Yesterday
after church I was hanging around waiting for my family to assemble on
the sloped lawn so we could pile in the car and head home, per usual Sunday. Then
this girl Kate I kind-of know sidled up and started talking to me
about how she was going to a concert later that night and how her friend Rudy quite rudely bailed because of school activities. She asked me if
I wanted to go in his stead.
It was a band I'd never heard of and of which had no opinion, the Annie Moses Band. One deadly phrase from my bubbly companion quickly painted me a mental image, though, in a fatal brushstroke.
It was a band I'd never heard of and of which had no opinion, the Annie Moses Band. One deadly phrase from my bubbly companion quickly painted me a mental image, though, in a fatal brushstroke.
Family band.
Why I associate unpleasantness with this term is uncertain, but it's true.
Why I associate unpleasantness with this term is uncertain, but it's true.
Immediately an image of children wielding classical instruments sprung to my head, suffocating in their stiff pilgrim-esque clothes, shoes tight, hair prim, every interaction between siblings brimming with openly emotional closeness that's almost cringe-inducing to a coolly aloof sophisticate like myself.
(Perhaps more substantially adding to my lack of friendly terms with this phrase, one of the things in my Closet-of-Jealousy is people who can play lots of instruments.)
But earlier this year an idea surfaced from the ashes of wrong choices I've made. It's profoundly wise if I do say so myself and has the potential to prevent much heartbreak. I now stick decidedly to this idea, and I've only regretted it once when I drove an hour to Sam's Club with my mom for groceries.
And the idea is this.
If the choice is "go" or "don't go", then go.
So I told her I would.
I rode home that day with Spontaneous Plans, and sometimes that's the best kind.
I quickly donned my new T-shirt (see above) and grabbed a fistfull of George Washingtons from my wallet (it's all I've got right now), squabbled with my mom over whether or not I had to bring my own sandwich, and got out the door.
The drive was to be two and a half hours. When Kate showed me how we'd be making this sojourn, I laughed in disbelief.
In my naivety I was excited for it too, at the prospect of something "adventurey".
Their trunk was a small flat space behind the back seats. Big for a trunk, small for two teenage girls with blankets and books and a mini cooler besides. My muscles ached with stiffness and my whole body yearned for relief from the engine heat, saturated by the thick blankets, by the time we got there.
But we managed. It was actually kind of fun.
We stopped at a river-side area for a picnic dinner and afterwards made our way to the church at which this Family Band of Perfect White-Toothed Talents would be performing.
We got a seat up in the balcony and waited. Kate had been to a music camp these people put on and actually got to be good friends with the youngest member, Jeremiah, and was hilariously jittery to see him again. She fanned her pink face with her hand and said "it's not funny!" as I laughed, but it was. Quite so.
There was a harp on stage like a golden boat it was so big. Violins, a cello, guitar, drums, keyboard. Meanwhile Kate mimed her heart about to burst out of her chest with a flapping hand.
Then they came out.
Their fingers flew over the strings, as un-followable as a street performer with that elusive ball underneath one of three cups. I expected to see smoke streaming from their hands, a microphone combust into a cascade of flames, perhaps the instruments to spontaneously disintegrate from overuse. And the man on the cello looked visibly angry with passion, swaying back and forth with the bow.
It was really cool.
And the whole time Kate was just trying to make eye contact with that guitar-strumming Jeremiah boy. She got up and walked to the stairwell and back in the hopes his eyes would flick up at the motion. Eventually he did glance up and his gaze fixed for a second, but he had other present obligations and had to look away.
Kate never did get to talk to Jeremiah though. After the performance he remained conveniently distant from the meet-and-greet table, but wasn't on the stage either, but seemed to have vanished in a cloud of magical purple dust or an instant transporting laser.
Kate claims his parents don't like her at all because he once put his arm around her at the table. (Now, they seem like lovely people, but this does reinforce my subconscious stereotype. xD) This also may explain his abrupt disappearance- his parents may have given him orders to not even greet her and held him hostage backstage.
Oh, tragic love.
The ride home was eventful. In that I mostly slept and got even more stiff in that "backseat" of theirs.
Kbaifo'now! :3
~Elizabeth
But earlier this year an idea surfaced from the ashes of wrong choices I've made. It's profoundly wise if I do say so myself and has the potential to prevent much heartbreak. I now stick decidedly to this idea, and I've only regretted it once when I drove an hour to Sam's Club with my mom for groceries.
And the idea is this.
If the choice is "go" or "don't go", then go.
So I told her I would.
I rode home that day with Spontaneous Plans, and sometimes that's the best kind.
I quickly donned my new T-shirt (see above) and grabbed a fistfull of George Washingtons from my wallet (it's all I've got right now), squabbled with my mom over whether or not I had to bring my own sandwich, and got out the door.
The drive was to be two and a half hours. When Kate showed me how we'd be making this sojourn, I laughed in disbelief.
In my naivety I was excited for it too, at the prospect of something "adventurey".
Their trunk was a small flat space behind the back seats. Big for a trunk, small for two teenage girls with blankets and books and a mini cooler besides. My muscles ached with stiffness and my whole body yearned for relief from the engine heat, saturated by the thick blankets, by the time we got there.
But we managed. It was actually kind of fun.
We stopped at a river-side area for a picnic dinner and afterwards made our way to the church at which this Family Band of Perfect White-Toothed Talents would be performing.
We got a seat up in the balcony and waited. Kate had been to a music camp these people put on and actually got to be good friends with the youngest member, Jeremiah, and was hilariously jittery to see him again. She fanned her pink face with her hand and said "it's not funny!" as I laughed, but it was. Quite so.
There was a harp on stage like a golden boat it was so big. Violins, a cello, guitar, drums, keyboard. Meanwhile Kate mimed her heart about to burst out of her chest with a flapping hand.
Then they came out.
Their fingers flew over the strings, as un-followable as a street performer with that elusive ball underneath one of three cups. I expected to see smoke streaming from their hands, a microphone combust into a cascade of flames, perhaps the instruments to spontaneously disintegrate from overuse. And the man on the cello looked visibly angry with passion, swaying back and forth with the bow.
It was really cool.
And the whole time Kate was just trying to make eye contact with that guitar-strumming Jeremiah boy. She got up and walked to the stairwell and back in the hopes his eyes would flick up at the motion. Eventually he did glance up and his gaze fixed for a second, but he had other present obligations and had to look away.
Kate never did get to talk to Jeremiah though. After the performance he remained conveniently distant from the meet-and-greet table, but wasn't on the stage either, but seemed to have vanished in a cloud of magical purple dust or an instant transporting laser.
Kate claims his parents don't like her at all because he once put his arm around her at the table. (Now, they seem like lovely people, but this does reinforce my subconscious stereotype. xD) This also may explain his abrupt disappearance- his parents may have given him orders to not even greet her and held him hostage backstage.
Oh, tragic love.
The ride home was eventful. In that I mostly slept and got even more stiff in that "backseat" of theirs.
Kbaifo'now! :3
~Elizabeth
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