got tired of the cycle. because it was getting in the way of living my life, and preventing me from sleeping. so i finally made a decision and scheduled an appointment to see someone. and i have learned that i am not alone. and that there are solutions to the problem. and that i am not as crazy as i think i am. *sigh of relief!* what you think about me, however, is another story i guess.

everything in transit

i wrote this after watching dear jack a few months ago, the documentary about andrew mcmahon's battle with leukemia. now, i realize today is valentine's day. and i realize this is a bit of a downer. so i'm sorry about that, but i felt like this deserved to be published, as i will be seeing jack's mannequin at the end of this week in kansas city. live shows are always super exciting for me, but jack's mannequin always evokes heightened emotions, and i usually end up shedding some tears. perhaps this is why.

it makes me ache. and it takes me so quickly back to two and a half years ago when that was me, and my family. me and my mom and my dad. it was me in minnesota for a week and a half at the mayo clinic doing the same thing that andrew's sister katie did. i donated my stem cells for a transplant to save my mom. i had the hormone shots twice a day, for seven days. they made my bones produce extra stem cells and it hurt like the strangest pain you'll never understand. it was a dull ache, and it was everywhere.

i remember all the snow on the ground; so high that when we walked on the side walks we couldn't even see the cars on the streets. just me and my dad. my mom was confined to her apartment and hospital bed only. she was allowed to travel nowhere else. but me and my dad freely walked. and i lagged behind. every step made every bone in my body ache and i was exhausted. we went to mall of america. i should have been enthralled by all the stores and clothes and restaurants and roller coasters. but i just wanted to sit. or lay down. or float, rather, because any pressure on any part of my body hurt. i remember all the homework i was supposed to be doing. but didn't. because when your mom has a 105 degree fever and chemo isn't working, you have more important things to worry about. and when you have a tube stuck in your wrist for those seven days, it's hard to hold a pen anyway, because the little thing in your vein rolls around and it hurts too, just like your bones.

i never told anyone back home any of this. if i did, it would have on my xanga... man, those were the days... because what do my complaints mean when my mom is the one in the hospital dying of leukemia? what do my complaints mean when i've been here seven days and she's been here seven weeks? i'm supposed to be the hero. i'm supposed to be the one saving her life. and it didn't work. my cells didn't work. they didn't do their job and leukemia still ravaged her marrow.

i remember the time we went for a visit, the time before she was so terribly sick and could still travel freely around the city. the time before the aching bones and mall of america trips. she was up there alone for a few weeks and had settled into the apartment that was specifically for patients receiving care at the clinic. my dad and i went up so i could have extensive testing done. testing to make sure i was an eligible stem cell donor. after all, they were my cells that were supposed to be taking over my mom's body and giving her a second chance at life. i remember the three of us sitting on the hotel bed together, all holding each other and crying. my mom was terrified and didn't want us to leave her there alone. and i also remember my mom having a particular attachment to the snow patrol song 'chasing cars.' we listened to it together and cried and cried and cried. if i lay here, if i just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world she kept repeating over and over. it was awful. and then we left. and flew back home. my dad would fly back a week later for a month to be with her during all the treatments. and then i was the one left alone.

it was at the same time she had the snow patrol attachment, that i had a jack's mannequin attachment. everything in transit was the soundtrack to all the road trips north, and all the plane flights north, and all the drives in the rental car meandering minneapolis. i had no idea of andrew's bout with leukemia. i had no idea that album was finished the day he was diagnosed. i had no idea that those songs, the ones that comforted me through all those months of utter loneliness, were the songs written by a man who had survived leukemia. it was a coincidence, and looking back, it was an eerie one. because i can't really make a happy comparison of triumphs. but i can look back and have a hint of a smile, even though it's a smile with tears and pain in it too.