i used to (part one)…

…go to concerts by myself all the time, when i lived in california. i would venture to guess that out of 100 live shows, i went to 60 of them singularly. i’m guessing that i went to 20 shows with p***a, 10 shows with k***y, 5 shows with r**h, and 5 shows with m*****n. 

my god, i had forgotten what it was like, to go for me…because i wanted to. i’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, over the last couple of days, with my first singular concert appearance (approaching), since 1995 (22 years), when i went to soma (in san diego) and saw hole, with veruca salt.

my parents were incredibly strict. they didn’t approve of anything other than what they deemed to be “appropriate.” they favored christian music and labeled everything that was “inappropriate,” as secular. we were only allowed to listen to what was in their record “collection.” our options weren’t very good.

my dad loved tchaikovsky’s, 1812 overture. when he played it, the whole house shook and the floor vibrated…as the canons were fired. my mom loved the carpenters, karen carpenter, was her idol (voice-wise and eating disorder-wise). she used to turned them on and sing at the top of her lungs.

my parent’s music collection included: tchaikovsky, the carpenters, the bill gaither trio, herb alpert and the tijuana brass, kenny rogers, sandi patty, amy grant, michael w. smith, dennis agajanian (we went to church with him), and barbra streisand (but, they tossed her when she was labeled a “liberal.”).

my parents knew that i loved “secular” music and told me that i wasn’t allowed to go to any concerts, until i turned 18. i dreamed, hoped, and planned for that day. i waited and waited, until the appropriate time. and then as fate would have it, the powerstation, announced a date in san diego…for the day after…

…my 18th birthday…july 24, 1985. i loved the powerstation, which was a conglomeration of duran duran (john and andy taylor), robert palmer, and tony thompson (chic). they were playing at what ended up being one of my favorite venues, the san diego state university open air theatre.

it was my first concert. i didn’t have a girlfriend. i was 18…newly “adult” and ready to start having “adult” experiences. i was very independent and it never even occurred to me that i would want, or need someone to go with me. the 18 year old me thrived on doing everything herself.

that me, soaked everything up like a sponge…all of the things that had been deemed as “inappropriate” and banned from me…suddenly, became attainable, explorable, and very enjoyable. that me, wanted to grab everything up, hold onto it, protect it, and not share it with anyone else. 

that me, wanted to keep her new found freedom, experiences, and activities all to herself. she wanted privacy above all else, because she was still only 18 and had to get through three more years, until 21. that me, walked a very fine line between total rebellious freedom and indentured servitude.

that me, knew that at any moment, all of those new things that she loved and valued so much, could be ripped away…for any reason…an objectionable concert t-shirt, a neighbor’s opinion, a story on the news, a bad attitude, a perceived “evil look,”or any evidence of “secularized” behavior.

that me, knew that adding another person to an already chaotic situation, was just like tempting fate. it was another person to explain, another story to synchronize with, and technically a big vulnerability, just waiting to be exposed, exploited, or tricked into “spilling the beans.”

that me, knew that her parents hated her lifestyle and looked for any excuse to change it, to change her. that me, knew how to live two lives and keep them separate, without compromising either. that me, knew how to handle herself and her “handlers.” that me, couldn’t trust someone else to not fuck up.

***that being said, i’m tired of this subject and will finish tomorrow, by talking about my singular experience of last night…which was very good!!…but apparently, i’ve struck a very raw nerve and made myself really irritated…the “denial” in me is tempted to say, “i don’t know what happened.”…but, that would be a lie. so, the “avoider” in me is taking over and officially avoiding this subject, until tomorrow.***


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