...That's What She Said

Yes, Wayne Coyne... now I do.

In reference to my previous day's blog commentary, Melissa was right. The tide receded a bit and my "emotional connection with everything around me" certainly did awaken. I said I was ready to pull my finger out of the hole in the dam that had been containing my emotions, but I didn't realize that it was going to happen smack in the middle of hundreds of Flaming Lips fans. I was doing ok, more than ok... smiling and trying to absorb the joy passing from one friend to another as they bounced balloons back and forth during the pre-show. I thought I was on the verge of feeling happiness, but it was hard to tell after all the vodka that Ames so generously had poured into my diet coke at dinner. As the minutes passed and the alcohol buzz wore off, I found myself standing there as simply an observer and resigned myself to recording footage of the performance with my camera phone in hopes that I could relive the experience later on when my heart wasn't asleep. Then Wayne decided to share with us all why the audience at a Flaming Lips show was better then any other concert crowd before playing their final song. He stated that there were a handful of people in the audience that had something horrible happen to them this week and that they were here, surrounded by hundreds of happy people, full of love and energy... and that's how we were changing the world. Thank goodness the battery had died on my phone by that time because if not, I would have recorded the sound of my heart breaking. It didn't start with pins and needles, like what happens when your foot has been asleep and it starts to awaken. No, it just full on broke open and the contents streamed out of my eyes and onto my shirt. This continued on as everyone around me sang loudly, "Do You Realize... that happiness makes you cry, Do You Realize... that everyone you know someday will die... And instead of saying all of your goodbyes... let them know, you realize that life goes fast, It's hard to make the good things last, You realize the sun doesn't go down, It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round..." Lucky for me (since I absolutely hate exposing my emotions in front of strangers), the yellow confetti was pouring down upon us with hurricane-like force and I was hidden from the enthusiastically hopping fans to my left and right... and my friends who'd migrated in front of me were so enthralled with the show that no one turned to see me: finally grieving after weeks of not letting a single tear slip through the cracks of my sorrow barricade. This was all just the initial part of the proverbial dam breaking, however. There was a whole river just waiting to crash down on me... and after the two encore songs, I fled the third row of the pit while keeping my eye on the exit sign. I desperately needed to find Brian and get to my car... a safe place... away from strangers before the flood gates really opened up. So... if my friends left behind in the crowd wondered why I wasn't around to say good night and comment on the concert, I apologize. Mr. Coyne unintentionally made it a point to single me out and help me "realize"... and today I can honestly say that hurting never felt so incredibly wonderful.