Rags to riches I was listening to a live version of some song by some band. The song and band is not important right now and has nothing to do with the fact that I can't seem to remember what song it was. I knew last night, but it evades me today. Anyhoo, I was listening to the song and to the crowd cheering and singing along. I can't even imagine what it must feel like to be adored in that way. I wondered how the musicians felt hearing thousands of people sing lyrics he/she had written and watching those same people dance around to music they had created. It must be amazing. Especially when they know that just a short time ago, no one in that crowd had the slightest idea of who they (the band) were. I wondered how many times they had heard the words sell out. I wonder if they realize that the same people who like to throw around the words sell out probaby have a dusty drum kit, guitar, or microphone sitting in the corner. Their garage band dream didn't quite work out, but someone else's did. So someone else is a sell out. Someone else has a recording contract, someone else has a tour bus, someone else has the big house and the hot car. Someone else got out of the garage and probably worked their ass off for years to get that recording contract, tour bus, house, and car. In any other profession, you have to work your way up from the bottom. Mail room, typing pool, assistant to the assistant, on up to Chief Executive. These people aren't said to have sold out. No, they're hard workers. But the same thing happens in the music industry. Garage, seedy club, slightly less seedy club, theater, stadium....sell out. Granted there are several manufactured groups (I won't call them bands) that never had to work their way up to anything. They were pre-packaged and easily promotable. I don't regard them as highly as some other musicians who actually have some emotion in their music. But still, someone needs to keep the children entertained until they are old enough to distinguish between music and drivel. posted by Beth 2:50 PM . . . Tuesday, April 29, 2003 Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering? I actually left my house this weekend. Put on real clothes too. I can't remember what I did Friday night. I was supposed to go see Anger Management, but I didn't. I'm not sure how I spent my day, but my night was spent on the phone. I spoke to Melissa for awhile. She's having some difficulties. Then around 2am Eric called. He fell asleep talking to me. This may or may not point to my skills as a conversationalist. I woke up Saturday morning to find my left eye swelled beyond belief. Keep in mind that my left eye is now my good and with it swollen I had some trouble seeing. I assume I was bitten by some creature in the night. Not to be confused with the creature of the night. That would probably have been more fun. Anyhoo, the swelling was more or less gone by mid-afternoon. I met Audrey's tall friend on Saturday afternoon, went to the mall and paid some bills, and bought myself something silky. I always find that buying myself silky things helps to raise my spirits. That evening I visited with Holly for a bit. Fun was had. The sentence that best sums up my time with Holly is I found Madagascar to be an "extinct lemur." Don't ask what it means. Nobody is sure. Don't think about it for too long or your head will surely explode. Anyhoo, on with the pondering. I've been thinking alot lately about why I am here. What service do I perform? How do I justify my existence? I've come to the conclusion that I am a waste of space. As most of us are. I have no husband or prospect thereof. I have no children. I have no job. I have no skills to speak of. I have skills, just not skills you're supposed to speak of. haha. I've have discovered that I am usually making someone cry, or stopping someone from crying. I have a mommy chip. I have a never ending supply of bandaids. I am forever nagging people about taking cold medications, allergy medications, cleaning a cut or some other such nonsense. I can't help it. That being said, I don't do well with crying as most of you know. So I don't understand why people seek me out when they are in emotional distress. (not that I mind, I just don't see myself as helpful.) It's happened twice this weekend. I don't say a word to them usually. They just cry and talk. Then when they are through they say things like thanks for helping me or thanks for making me feel better. But I didn't do anything. I just sat there feeling unable to help. That's why I don't like crying. It's a booboo you can't see. I like to fix things, but you can't slap a bandaid on someone who is heartsick. How are you supposed to mend someone's broken heart when you can't even fix your own? posted by Beth 1:35 AM . . .
Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering? I actually left my house this weekend. Put on real clothes too. I can't remember what I did Friday night. I was supposed to go see Anger Management, but I didn't. I'm not sure how I spent my day, but my night was spent on the phone. I spoke to Melissa for awhile. She's having some difficulties. Then around 2am Eric called. He fell asleep talking to me. This may or may not point to my skills as a conversationalist. I woke up Saturday morning to find my left eye swelled beyond belief. Keep in mind that my left eye is now my good and with it swollen I had some trouble seeing. I assume I was bitten by some creature in the night. Not to be confused with the creature of the night. That would probably have been more fun. Anyhoo, the swelling was more or less gone by mid-afternoon. I met Audrey's tall friend on Saturday afternoon, went to the mall and paid some bills, and bought myself something silky. I always find that buying myself silky things helps to raise my spirits. That evening I visited with Holly for a bit. Fun was had. The sentence that best sums up my time with Holly is I found Madagascar to be an "extinct lemur." Don't ask what it means. Nobody is sure. Don't think about it for too long or your head will surely explode. Anyhoo, on with the pondering. I've been thinking alot lately about why I am here. What service do I perform? How do I justify my existence? I've come to the conclusion that I am a waste of space. As most of us are. I have no husband or prospect thereof. I have no children. I have no job. I have no skills to speak of. I have skills, just not skills you're supposed to speak of. haha. I've have discovered that I am usually making someone cry, or stopping someone from crying. I have a mommy chip. I have a never ending supply of bandaids. I am forever nagging people about taking cold medications, allergy medications, cleaning a cut or some other such nonsense. I can't help it. That being said, I don't do well with crying as most of you know. So I don't understand why people seek me out when they are in emotional distress. (not that I mind, I just don't see myself as helpful.) It's happened twice this weekend. I don't say a word to them usually. They just cry and talk. Then when they are through they say things like thanks for helping me or thanks for making me feel better. But I didn't do anything. I just sat there feeling unable to help. That's why I don't like crying. It's a booboo you can't see. I like to fix things, but you can't slap a bandaid on someone who is heartsick. How are you supposed to mend someone's broken heart when you can't even fix your own? posted by Beth 1:35 AM . . .
