Thank you muchly, Three Days Grace. My random ode to concerts.

This summer, Dad and I went to Milwaukee and Chicago for two weeks to go see Eddie Vedder (the lead singer of Pearl Jam) twice, Three Days Grace, and the Foo Fighters. This was nice for a number of reasons, especially that I haven't had my father to myself for any time more than a few hours since I was six (when my stepmother decided to waltz into our life). We also saw Three Days Grace at the Bloomsburg Fair last month.
For both of us, these were amazing experiences. Seeing a band in concert is a completely different experience from simply listening to them. The entire context changes. Growing up with this man as my father, I have a healthy appreciation for loud music. Our kitchen is very often filled with the sounds of the above bands, or Metallica, Nirvana, and numerous other rock bands. So being at a concert is a very natural place for me. There's nothing, absolutely nothing, that can compare to the moment when you put your hand on your chest, and your bones are vibrating due to the music's volume. It's like being a part of the music, and it steals my breath every time.
We both had similar feelings toward the shows. My Dad has been handed some really awful cards in life, and at his lows, listening to Pearl Jam saved him from suicide. To him, their music reflects feelings that he's had, and so Pearl Jam is like ointment on a wound. We saw Mr. Vedder in Milwaukee the first time, then in his native town of Chicago the second. In Milwaukee's case, we were walking on a street just off the main thouroughfare, and we were met with the sight of a tour bus. Not just any tour bus, Eddie's tour bus. This presented a very powerful feeling for my dad. The man that has saved his life so many times was separated from him by a mere few feet of distance and a layer of (probably bulletproof) metal. It doesn't sound like such a big deal, but to him, it was earth-moving. He proceeded to shout "Thank You," at the tour bus a total of two times. Eddie's shows were wonderful. Both were in small auditoriums, and we were in about the tenth row both times. These were both amazing to me, a person who was raised on food, water, and Pearl Jam; but to my Dad they were the height of any possible happiness.
Three Days Grace is my favorite band, and my feelings toward them are similar to my dad's feelings to Pearl Jam. It just seems like they know exactly how I'm feeling, and Adam Gontier is telling me not to give up, "'it's Never too Late." So, quite obviously, these shows had a similar effect on me as the Eddie Vedder shows did on Dad. They were opening for the Foo Fighters in Milwaukee at the 105th annual Harley Davidson Festival (side note: I have never, ever, in all my life, seen the number of Harleys I did on that day. It was insane.) The crowd wasn't really there to see them, and I was one of the few people who sang along to every song. Despite the dead crowd, I have to applaud their efforts in this show. They still gave it everything they had. However, their show in Bloomsburg was definitely the better one. Being the headlining band really made a difference. They were also playing at night for this one, so they got to use the pyro and the lights, which really made for an amazing show. When I bought the tickets for the Bloomsburg show (yet another side nhote: I paid for both TDG shows, by working my butt off for the tickets. I handed Dad the money and proceeded to use his credit card to purchase them.), the website made it look like I was buying tickets fourth row from the stage. So imagine my dismay when I found out that no, it was not fourth row from the stage, it was fourth row behind track seating (the near footbal field length standing space). I was just this side of crushed. I tried to sweet talk some of the guards on the one side, all to no avail. I returned to my dad and our seats, dejected. So, Dad-with his desire to give me whatever is in his power to give- got us both up, and we went to the other side, to another guard, who was standing alone. He then proceeded to give the guy 20 bucks, and he let us through. This was just after the first third or so of the show, and we weaseled our way through to about 20 feet from the stage. Of course, I was on top of the world. One of the amazing thing about concerts, especially standing shows, is the energy. Concerts are such a release. Under few circumstances is it acceptable to scream at the top of your lungs, especially when your screaming things like "I hate everything about you, why do I love you?" or the lyrics to "Home." But at a concert, it's almost abnormal to not sing as loud as you can. I even cried a little as I sang along to "Never too Late," and "Home." After the show, we went up and asked the guys who were dismantling the stage if we could have something, anything. One of them gave me an extremely damaged set list (on which was some water, which I'm letting myself believe was from the drink that the lead singer took.). This inconsequential piece of paper is one of my most prized possessions. When we were walking back to find my stepmother and siblings, we saw Three Days Grace's tour bus, very badly guarded by a low fence, about ten feet from where we were. I walked right up to the fence and just stared at the tour bus. And, yeah, I cried again. Cause those people were so, so close. TDG is one of my two main tethers to life sometimes (the other being my amazing best friend). And it's just this earth-moving experience to know that they're such a short distance away. I'm totally joining the fan club and trying to meet them. If I do get to meet them, there's a very good possibility that I'll break down in tears and just keep repeating "Thank you," over and over, but I think they'd understand.

Endless Cycle.

I often have inspiration on feelings of falling.
Note: not the happiest poem ever.

I'm running in the dark,
terrified and blind.
Swooping feeling, I miss a step,
and I'm falling in my mind.

I reach out wildly.
Please, someone, a helping hand?
I cry as no one finds me.
No comfort when I land.

Crashing into solid ground.
Pain and hopelessness engulf me.
My hands find nothing; no one's coming.
I fix myself; I can't have pity.

Dust off my hands and wipe my face.
Time to climb back up again,
to find the light and things I love.
My life is on the mend.

The cycle will repeat again.
I run; I fall; I break.
Always solo, nothing changes.
No outside comfort for me to take.

We Have Forever

Poem I wrote:

We Have Forever.
We hold it in our hands,
you and i, young and restless.
For us the sands
of time cannot constrain.

"i could talk to you Forever."
"sure, babe. you want to? We can."
We own Forever, it is ours.
please, just take my hand,
and you and i will fly to the stars.

run with me Forever.
stay with me; don't ever leave.
We can leave the world in awe.
the power is ours; please believe
me. Forever is my gift to you.

you and i are infinite.
together We are strong.
our future's bathed in sunlight.
together We will run along
our path across Forever, babe.
they can't tell us that We're wrong.

Obsolete

Last year, I was given the new 8GB iPod Touch for Christmas. It had come out in late October, I believe, so it was a big deal.
today I was looking around at stuff on the interent, and I found out that all the iPods have been revamped. Again. So now my iPod is old. And it hasn't even been a year since the concept debuted! Now there's a few fancy new features, and you can get the 16GB for less than my 8GB cost. The same thing happened to the iPhone. That was about a year old, and then boom, iPhone 3G.
And I still love my iPod. It's still my best technologic friend. But I'm just starting to wonder how relevant my iPod will be in 5 years. No doubt it'll look to everyone as one of the old clunkers of the 2nd or 3rd- or even 4th for that matter- generation iPod classics do to us now. And it's sort of boggling my mind. Things are advancing so rapidly. There are minimal changes, but they happen so quickly, and we just accept anything less than them to be a thing of the past. And I can't tell if it's good or bad.

Invisible People

This is the first draft of a poem I wrote for a book I'm writing, a compilation of short stories and poems. I don't usually write poetry, so it needs some tweaking, but here goes.

i see invisible people every day.
no, that's not quite true.
we all see them.
but you don't notice; i do.
but really, they aren't hard to spot.
there may as well be a neon sign
over their heads.
look in the lunch line.
i see three.
glasses boy, next to you.
the girl in boy's clothes.
nose-in-book girl too.
they're everywhere. don't you see?
i was one, a while ago.
i succeeded in being invisible.
don't answer in class, even if you know
the answer. never meet their eyes.
look at the floor when you walk.
no one will notice you're hurt.
oh, and hardly ever talk.
but it killed me somehow;
it built up inside me.
so i worked, and i broke through.
keeping people out is easy.
but this was hard. deep breath,
head up, shoulders straight.
go on, say "hi."
they won't bite you, goddamnit.
for heaven's sake, look them in the eye.
and now this is how you see me.
i smile at everyone i pass.
people smile back.
they sit next to me in class.
and now you all know my name.
i've found someone to be.
this life is so much better
when i can just be me.
but that girl. at the corner table.
please tell me that you see.
she's there all alone.
it's just killing me.
i stare, and i make my decision.
at the front of the group, i steer
my friends to her table.
"hey, mind if we sit here?"