Before the Main Act/After the Opener

So what did you guys think of the opening band?

They were pretty good.

They had a lot of hair. What was with that one guys' hair?

I think the band should've been called Hair.

What was the band's name? The Ugly Pants?

It's hard to come up with a band name, they're lucky to even have one.

What's your name?

I'm Nick

Amy.

I'm Shay. This is my husband Mike.

Hi.

Oh my gosh! Look at those cheek bones! Did you have plastic surgery?

Um, no.

How old are you guys?

28.

28.

Oh my gosh, you both look so much younger.

Thanks.

I'm 35.

Yeah, you can't tell. You look younger. I mean, I couldn't guess how old you were.

My husband, Mike, he's 31.

Oh yeah.

I just turned 35.

What's with LA? I'm from New York. We just moved out here. My husband has a project. We just ate at the Palm. So many famous people! We saw Kelsey Grammar.

I don't like that guy.

You don't?

I used to be a size 4, but my work has an expense account, so I'm almost a size 6, I'm eating so much. Where I'm from, North Carolina, I would be the skinny girl-

I thought you were from New York.

Oh, I lived there for six years. Before that I lived in North Carolina. Anyway, In North Carolina I was skinny, but here in LA...

Yeah.

Where are you guys from?

Uh, Orange County.

Really? Wow, you guys are real.

*exchange of glances*

Well, I was born in LA.

I don't like LA, I mean, I like the weather. But we're thinking of moving to Denver.

What do you do, close your eyes, take your finger and just point it at the map?

Yeah! I guess so!

Now all you have to do is live in Europe.

Well, I lived in London for a year.

You're 'from' London?

*Mike comes back with drinks. Shay has obviously had enough already. She is spilling melted ice on my shoe.*

Mike holds out a water

You just wanted a water, right?

*We all look at each other, probably the right choice, for Shay, water.*

A pause.

JUST KIDDING! Here's your vodka cranberry.

*He pulls the glass from around his back. He's juggling a beer, water, and vodka. More Vodka spills on my shoe.*

So, this is like, my favorite band, I've loved them for 8 years. How long have you guys liked this band?

Me, forever. Amy's new to the band.

I only like their old stuff. I mean, they never change, so, that's why I kind of don't like their new stuff. The Fawn, or The Biz. I hope they play stuff from those albums. Mostly they're just good background music.

They'll probably mostly play new stuff.

I hate that guy, Archer.

That's him right there.

*He was about 1 foot away from us, setting up his guitar.*

What's your name again?

Nick.

'Still Amy.

I'm Shay, and this is Mike.

Nice to meet ya.

Doesn't Sam have a sexy voice, it's so sexy but look at him. Eew. No one in this band is sexy.

There he is right there. (About five feet away)

Throughout the mellow show, she was yelling out Parasol! The song she wanted to hear. It was a very cool crowd. No one barely talked in between numbers. And here Shay was, yelling out "Parasol." It was funny/annoying. They played Parasol last.

That was good!

They played your favorite song!

I don't even think that's my favorite, that's your favorite! I like all the songs. The band is sexy.

My Greatest Fear

These days, when so many people are fearful of the things happening in our world, what with the economic crisis and all, I thought it appropriate to discuss my all time greatest fear.  Cockroaches.  I shudder at the thought.  I cringe at the thought.  My eyes well up with tears at the thought of these creatures.  No one likes them.  They annoy/scare/irritate just about everyone I know.  But I am phobic about them.  When/if I actually encounter one, my life is at its worst moment.  And I am always fearful that today is the day that I may see one again.

I have, luckily, only had a few incidences with them (roaches) over the past three years.  Orange County, Orange County is the place where I had to come to deal with the worst pest of all.  Back when I had two waitressing jobs, I worked a lot of double shifts and inevitably I was cranky all the time and usually in need of a bottle of wine to wind down when I got home.  That night Shaun was working and I was home alone at my old place.  I turned on Sideways, perfect movie to drink a bottle of Coppola Claret to, opened my wine, poured a little into my glass, set the bottle on the table beside me, leaned back on my couch and started the movie.  I sipped the wine.  Only about ten minutes into the film I noticed something black on my paneled living room wall.  It crawled higher up the vaulted wall.  I froze.  "Is that?"  I asked myself privately, "Is that a roach."  It was HUGE.  I think there was a shadow, but it was 2 1/2 inches long at least.  "Ok, " I reasoned with myself, "OK.  If you can see this thing, you are OK.  As long as you know where it is.  It's just sitting up on the wall.  No big deal."  I drank a little more Claret.  My heart started pounding.  I couldn't focus on the movie whatsoever.  I started sweating, scared, my heart was beating loudly.  "You can ignore it."  All of a sudden it jumped/flew across from the wall to the ceiling.  I SCREAMED.  I put my wine down.  I grabbed the phone, ran into the bedroom, and shoved a towel in the crack under the door.  I paced, tears streaming down my face.  "Goddamnit!  Why? Why? Why tonight!"  All I wanted was to relax and get drunk.  A quiet night alone.  I called Erinn.  She's good with bugs, she'll know what to do.  No answer.  I called my sister.  I was sobbing, she was worried, until she heard my predicament.  But she laughed and listened anyway.  "And the worst thing Samantha, is that my wine is out there and I really need a drink!"  I dared to open the door, run out, and grab the glass and bottle.  I went back in my room, talked to my sister and got drunk, scared shitless.  My biggest fear was born.

Over the next couple of years they crawled over a few times.  Luckily Shaun was there to collect them, kill them, or at least take them outside somewhere.  Always, whenever one appeared, they would crawl in under the crack in the door, I would panic, scream, cry and hide in my room until they were gone.

I bought some Raid, especially for roaches.  Clove scented.  But there isn't much that can actually mask the stench of bug spray.  And my second biggest fear is dying of poisoning from caustic household substances.   As if I could actually get to the Raid, grab the can, hold it and point at a moving target, all while shaking and crying.  But the Raid made me feel safe and when I was alone at night I would have it near me.  Just in case.

They are terrifying to behold.  Black, antennae everywhere, WINGS.  Their size compared to other household insects is incredible.  But their erratic behavior gets me the most.  They can move quickly.  

Shaun had seen a few here at our new place in Orange.  Over the years since my first encounter my phobia has grown into an ever present, all-consuming fervent thought.  Sometimes I can think about other things, usually not.  He would allude to one that he killed, in that special way he has, which is to tell me not to worry, but that scares me more.  "What!!!  One was here, where?  Did you catch it???!!!!"  And Shaun, whose annoyance with my phobia has grown along with my terror, will say: "Yes.  It's fine.  Don't think about it."

One night, in May, I was busy working on a scrapbook in my kitchen, for hours, quietly.  I went to throw some trash away, under the sink, and I noticed a roach.  I tore out of the kitchen.  My heart pounding.  What to do?  I HAD to finish that scrapbook that night, I was running out of time before my grandma's birthday party, I was to give it to her then.  Where was the Raid?  In the cupboard that the roach was crawling all over.  They are so bold as to crawl right on the spray meant to kill them.  Not that I could ever even use it.  I thought briefly about calling Maggiano's and telling them that it was an emergency and that Shaun was needed at home right away.  I couldn't actually do it though, Shaun would be mad.  I was crying, freaked out, in terror, so I called Raylene.  She may be home, she just lives down the street.  I left her a message telling her that it was an emergency.  I called Erinn.  She answered.  I know that she's all the way in Wisconsin, but as she is somewhat of a bug expert, I told her the situation, tears streaming down my face, choking back sobs.  Just her sensible voice calmed me.

"What do I do?" I said.

"They respond to noise, vibrations in the floor."

"So, when I screamed at the top of my lungs, do you think it heard me?"

"Yes, and I'm sure it was more scared of you than you are of it."

"I don't think that's possible," I sobbed.

How is that supposed to reassure me? I've never been so terrified of anything in my entire life.

To know that the roach is scared too, well, that does nothing for me.  I realize that the both of us are operating on adrenaline when we come in contact with one another, no good.  He's scared, I'm scared, nothing rational is going on, it's chaos.

I had to go, because Raylene was calling, and I had told her it was an emergency.  She came right from work.  By then the roach had gone.  Raylene looked for it, to kill it with the Raid, but it had escaped.  She stayed with me and we talked all night until Shaun came home.

Shaun had a suggestion for me "Why don't you read a book about roaches.  You used to be afraid of spiders until you read a book about them.  You used to be afraid of Mormons until you read a book about them."  My response: "If I had a book about Roaches in here, I would never get any sleep.  I would look at the pictures and stay up all night with anxiety."

They crawl in my medicine cabinet.  I suspected they were in there.  But Shaun found one in there yesterday in the daytime.  That's just great.  Where can I go?  I am never safe.  Before, they were nighttime creatures.  I would encounter them at night.  But now, with this daytime run-in, how can I be sure that I won't see one in the day: my safe haven?

At night they haunt me.  In the day they nag me.  I've only seen 9, maybe, over the past three years.  But it doesn't matter if I never see another one.  There's nothing that I can do.  So I sit here, this evening, feeling the light change outside.  The sun is going down (not that it matters what time of day it is apparently) and I begin to feel the fear.  Can of Raid by my side, that I'll hopefully not need, but it's here to protect me, until Shaun gets home, from my greatest fear: the cockroach.

Trash

Ever since I can remember, there has been trash on the side of the road.  On the side of freeways.  "Litter" is another name for it.  No one is supposed to litter, but millions of people do, and when I was young I would sit in the back of my parents mini-van, on our way to LA on the 91 or some other freeway, and look out the window.  On the banks beside the freeway there was usually some landscaping, maybe some sprinklers sprinkling reclaimed water. And peppered throughout the oleander and the iceplant was litter.  As a child it seemed natural to me.  And over the years it has become a symbol of Southern California.  I myself have never littered, I swear.  But the litter spread around the out-of-doors seems right to me.  Good even.

As a girl scout we would have to pick up trash after a camping trip or an all day event.  It was always a nuisance to do that.  But I took it to heart that: one should not leave thy trash strewn around.  My mother instilled the idea in my head that people who threw trash outside their car windows were, "Low-life scum.  Losers.  Idiots."  They didn't care about the planet, anything or anybody.  Why did people just toss a cup out of the window?  Because they were driving through Lake Elsinore?  Because they think Ontario is ugly anyway, what's another bag of old hamburgers?  With our church we would have whole Saturdays where we went to public places and picked up trash for community service hours.  It was brutal.  We would each fill up a couple of trash bags full of wrappers, soda cans, soda bottles, chip bags.  Those were the days we dreaded. But like with girl scouts, I took my job seriously, and I felt pride in cleaning up. Cleaning is very satisfying.  

When I moved to Washington state for a few years, right away when I drove in I noticed that there was very little, if any, trash on the side of the road.  It was beautiful!  That state is amazingly clean.  Of course, it rains all the time, so the trash is probably washed into the storm drains or something.  But actually, Washingtonians care about their surroundings.  We walked around Bellevue, a city where I lived, a lot, and there wasn't any trash on the side of the road. Everything was spic and span.  And there was actual foliage everywhere, not just dirt with a few oleander and iceplant watered with reclaimed water.  And in between the trees were small ferns and moss. No fast food refuse.

Every time I would return home for a visit, I would thrill at the smog, open skies, trashy strip malls.  Sigh.  How I've missed California, I would think.  When I would fly out of LAX, I would tear up at the decaying fast food bags, crumpled up next to Marlborough Light boxes and Coke cans next to the freeway off-ramp.  Goodbye for now.  I'll see you when I get back.  

I did come back, and re-assimilated myself to the garbage culture.  And it wasn't until my visit to Madison, WI, that I remembered how a place could actually be clean.  I walked all over that town and saw two pieces of trash total!  What a clean place!  People care!  They listened to their mothers here!  Amazing!  It is a really great place, I was completely smitten with it after my brief visit.  What a clean place.

But when I got off the plane at LAX and stepped out of the airport, I smelled the thick smoggy air, saw some litter on the side of the freeway and rejoiced!  I am home at last.  For no matter how much I can admire such clean, pristine places where people have pride in their environment, I am, at heart, a Southern California native.  And I have pride in, yes, the strip malls, the freeways, the traffic, and the trash.  I don't condone littering, but it's a fact of our lives, and somehow, it's a part of me.  I couldn't live anywhere else.  Just me, Shaun and the highway litter.  We'll drive off, into the gorgeous sunset, on the freeway, and speed by the trash on the side of the road.

Detroit

One night, about a year and a half ago, Ryan called us.  Not unusual, he calls often.  He asked if we would go with Raylene, Nick, Olivia and himself to a club and see a band.  And to everyone's surprise, Shaun and I said "Yes."  Because as you may or may not know, we aren't known to go out and do stuff that normal 20-somethings do.  We had just left Mimi's where we had eaten dinner at the counter, like old people do.

We went home, because the show wasn't until 10 or 11, and we had some time to kill, so I surfed through MySpace, which was new to me then.  And I was getting depressed.  Everyone's so cool.  Some are too cool; some are arsty; some were cool in high school (and still smug about it); some flaunt their intelligence.  Everyone wants to be noticed- I get it.  Of course I'm the one spending my time looking at all of these pages.  And wondering if my life compares to the fun times all of these people are having.  Should I add more pics of me with sunglasses on, holding a margarita and wearing a bikini?  But I'd have to get the glasses, bikini, and the bikini body from somewhere.  My prospects for online coolness were very low.  Alas, I could not give in completely to the MySpace party.  Once again, I was a voyeur, pouting on the sidelines.

And then on the way to the club, I was riffing about "Locks of Love" and how I'm sick of people growing their hair out for that cause.  And how you are supposed to act like it's such a big deal when they do it.  Not that I'm against the actual organization.  I want little girls with cancer to have beautiful wigs they can be proud of.  I'm tired of the women I know who donate it.  It's like they can't wait to talk about it.  Like, I'm supposed to say how lucky some girl would be to get their disgusting ratty hair.  "Oh, why did you cut your hair?"  "I donated it to locks of love."  As if growing hair isn't something that you do anyway, like they have reinvented the charity wheel.  I had decided to cut all of my (then) long hair off and throw it away.  Because I'm evil.  

As we pulled up to this trashy old strip mall in Costa Mesa--now where coolness is born--to a hipster place "Detroit."  Or was it "The Detroit?"  I think it was just "Detroit," which is cooler.  We arrived first and looked around.  It was spare, remodeled, but funky.  Despite myself and my soaring negativity levels, I liked it there.  This bar/club in between a donut shop and a restaurant with the simple heading "Mexican Restaurant."  

Sadly, due to an unfortunate drunken escapade, my normal drinking abilities were on hiatus, so only water for me.  Ryan, Raylene and Nick came in, to my relief.  We did our best to talk amidst the noise of the two opening bands who were good...but not great.  And we talked about movie stars, or at least known actors who have fairly famous bands now.  The list is long: Keanu Reeves, Jered Leto, Jenna Malone, Jenny Lewis, Kevin Bacon.  All that shit annoys me.  I'm tired of our Celebrity culture.  Isn't one career enough for you people?

Olivia came and it was growing harder and harder to hear, so we broke off into twos.  Nick and I talked about old memories mostly.  And I was drawn back in to those high school days.  All of the intense feelings of inadequacy came flooding through me without the liquor induced haze. I looked around, and just like high school, felt out of place in this club, meant for people who know things about being cool.  But out of nowhere the DJ played "The Kids in the Hall" theme song and I could relax a bit.  Being able to place random trivia is an essential part of the hipster crowd, and I felt maybe they wouldn't throw me out after all.

When "The Helio Sequence" started, we all went over to the stage to watch.  They were great,I was truly glad to have watched them play.  Inspiring to Shaun and me, for different reasons.  And strange to have Shaun with me at a show, usually he the one I'm there to see.  Ryan and Nick fully come to life at a concert.  They are music fanatics.  I was amazed at how they lost themselves in the performance, even without psychedelic drugs. Shaun and I were awkward, a little.  We couldn't lose ourselves.  Apparently, I need drugs.  And I was sober.  And hyper-aware of all the hipsters.

Hipsters: they have dirty (but incredibly styled to look that way) hair.  Their hair can be longish or shortish, depending on their career.  Facial hair (males) if possible.  They wear tight, low-riding, expensive girlish jeans.  Skinny jeans.  Flat shoes.  A dirty looking T-shirt and a warm-up jacket.  And maybe a hat, like an army cap.  Glasses.  And a "man satchel."  A cool camera, an amazing phone.  Girlfriend: skinny, ineffectual looking, brown/shaggy hair style, skinny jeans also, simple tank top, cool shoes.  She wears all muted colors, except maybe fun shoes.

And by the way, you must have an opinion on everything to do with music, movies, TV, art, books (in that order).  Drink beer.  A mellow high.  Have some kind of an art based education too.  In my nerdish outfit, jacket, lipstick, blonde hair look I felt horribly out of place.  I may have the opinions going, but Shaun and my, our, "look" is completely wrong.  Our clothes matched (not matching outfits) and the cost of our outfits wasn't nearly expensive enough.  Shaun has no cel phone and mine was the Nokia freebie.  And I was too sober not to worry about how I'll never be cool.  But how I could never just give in to nerdsville either.  And I missed having a best girlfriend.  Watching Raylene and Olivia, I was envious of their friendship and I missed Erinn and Annie.  We all fit together somehow.  I had all of this blonde hair and stood out.  And hipsters seem to blend in with each other.

So, I don't fit in.  But, I have Shaun.  So that's pretty good.  And the band was good.  I could put that night down  on my coolness resume and impress some hipsters with it someday.

Ryan was in heaven.  And the next day he called and said how happy he was that we came out and went to the show. He said it was just like college, when he and Nick would go see bands all the time and life was good.  He was so happy that we all had this spontaneous evening and we all liked the band. And even though inside that day I was all nervousness and worrisome, looking back on that night, Ryan was right.  We did have fun.  And next time I'll have a couple beers.  

More on me

So, I have another theory.  But this one is actually comforting to me.  The theory is that there are two types of people in this world, or at least in my world. 

1. People who are cool, and 2. People who are geeks.  

Cool people can simply get through the day.  They like things, they may have some hobbies.  They probably work out, take care of their bodies.  They live life in moderation.  What's cool about them is that they actually can handle life.  They assess those around them with accuracy and they are helpful to their friends.  Of course they have emotional times, but these times aren't their driving force.  They have answers.  Life isn't mysterious.  It is simply life.  There are the normal things to work out, jobs, living arrangements and all of that, but if a person is cool they handle these things well.  They are not neurotic.  They have the potential to be happy with life, but would never flaunt it energetically.  They are self-contained, self-satisfied and I believe to be content with existence.

Geeks are not cool.  Nothing about them.  They could be admired from like-minded others, or even cool people.  But they are never cool.  They are fanatics.  When they love something, they know every last detail.  They collect their favorite things.  The keep track of what they care about.  They may not know everything about everything, but when it comes to pet subjects, there isn't a fact that they can't quote.  And when geeks meet up together, their energy is palatable.  Arguing, excitement, comparing, contrasting usually goes on.  Geeks know way too much trivia.  They have a harder time getting their lives together, maybe because they are too busy studying, I don't know.  The worst thing is that a lot of times I think they try to portray coolness and they fail.  Are they happy in their bodies?  Maybe not. 

Obviously, I am a geek.  I have pet subjects, which I am proud to know a lot about.  Astrology, Disney, MST3K, Elvis.  Gosh.  Reading these back to myself is kind of embarrassing, and there are so many more subjects that I simply can't get enough of.  I don't ever LOOK good, because I spent way too much of my life reading or watching movies.  And not having all the information about some nerdy thing that I care about kills me.  I have to know everything.  About people that I love, I wonder: What makes them tick?  When is their birthday? Why do they make those  choices?  And on and on.  I get hurt by people.  If I were cool, people couldn't get to me the way that they do.  I take things personally.

Shaun is cool.  Raylene is cool.  There is no other word for me to use but that.  Yes, I have witnessed moments of craziness from them, but generally their lives are well maintained and enjoyed.  Getting through a day, for me, is like an obstacle course, with wild emotions, frustrations etc.  And in group settings, I'm completely wild with delight because I'm an extroverted geek.  I want to tell stories about things, make announcements, talk about important issues, all with overwhelming intensity.  That I cannot control.  Shaun has the ability to be casual.  Yes, that's it.  That's part of the coolness, being casual.  I think a lot of the geeks that I know can't be casual.  It's all or nothing, which gets them hurt.  

Some people are hybrids of the two, different situations bring out different sides.  But after four years of trying my hardest to be cool, failing miserably, and feeling miserable because I internalize everything, I surrendered to my geeky side.  This was yesterday.  And I am so much happier.  I may never feel completely comfortable, easy, simple, satisfied.  But I have all of my pet subjects to keep me going, bouts of mania for others to enjoy, and a renewed sense of self.  Yes I've wandered through the valley of coolness, at Shaun's side.  But I was never given even a guest pass. 

And I can, from the vantage point of geekville, admire and enjoy the cool people.  I will think about what they could be thinking about and wonder what makes them tick.  All the while knowing that they will never spend much of their thoughts on me.