Spoon is an alternate rock band that has been around for decades (1994-now); who have always stuck to their unique, jangly, guitars and synths. Their critical acclaim is impressive, and their longevity in making quality music is hard to match.
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| The Austin, TX-based band which stole my heart years ago |
They are having a concert next Tuesday in Boise, which I was on the cusp of going. I sort of owe it to Spoon and myself to go. Spoon was the first non-mainstream band I listened to. My brother walked away from the computer and left his music playing. It was Spoon's "Paper Tiger", and I stared at the track listings for their best album in confused awe. "This doesn't sound right, but it sounds amazing" I thought. Stark guitar, simple yet strange noises, pure lyrics. Mesmerizing. And from their I began my search for musical happiness.
I found out from one of their Instagram posts only a few days ago that Spoon, who started this trip (which if you know me has been a long and encompassing one), is performing in Boise, 100 miles away from my house. That would be sweet to go. Only problem- I needed a concert buddy. Someone to share the experience with, someone to keep me awake on the drive home, someone who'd appreciate the music. There are a lot of people who love going to concerts, but- for a band they've never heard of? On a Tuesday? for 43$? I only know of two people who were up for it. One just moved to Logan and the other can't get out of a commitment. And just like that, no concert buddy. No concert. Missed chance of paying homage to my musical journey.
Back to 12:00 today, I'd like to post something about it. But what do I post? Because I'd also like to post about some of my shirts, and a picture on processing nostalgia through generations, and a post on officiating my second cousin's soccer game, and another on the horrible construction on the freeway. After filtering my mind of potential post ideas, I realized- none of this is entertaining to other people. I'm fascinated by all of these things, which all deserve some attention, but not that much attention.
A small window of recognition begins to expand- I'm not normal. I like things other people don't. What's the first book I read when I got home from my mission? The Screwtape Letters. I didn't totally enjoy Rogue One. I'm an American who follows English Premiere soccer. I listened to a 1988 interview NPR had with the Ramones on my way to work. I spent last Saturday night buying socks- and I loved it.
Rolling down my Instagram, I find the newest post from my girlfriend.
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| My girlfriend, who, strangely like Spoon, stole my heart years ago |
Look at her. She's beautiful. She's contemporary. You could look at this forever. I will tell you this got more likes than I could ever dream of getting. And she posts something like this twice a week. This is the girl that usually matches up with this guy.
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| This guy, who you wish stole your heart years ago |
So where do I fit in? The guy whose nickname is "Buckets" and used to keep his pencils in his socks?
I guess I don't. And I like it like that. It's so hard for me to connect naturally with people. I'm fascinated by outskirts, driven by the unknown. This makes it feel hard to be deeply involved with other people's lives and for other people to be deeply involved in me- which is a pain in the butt sometimes.
Don't get me wrong, I have tons of friends, plenty of loved ones; but sometimes you just want to slip in and not press the edges of social acceptance. It's the Beast Inside of Me. It's the one that you find silent at the party and rambling on stage. It's the one that can't morally understand Snapchat because he's been reading too much Dostoyevsky. It's the one that insists the Muppets are always funny. It's the one that flinches at The Office and watches ESPN Classic. It's the guy that carved his Drama Teacher's head into a pumpkin. It's this guy.
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| Me, who will not steal your heart in a few years |
Usually, I'm okay with swimming upstream, but this scroll through Instagram has made me feel strangely aware of my strokes. I think a little more about what picture I should post. One of my favorites come to mind. I'm on Dillon Beach in California, staring away from the Ocean and into a sprawl of condos. My jeans are rolled up to Capri's, my dark brown skin contrasts against the sky. And there's no one around me. It's obvious that I'm stuck in neutral, and enjoying every second. I'm looking to belong somewhere. I could pick any one of the houses before me, but I choose the beach. And when I get to the beach, I don't pay attention to the ocean, and I don't play in the sand. Am I really looking to belong?
Not then. Not two weeks ago. But I'm starting to. And the beast inside of me is curious.
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| Me, wondering where my heart is |
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