Well, I've been back from Portland for about two days now and still not feeling quite normal. I had just begun to feel restless about living at home, with not much social interaction and also not much work on a weekly basis, and then to be in a completely new and vibrant city, with so much newness to see and feel and do, and begin planning my future both with and apart from Brian, just kind of shoved me off the edge. Now I'm even more anxious for life to get moving again, so much so that I'm needing to force myself to enjoy the present.
The concert last night was good. It wasn't the kind of heart-stopping, emotional experience that every other Hanson show has been for me, and in some ways I think I'm getting too old for the frenzy that many other concert-goers experience when they're there. I arrived at 6:00pm, which was the time stated on my ticket, but the line was still wrapped around the parking lot. I stood behind two teenage girls in tank tops and jeans - it was roughly 45 degrees out. They shivered and jumped and wished they had kept their sweatshirts, which they had left in their car. Which was about 10 feet away.
Inside, I wanted to find a place to sit, but it was pretty packed already and I settled on a railing by the side of the stage - later on I would leave this post to go say hello to Stephen Kellogg, knowing I would lose my spot but realizing that I didn't really care where I stood. The place is so small anyway - I could see the stage from anywhere.
When Hanson came out I was somewhere near the back and while they were entertaining - truly performers, and energetic and this time with a cause (poverty and AIDS in Africa) - I couldn't help but feel like half of me wasn't there. I was anxious about a meeting with a temp agency I had this morning, about Brian getting home safely (he left earlier in the day), about the next three months of my life, about Portland. I felt more removed from the band than I ever have before, simply because my life has been too busy for me to keep up with their goings-on the way that other fans have.
They hosted a walk earlier that day - before every show they invite their fans to walk a mile barefoot with them as a reminder of how many children in Africa walk barefoot every day. I knew about these walks, but it hadn't crossed my mind to attend. I probably wouldn't have had time anyway.
After the show I contemplated staying to try to meet the band - the last concert I'd been to, I wasn't able to because of rain, and also because I needed to get on a train back to the city to work the next day. But it was cold outside, I didn't have another jacket, I was tired, and my allergies had begun to act up. I'd already met Stephen Kellogg - the prospect of standing around, sneezing, cold, and dealing with the throngs of girls who were sidling up to security guards and batting their eyelashes to get tips on when and where the band would emerge, was just too much for me to handle.
So I left and called Brian and went to Wawa instead.
I won't say that I'm not disappointed that my feelings have changed. I guess right now I just have a lot of other, more personal things to fill my head than to chase the fleeting attention of three people who won't remember my face after I turn away. They'll always be important to me, and the causes they're fighting for have invigorated my belief that their heads are truly in the right place. I'll settle for the idea that this is just another marker of growth for me - sometimes just the music is enough.
