My Life as a Dave Fan

It's been over two weeks since the Dave Matthews Band final Fall Tour show for 2010. Most of the world probably has heard by now, the band is taking a year hiatus from touring, so this show had particular meaning to both the band and their fans. I had the amazing fortune to be able to see these two shows in the band's hometown of Charlottesville, Virginia.

When I first became a fan of DMB, I was a junior in high school. I had heard a lot of their hits on the radio like "Crash,""Too Much," and "Everyday," but it all changed when I was assigned to make a music video for a video production class I took in high school. I didn't want to choose something mainstream, and I wanted a challenge. As I was shuffling through all the music on my computer, "Satellite" by The Dave Matthews Band started to play. From the first moment I heard Dave playing that instantly recognizable guitar lick, I knew this was it. I worked on the music video for a better portion of two weeks, spending (literally) hours listening and dissecting the lyrics, the rhythms, layers and musicality of the piece. I remember being frustrated because I couldn't actually figure out what the song was about, but there was definitely a point where I realized that it didn't actually have to tell a story. I began to love the song for it's syncopated rhythms, it's beautiful lyrics, words in combinations I had never heard before, and the rich, unusual textures the Dave, Carter, Boyd, Stefan and LeRoi played with such passion and emotion. By the time my video was finished, I was a DMB fan.

There was a point in my fandom where I shifted from casual listener to full-blown Dave-head. In 2007, my freshman year at the University of Washington, I was roommates with a fellow Dave fan. It took us a few weeks to warm up to each other, (the rest is history) but we instantly bonded over our love for the band that spoke so completely to us. I remember her having #41 (an obsession of both of ours) on repeat, listening over and over. I remember hearing the hauntingly beautiful last phrase, "Why won't you run in the rain and play and let the tears splash all over you." Even just remembering those words send shivers down my spine. We'd constantly have DMB on in our room, day and night. Then she went to The Gorge in 2008 for LaborDave Weekend. She texted me during #41 something along the lines of "This is blowing my mind. You are coming next year." A part of me was jealous, but I hadn't yet crossed the line of causal listener, so I was content spending Labor Day Weekend at Bumbershoot in Seattle. A couple of years go by, another album released, Big Whiskey and the Groo Grux King. I listened to this album obsessively, over and over and over again. I knew all the words to EVERY song. Still, that year I opted for Bumbershoot. However, that year at Bumbershoot was by far the most disappointing. The shows I saw were entertaining, but I was looking for more. I wanted an experience that I could give myself fully to, I wanted to be overtaken by the music, I wanted to be fully engaged and swallowed whole by the lyrics. So I bought tickets to see DMB at The Gorge in 2010.

The Gorge at sunset.

I was excited. I love The Gorge. I went to Sasquatch, another music festival in Washington, a number of years ago, so I thought I knew what to expect. My expectations were far surpassed. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who had the same deep connection to the band. All they wanted was to enjoy the music, drink good drinks, eat good eats and just be humans. We didn't have to worry about our jobs, other people at home, or even our lives.

We could just be the truest forms of ourselves.

Thanks to Chef Thomas for the great shots!

Then the shows. Three nights. In the most beautiful spot in the world. The band played no repeats, a feat unmatched by the band in previous years. They played songs I'd never thought I'd hear live. My obsession at the time, "The Dreaming Tree" was played on the first night. As a matter of fact, it was the second song! They played such rarities as "Out Of My Hands," "Loving Wings," and "Granny." They played some newer unreleased songs like "Break For It" and "Blackjack." It was a Dave fan's dream come true. By the time Sunday night's set was finished, I was elated. The experience of the weekend was enough to convert me to a full-blown Dave-head.

Coming home, back to real life, after that weekend was hard. The band had planned a one year hiatus in 2011, meaning the next time I'd get to see DMB live would be in 2012. This was unacceptable. The Fall Tour schedule came out and I knew I was going to see DMB one last time. It just so happened to work out that the last two shows of the tour in Charlottesville were the one's I could see. Charlottesville, the birthplace of the band, was a place I'd never been. Flying cross country to see a band seemed silly to many people I met at the airport, my friends and even my family. But I knew that the weekend would be another life long memory that I'd be sorry to have missed.

Crystal, Madeline, Dave, and Kimberly

While in Charlottesville, I had the amazing luck and good fortune to get the opportunity to meet Dave Matthews himself. I still have no idea how the perfect timing worked out to catch him while he happened to be at Blenheim Winery for the 15 minutes we were there. In case you're not aware, Blenheim Winery is owned by the Matthews Family and Dave has contributed by creating artwork for the labels on some of their bottles of wine. As a wine enthusiast, it made me excited to know Dave was involved with another aspect of my life that I am so passionate about. With a wait of only about 5 minutes, the man couldn't have been nicer. The picture of us is one I cherish and I can't help but to show it off! We even had a nice conversation about Seattle and how popular clutch wallets are.

We were far away, but thank goodness for 15x zoom!

The shows that weekend are literally indescribable. I know no words I can write will even come close to doing justice to the performance these men achieved in their hometown. I heard the two songs I was aching to hear, "Spoon" and "Halloween" on the first night. Both of these songs have been teased throughout the tour and "Spoon" hadn't been played for over 1,000 days (I know weird things like this). I was blown away completely. I knew the second night would have to top the first, but my small brain couldn't imagine how. I soon learned, in order to top a near perfect show, just play for 3.5 hours and have a double encore. Simple, right? I laughed, I cried, I screamed, I danced my little heart out. They opened with two songs very dear to my heart, "Satellite," which I described the significance of earlier, and "Proudest Monkey," a song that's lyrics resonate with me like no other song has. I often use those lyrics in "about me" sections. As a matter of fact, that is indeed the "about me" found on my blog! Later they played a version of "#41" with Joe Lawlor that left me speechless, jaw dropped to the floor. I was moved to tears when listening to Dave sing the haunting lyrics of "Digging a Ditch." Everyone in the crowd was shocked and immensely pleased to hear the long forgotten "Long Black Veil." He even played "The Christmas Song." The closed the encore with the ever fitting "The Last Stop," only to come back for a rousing second encore of "Ants Marching," the band's unofficial theme song. By the end of those 3.5 hours and bawling at his lyrical addition to "The Last Stop" when he sang so delicately and emotionally "Everything is going to be okay," I couldn't believe what I just experienced. It's safe to say, my life is forever dedicated to DMB.

Through joyful times, to deep depressions, the music of DMB has shaped my life in ways I never thought music could. My passion for the band is shared by many, and these people I feel a deep connection to. I only count down the days until I get to see the band again, putting to music the roller coaster that our lives as humans travel.

Writing through the years

I've always had a particular fondness for words. I remember so clearly the first day of 3rd grade when Mrs. Case introduced the first "Word of the Day." It was "essential." Part of me is amazed that I still remember this after well over a decade, but knowing the things my brain holds onto, it's not surprising at all.

When I was in middle school, I used to write short stories in little spiral notebooks with Lisa Frank or puppies on the cover. I'd never finish, but I almost always began with vivid imagery setting the scene for some adventure my protagonist would journey through.

In high school, I began writing a screen play, purely for fun, to capture the frivolity and fun of my teenage years. I wrote "Friends Abort" with help from two of my closest friends. Senior year, I shot the film, edited it and premiered it at a friend's birthday party to about a dozen or so of our friends.

Then I discovered the world of blogging. I'd write about what I did that day, something that was bothering me, a movie I just saw, or some grand epiphany. Another blog I write is dedicated purely to things that I hear people say that make me laugh.

This past summer, I took a short story writing class, partly for fun, partly to hone my skill as a writer. I wrote so many pieces I was proud of, but at the same time oddly protective. I loved to reread my stories, but I never really wanted to share them with the world. I was pushing myself as a writer and started to become self-consious of my work because I couldn't figure out where these stories were coming from in my head. In the past, I wouldn't write anything until I had a solid idea of what it was going to be about. In this class, I learned to just write. I stopped deleting and started to just let the words flow. Sometimes what I produced was utter shit, but sometimes it was brilliant.

Over the years that bring me to the present, I've struggled to actually finish any piece of writing I am truly proud of. I publish a blog post and I feel the urge to edit away or delete the thing altogether, or I start a short story but end up unhappy with the direction it flows, or I write a poem that I never want to see again. But I think this is just the curse of the writer. A writer spills her guts in everything she writes. It's personal, it's her voice, even if it's just a note on the whiteboard, directions on how to do something or a fictitious short story.

I think I have found solace in the fact that I'll never be happy with anything I write. It's never going to be perfect, but that's what makes it beautiful.

Universe Love Affiar

The universe loves me. In the past month, I have experienced a dizzying array of good fortune, incredible fun, deeply satisfying conversations, reuniting with lost friends, and musical bliss. It's hard for me to imagine a month before that being a depressed mess of a woman, cut off from the rest of the world.

I can't recall a time in my life prior to now where I have felt as free and fulfilled. Something dramatic has altered in the way I view the world and what is possible for my future. I can't tell you what exactly it is, I'm still trying to figure that out. 

I've begun to re-prioritize my life. I had to honestly and authentically ask myself what is important? Through some "soul searching" I've found a deep desire hiding inside to work towards the ultimate goal of owning a vineyard and eventually a winery. You should know, having this as a long term goal has made my life somehow seem so much more important. But at the same time, not so significant. I don't need to know exactly what I'm going to do after I graduate. All I care about is my dream and what I do in between is just the journey to the prize. And the journey is the fun, exciting part.

Lie In Our Graves

As my senior year in college has commenced, I have begun running a gauntlet of foreign emotions and stages in my life that have been confusing, terrifying, exhilarating and exhausting. I can hear the clock ticking as my moments as a "care-free" college student come to an end and I have subconsciously started jamming every waking moment minute trying to fulfill my college dreams, aspirations and experiences. The result of my panic has been, shall I say, interesting.

After coming off an indescribable high from experiencing (yes, it is indeed and experience) the Dave Matthews Band at the Gorge and a last minute mini-vactation to Chicago and Philadelphia, I was thrust back into the daily grind. Get up at six. Shower, get ready, catch the bus. Work. Class. Work. Home. Homework. Bed. Rinse and repeat. Almost immediately after starting this monotonous regimen, I fell into a emotionally draining depression.

What's important to know about me: I'm a generally enthusiastic, happy human being. Feelings of sadness and anger are fleeting and rarely stick around for more than even an hour. I have bad days, but never have I had a bad couple of weeks. I was unable to shake the feelings of sorrow, grief, and anger that clouded my mind every morning. It was a frightening experience and began to concern me after a week. But I kept my mouth shut. I suffered quietly until it was unbearable and to the point where I noticed I actually was missing out on the experience of even being alive. Gradually I started to talk about how I felt with the people closest to me and within a week I could feel the bad feelings start to melt away and replaced by my old self.

As I reflect on what it was that sunk me into a depression, I realized it was a sudden lack of human connection. I thrive off being with people and going from a relatively free schedule in the summer time to a rigid, busy schedule surrounding school, I cut myself off socially. I've never realized how important it is to be myself around those I love on a daily basis. I've started to think more and more about other people and what kinds of relationships I want with them, how to compromise to ensure we enjoy each other, and prioritize my life around my needs, then my desires.

With two months ahead of me booked solid with things to do, both fun and not so fun, I know the most important thing will be to celebrate every moment and experience it like it's new, even if I've done it a hundred times before. I'll be a tourist in my own life.

"I can't believe that we would lie in our graves, wondering if we had spend our living days well. I can't believe that we would lie in our graves, dreaming of things that we might have been." - DMB

Quick Update and New Blog

It's been a long and lonely two months without posting a blog. My sincere apologies! I've been hard at work with summer quarter and only one week remains, then I will be free for a month!

I've got tons of plans coming up; a trip to Sun Lakes with the whole extended family, Dave Matthews Band at the Gorge over labor day weekend and to wrap up September, a trip to Chicago and Philly. Hopefully I'll have my camera charged and ready to go and some blog posting will be in order.

This last weekend I spent with my good friends Madeline and Gwen in Walla Walla for some wine tasting.  I will post a separate post all about the trip so I won't give anything away now.

Finally, I've had this idea for months now and finally got it up and going yesterday. My roommate Madeline and I are avid happy hour goers and our favorite thing to get is nachos. We started testing out the nachos at all our favorite bars and came up with the idea to blog our adventures and rate the bars and nachos we taste along the way, complete with pictures! So I finally got that blog up and running. If you'd like to see it (which trust me, you will) follow the link --> http://old-dirt-hill.blogspot.com/

'Tis it for now.

Inspiration Dancing Nancies

Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and thank God that you're not who you were a year ago? Five years ago? Five months ago? Five minutes ago?

Thinking back on every moment, circumstance, event, the only conclusion I can come up with is thank God that happened. Sometimes life looked dull. Often it looked bleak. It walked the fine line between comedy and drama. But it's always interesting. It's always new.

I can let me past define who I am or I can live in the now, being totally present to who I am. Who I create myself to be.

I love who I am.

"Could I have been anyone other than me/
Then I look up at the sky/
My mouth is open wide, lick and taste/
What's the use in worrying, what's the use in hurrying/
Turn, turn, we almost become dizzy"

Bliss. Or something like it.

Have you ever found yourself in a moment of complete bliss? When the world drops away and all that's left is the being part of human being?

It's small moments like these I crave.

From getting lost in the complex musical stylings of DMB to running the third mile on the Burke-Gillman, I find these moments are what propels me through each day.

I recently experienced what I call bliss when I turned on Led Zeppelin, turned off the lights, shut my eyes and just began to write. I didn't look at the keys of my computer, the bright screen in front of me or anything else in the room. I removed myself from the world for a short moment and experienced myself being completely free, unconstrained in every meaning of the word.

Now, if only that could be every day, every moment, that would be true bliss.

My world, right now

Nervous.
Anxious.
Upset.
Frustrated.
Annoyed.
Stressed.

Sometimes I feel like he doesn't actually hear me. His brain hears the words that come out of my mouth, but he's not really listening. I don't know how to express it. It scares me to tell him how I feel, but it shouldn't. I know he gets me, he understands. But I resist so much really letting loose when I'm with him because I'm afraid of losing him. I know that won't happen, but that's what it feels like. It's stupid that I can't just say what I need to say because I know I'm capable of doing it, I just resist it. I sent him a text instead of calling him. I feel like a failure.

Thinking, listening, writing

Sitting here, in the darkness. Nothing but me, my computer screen and the melodic musings of Mos Def. There's a light from the kitchen. Other than that, nothing. It's nice. Nothing is nice. Like an escape from everything. The noise, the talk, the chatter. Nothing is quiet. Not quiet silent, but quiet like I can hear myself think, ponder. 

Thinking.

Listening.

Writing.

It's only everything I've ever wanted. A momentary pause from the game of life. Like getting to just be. Just be human. A spirit within a body. A ghost inside a machine. With eyes to see, ears to listen. A brain to think. Fingers to feel the keys click underneath my finger tips. Moments like these make me excited to be alive. Brimming with thoughts, ideas. What's in store for tomorrow? More living. More new. More wonder. It's good. It's only everything I've every wanted.