The end result of all this crap is that I have learned to be solitary again. And that's really not a bad thing at all.

Troubled Hubble concert make Amanda very happy. Granted their music was mostly the same as last time they were here, but their energy just doesn't get old. Whenever they're playing they're jumping around and dancing and grinning like the happiest kids ever. Their music is also quite danceable, and it lends itself especially to the standing-in-one-place-jumping-up-and-down variety of dancing, which is good for me because that is one that I'm quite good at (along with the swaying-back-and-forth-and-nodding-with-the-music-variety. But that is not the Hubble way.) All this dancing takes place by the light of these strings of colored lights that they drape all across the drum set, keyboard, and any other available surface.

What really makes their shows so excellent is their bizarre antics, and their interaction with the audience. At one point I had glanced away from the stage briefly and looked back to find Chris doing a headstand with his legs propped against Josh's back -- both still playing away. They have a tendency to climb onto things and then jump off of them in various impressive-looking ways. At one point Chris managed to part the crowd into a vaguely circular formation and danced among us, which was followed by free-form dancing by all who cared to. They seem to enjoy blurring the line that separates the band from the crowd, which makes me wonder what their shows are like in venues bigger than Cecilie's, because in the small basement room, without a stage setting them off from the audience, they seem to be in their element. They chat with the crowd almost as though they were talking to just a couple of people, and use the things we say to improvise new lyrics to their songs, which they are fairly skilled at doing. And the things they say are just fun and silly. On the topic of Indiglo watches: "I want an Indiglo car. That runs on Indiglo fuel." Explanation for "The Pincher" (paraphrased): "This song is about a moustache that's part of a mailman's uniform and it lives in this sealed bag and sometimes it gets out of the bag and when it does it runs around neighborhoods biting people's legs until someone catches it and puts it back in the bag." See? They're random and silly.

All in all, if you ever get a chance to see them, definitely do it. You can't just stand still at a show like that.

It's funny how you can feel so close to a person in your head and yet so distant from them when you're actually speaking to them...

Oh I've been sometimes under your wall, peeping at all where I'm not welcome.
I've seen you one time stumble and fall, but I still love you, you see?
I've been five times back to the well, seeking to tell myself we're something,
But you can't teach what you can't sell, and I'm not the only one it seems...

~Ted Leo, "Under the Hedge"

I think it just might be possible that this solves everything.

What I wouldn't give to be a Linea after amnesia, a Ke'ra with a bright future ahead of her because of what she was allowed to forget about herself...

I'm not going to say that I don't swat at the houseflies around here, same as everyone else, but it's not really with the intent to kill so much as to get them away from me. And annoying as they are, I really feel bad for flies slowly dying on flytape. Like one is doing right now, a few feet away from me.

Yes, I am completely and utterly ridiculous.

Today as I was walking back from band, I saw the full moon hanging right next to the chapel dome, gleaming almost the same color. It was stunning.

So, I'm not cool. (Yeah, news flash.) I don't adopt that air of boredom and superiority that make some people convinced that they're somehow more mature than the rest of the world. I'm not witty, generally, but I'm silly. I can make people laugh sometimes, and I like that. I can let myself go. I don't feel the need to behave like everyone else does, in a crowd.

I'm used to getting funny looks for that. I'm used to people thinking I'm weird. Doesn't bother me, generally. But when people I used to think of as fun and laid-back, and, well, as friends, start shrinking back and pretending they don't know me, because I'm being loud, or silly, I do get disappointed. They've started trying to inch their way up a pedestal so that they can look down on me. It's that condescending air that hurts. From a stranger I couldn't care less. From people who used to matter, it's depressing.

Lately I've felt more and more aware of my age, as though the few years by which I'm younger than most of my friends is gradually increasing. People keep dressing themselves in this image of adulthood, casting aside things that appear childish, including me, and looking down on me as though they know that soon I'll learn, too, that I must act with some sort of dignified conformity so that I too can fit in and be taken seriously.

But I refuse to accept that I should ever have to wear an image to be valuable to my friends. I refuse to accept that growing up means taking on the conformity that I learned to toss aside years ago. I refuse to accept that expressing myself and being comfortable with myself is something that I'll condemn as childish in favor of a detatched mask. Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe this is the temper-tantrum of a child being told to let go of an old toy. But I've a sneaking suspicion that it's not. If I ever grow out of my individuality, you'll know that this Colgate place has found a way to beat me into their mold after all, because frankly, this herd of cows isn't one that I've ever been interested in blending into.

Unfortunately, if you search for "practice rooms" on the Colgate website, the only two results that come up are from my blog archives. Nowhere in my blog have I ever given any useful information about the Colgate practice rooms. In fact, the two times that I mention practice rooms, the reference is to the ones in my high school. Yay efficient searches.

But, just to help people out, practice rooms at Colgate are located on the ground level of Dana Arts Center (that's the ugly parking-garage-like building next to Little Hall) and in the basement of the chapel. The ones in Dana are usually unlocked and all you need to do is find a vacant one. In the chapel I think you might have to go to the secretary-person in the back of the building and ask for a key, though. But I only tried to use them once, and that was over the summer, so it may be different during the semester.

If a dragon sang, what would it sound like?

I think Colgate accidentally used up its quota of nice weather for the year by giving us a mostly-sunny band camp and a bright and brilliant freshman move-in day. Now all that's left is chill, rainy, blustery and fitful days when the skies and trees themselves seem to express their discontent. How can I not be affected? If the weather could be calm, tranquil, at peace, I could too, I swear. No, really.

You know, there really ought to be more truly loyal people in the world. I don't mean people who agree with you no matter what, that's no good. I mean people who challenge you (to your face) if they disagree but stand by you even when you're not around. There are too many ridiculously two-faced people out there, and friendship with them (even if they're nice people) is always thin and tenuous. Loyalty and honesty are of the greatest value.