LESTAT Peabody’s Down Under November 24, 12

Well, Neurotics, I promised change, and change you shall have.

First of all, let’s recap for those just joining us.  I am a neurotic.  I have GAD, OCD, phobias, panic disorder, and major depressive disorder.  These “afflictions” have been present in my life in some way, shape, or form since … well, probably forever, but I was diagnosed when I was 14.  I am now going on 32.

For the last four years, these issues have grown in intensity.  I am terrified of dying.  Well, to be honest, I am terrified of everything, but the dying thing is what we are talking about today.  Anyway, this fear has been so intense that it interrupts my life.

I quit shooting concerts due to fear.  I stopped shooting everything due to fear, actually.

I’ve come to the realization that I will die.  I am not immortal like I felt I was when I was in my 20s.  I WILL die, and that will suck.  So, I have to acheive immortality in some other way.  Art.

That said, I emailed Evan of Lestat and asked if I could photograph their show on 11/24.  He said that I could.  The day of the show, my brain tried every tactic to talk me out of going.  I didn’t listen.  And that is HUGE.  But, enough about me, without further ado, some of the fruits of my labor:

Petals and Thorns opened up the show in their debut live performance.  I definitely enjoyed their set, and I recommend checking them out if and when you find yourself in Cleveland.

Next up came Bath.  I’ve seen these guys play once before, and I didn’t know who they were.  Never found out, actually, until last night.  You know when you keep hearing a band on the radio and you love the song, but the DJ never tells you who they are?  That’s about how this one went for me, except it was at a show.  If you like electronics and you like music, these are your guys.  I caught myself dancing, and I’m not dancey, so that should tell you something.

The Azoic came up next.  Remember that thing I said about not being dancey? Out the window.  They have a video coming out on YouTube soon, you should definitely check them out.

Also, I must add here that when Evan came out on stage during The Azoic’s set to sing “Obsession”, Melissa damn near peed her pants.  “I will have you, yes I will have you…”? Uh, yeah, you already do.

I’ve been a fan of Lestat since high school.  I used to doodle LESTAT in big gothic letters on my homework folders. 

Unfortunately, I never saw them live back then.  So, of course, you can imagine my joy and exuberance when, out of the blue, I looked them up in my Rhapsody app and found Vision of Sorrows, the album I loved in high school.  This prompted me to look them up on the Google and I found that they were putting out a new album!  Well, great timing, huh?  It was fate!  Anyway, I went to their CD release show earlier this year.  Yup, back in love with Lestat.  I vowed to shoot them.  And, well, as I suppose you’ve gathered, my time came on 11/24.

Seeing Lestat live is definitely something that can only be experienced and not described, for how do you explain Evan’s sultry dancing?  How do you describe Susan’s otherworldly presence?  Yeah. You can’t.  Shakespeare couldn’t write about it, and neither can I.  If that doesn’t make you want to experience it, I don’t know what will.  Of course, this is my first time writing about a show experience, so I don’t know how much convincing you readers will actually need. 

There is something … how to describe it … dark.  Aggressive, yet ethereal, mystical … erotic … about Lestat’s music.

So, I promise I will work on my descriptive writing skills for future posts.  In the meantime, go to www.lestatmusic.com and get obsessed.

 

Special thanks to the bands for putting on a fantastic show, and I hope all my readers enjoy.  Please, by all means, share with your friends!

Lucero show causes MAJOR steps toward recovery…

First of all, I want to lay down a back story for those just joining us.  I have a few phobias (HA! … few …), two of which being social anxieties and emetaphobia.  More on that:

Social anxieties: I have to drag myself to things.  I can’t just grab my keys and walk out of the house on my way to events.  There is a process involved in everything from concerts to going to the gas station.  I can’t describe it, I don’t know why it happens, but I have to convince myself to leave the house.  Last night, I had to convince myself (after the craptastic day I had running around trying to get my damn phone fixed again), that I didn’t just want to go to the Lucero show in Toledo (two hour drive from Cleveland, for those non-local readers), I NEEDED to go to the Lucero show.  This fight usually starts the morning of an event that I’ve agreed to go to.  I wake up in the morning and think “why did I agree to go?”, “How can I get out of it?”, “What excuse can I use so that I don’t have to tell _______ why I am not going?” and so on and so forth in that way.  This goes on all day.  Eventually, I begrudgingly shower and dress, put on my makeup, etcetera, until I am ready to go, and then I will sit and tell myself repeatedly that I DO want to go, and after long last I either pick up the phone and bail or I grab my keys and make myself leave.  It sucks.

Emetaphobia: The fear of vomit.  I developed this phobia around the time that I was diagnosed with GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease, or acid reflux).  I felt like I was going to vomit 24/7 because of the amount of stomach acid I was producing.  I stopped eating, bordering on an eating disorder, because I was terrified that I was going to vomit.  It sounds silly, but it’s true, I would rather take a bullet than vomit.  No joke.  This has caused me many problems for many reasons.  First and foremost, my fear of vomiting was leading to a fear of eating, and I was only ingesting white foods, things that wouldn’t be too disgusting to see when it came back up.  I wasn’t eating more than 600 calories in any given day because I was scared of having a lot of food in my guts to throw up.  I ended up losing 50 pounds from that.  My acid issues, I have found, are directly related to my anxieties, so regulating the anxiety is the only way I can regulate the feeling that I am going to throw up.  One other MAJOR reason that this causes me such issue is because I am terrified of my little cousins.  Yep, again, dumb.  Kids are disease carriers, anyone who has kids knows this.  When I hear that one of them is sick, I freak out and start thinking of the last time I was exposed to them and whether I was going to catch it.  Yep.  It hurts me that I am so scared to be around them, but I can’t stop it.

SO … backstory having been laid, here’s the story of my night last night with Lucero:

My friend Tony drove.  The entire day leading up to leaving for the show, I was terrified that I was going to be car sick.  I never have been before, but I figured now is as good a time as any, right?  And knowing my luck, today would be the day.  So, of course, the little black monster that is anxiety was telling me not to go to Toledo because 2 hours in a car is entirely too long.  I can usually use my brain to convince myself that I am going to be sick to the point where I gag, so thank goodness I managed to keep that under control!  We made it to Toledo with no car sickness.  I was terrified the entire ride, however, but I talked for the entire 2 hours to keep my mind off the terror.  I’m sure Tony hates that about me, seeing as I never seem to shut up because anxiety makes me word vomit.

We met up with Deb, one of my favorite people in the whole world, and we had a great time catching up, laughing, enjoying ourselves.  I had a few beers, and I was starting to loosen up.  I felt good.  Not only that, I am convinced that one of the opener’s fly was open, which made us all giggle for a while.  I enjoyed the 2 opening bands a lot, so when we positioned ourselves up front and center, I felt good.  I felt so good, in fact, that I subconsciously told my social phobias to suck it by approaching Lucero’s drummer to tell him how much I admired him as a drummer.  I wanted Roy Berry to know that Melissa Jeffrey loved his drumming skills.  Whether Melissa Jeffrey’s social phobias liked it or not, Roy Berry was going to hear that.  And I did it.  It took some convincing in my own head, but I did it.  I felt good afterward.  I think the beer had something to do with that … I was still on the edge of panic because of all the people, and I was convinced that at some point I was going to trip, or get knocked down, or worse, throw up.  It never occurred to me to worry that I might get thrown up on.

Lucero hadn’t even started their first song when the guy next to me threw up on me.  Now, the emetaphobic in me was screaming to run for the hills, but the Lucero fan in me was screaming that I had prime real estate right below Ben (the singer), and if I gave up my spot, I was going to regret it.  Anyway, I feel the warm wetness on my arm, I smell the smell, and I hear Ben say “OOH!”, and I know what happened.  My body lit up like a Christmas tree, my stomach got weak, my legs stiffened, ready to run.  The smell was overpowering.  I didn’t have time to think before the guy hurled on me again.  You know that hot rush you get when you have an orgasm?  I got that hot, tingly flash all over my body.  I started to sweat, my skin crawled, my spine tingled, it was the beginning of a panic attack.  My hand shot up to my nose and I covered it in horror.  I couldn’t smell it, or I would throw up, too, and I couldn’t have any of that.  Ben leaned forward about that time and told me to see Mary at the merch table and I could get any one thing I wanted for free.  I nodded, he stood back up to the mic and announced that I had been puked on.  At first, I was mortified that he pointed me out to the crowd, but then he made it funny and I raised my hand so everyone could see that I was, in fact, the recipient of the stomach contents.  It took three songs for me to return to a state of somewhat calm, and it wasn’t until the overwhelming stink of vomit was diluted by the stink of sweaty bodies that I was able to pay attention to the show instead of what my mind was screaming at me.  I managed to tell emetaphobia to suck it, and that is a MAJOR step for me, as this and the peanut phobia are the two biggest ones that remain.

I was worried from the moment we showed up at the venue that I was going to embarrass myself by bursting in to tears when they played Nights Like These.  Let me explain: if the gender roles were reversed, I could be singing this song to the former best friend.  “I’ve only got this one wish, that I was good enough to make you forget the only boy (bitch) who ever broke your heart (and made you feel guilty throughout OUR entire relationship), ’cause nights like these tear me apart”, and of course, “she had a weakness for writers and I was never that good at words anyway” because former best friend was a “writer”, and I quote that because I have never read any of his writings, which I have already beat myself up for in a former post, so I won’t do it again here.  Anyway, the little black monster (anxiety) was laughing at me when I started to cry when they played this song because the chick next to me was staring at me and I swore that Brian (guitar) and Ben were also staring at me like I was a tool.  Now, I know that Brian and Ben weren’t, and I was probably overananlyzing that, but at the time, the little black monster was telling me that they were laughing at me.  That upset me.  I’m not sure why, because you’d think that they would be enthralled that someone was touched enough by their songs that they would openly cry over them … I don’t know, I’m battling with rational and irrational right now.  

Fast forward to the end of the show, because I managed to fight, and even FORGET the panic for the rest of the show!  I mean, it was there, but I wasn’t at it’s mercy, and that was such a huge step.

End of show.  We approach Ben and wait our turn to get my photo taken with him, because the one that I got of us (and Brian) at the show I went to in April with little sis Pupster wasn’t enough 😀 We took our photo

Me and Ben:

and he asked me if I had been to the merch table to see Mary yet.  I said that I had not, so he took me to the table and told Mary that I was puked on and I was to get any one thing I wanted for free.  Well, I had already visited the merch table before I got puked on, but, let’s face it, there is ALWAYS Lucero merch that I want.  Before I could make a choice, however, Tony says to him “She’d rather have the shirt you’re wearing.”  Now, I know I didn’t overanalyze the look of “OMG you stalker!” that Ben gave me.  But, in true Lucero fashion, he told me to ask Mary for the gray shirt with big blue letters that reads LUCERO MEMPHIS TN (the same shirt I got for myself earlier), so I got it for him, he took off his shirt and gave it to me.  I squeed. 

Now, I know what I said, and it is what I wanted to say, it was what I meant: “thank you!” but my mind told me that he heard “Dude, I got puked on, which had absolutely nothing to do with you whatsoever, but in restitution for being puked on, I want your DNA laden tee shirt.”  I freaked out a little bit, I told Tony on the way home that I hope Lucero doesn’t avoid Ohio on all future tours because of the psycho blonde chick that wanted Ben’s tee shirt. 😀

Here’s the thing: Lucero is a band that loves their fans.  Plain and simple.  They are humble.  They are amazing.  They are the best band that a lot of people aren’t getting the opportunity to hear, and that makes me sad.  Head over to www.luceromusic.com and see if they are coming to a town near you, because I may be a little biased since I already adore them, but I can guarantee that you will have a great time!  Ben Nichols is a genius with words (although he claims that he isn’t in Nights Like These), and a genius with music.  Every one of them is amazing.  I know that the word “awesome” is so overused that the meaning doesn’t hold as much weight as it used to, but I revoke the overuse of the word and I tell you that you will be awe struck by these guys.  I can’t believe that they aren’t bigger than they are, and I hope that they receive every success in the world.

Anyway, on to the recovery.  A month ago, if someone had puked on me, I would have panicked and wanted to die.  No joke.  These small victories in my life don’t significantly change the course of my life or my diagnosis, but when I take these and compile them, I gain strength each time.  As a matter of fact, Lucero is a major part of my recovery from this on more than one level.  When someone hurts my feelings, or when something happens to me that causes me some heartbreak, I sing Can’t Feel a Thing.  The song has nothing to do with panic, but it helps me.  Sometimes.  Sometimes it doesn’t.  Regardless, when it works, it works, and that’s all I can ask for at the time. 

There are so many people who say that Lucero’s music speaks to them on a level that no other music does.  Ben knows how to tell a story.  Ben’s been hurt.  Ben speaks to people.  If I ever get a chance again, I want to ask him how he feels about that.  How does it feel to know that so many of your fans are your fans because of your ability to speak to them in this way?  I only wish I had that kind of talent.  How must it feel to know that you have had such an impact on so many people?  Amazing.

Anyway, these small victories keep me going, and in fact, I had the time of my life last night.  I had an issue a few days ago with a person whom I trusted talking shit about panic disorders.  This is a person whom I thought understood that I can’t help it when I feel this way, that I don’t want to live this way, that I am trying like hell in the only way I know how to beat this thing, and I trusted them.  And they betrayed my trust by talking shit.  I will admit, I was depressed about that.  Very depressed.  I have been very low lately.  Last night changed that.  My “internal light” that everyone keeps telling me that I’ve lost … I felt it light up last night.  I felt human for the first time in a LONG time.  

I know that I have the strength to beat this thing.  I showed that last night.  I can do it.  Some days I will be weaker than others, but the more I am made aware of the strength, the more strides I will make to getting my life back.

Me and Brian:

 

 

Me and Rick:

Me and Roy:

I am missing John C.  😦  He is so elusive!  LOL Next time, John C. … I’ll get you next time … (she says sounding more like a stalker than she did at the show LOL)

The awesomeness of healing salted wounds…

Well then.
I saw the Turtle in passing yesterday and I am pleased to say that the salt is gone, the blood, coagulated. The wound is scabbed over. Even picking at the scab yesterday didn’t reopen it.

Anyway, this little metal guy is the reason the Turtle is thusly named.  A little history:

Apparently, the Turtle was camping once upon a time and everywhere he turned, this metal turtle was there, as though it was following him. I’m not sure how I came to possess him, but I think the story is the perfect metaphor for the Turtle. He has been “following” me around in a sense, because I have been trying to hold on to our friendship more than the Turtle was. Well, it has been two weeks since the last time we exchanged words, and I actually don’t care. I’ve evolved. I guess you could say I am the turtle now … I carry my “shelter” on my back, I retreat inside when threatened, and I’m slow. I mean, who else in the world would still be trying to fix a dead friendship for as long as I have been?

So the metal turtle sits on my bookshelf watching over my bedroom. Two weeks ago, I considered throwing the little guy away so I wouldn’t be reminded of the Turtle every morning when I reach for my perfume. Well, look at how cute he is. I can’t throw him away! However, now I can’t throw him away because he’s cute, not because I would be in some way betraying a friendship.

FREEDOM!

***

Well, day 4 of my vacation was uneventful aside from basic socializing and downloading copious amounts of music. Yes. I do absolutely love my music.

This is a shot of the stage at Peabody’s that I shot on Saturday because I really need to stick to this photo-per-day project I start 100 times every year. I have good intentions, I swear. Unfortunately, I missed today! Oh, and yesterday. And I am pretty sure almost all of last week.  🙂  Anyway, the point being, at some point I am going to start this project and actually stick to it, but I got a couple of awesome pics that I wanted to post here.

This is outside Peabody’s while Tony was having a smoke. Yes, I still enjoy sniffing other people’s smoke. As a matter of fact, the best smoke I have sniffed lately (ever) was Ben’s (from Lucero). Yup. I know that sounds incredibly stalkery and creepy, and I have made peace with it. I will be smoke free for a year on July 14th. I have to get my fix somehow …

I absolutely love Ben. He is a genius … and too modest, because he probably wouldn’t call himself a genius.  I am considering making the 2 hour drive to Pennsylvania to see Lucero again. Stalker.

And the two monsters I am sitting.

So, not quite a photo per day, but whatever. I get points for trying, right?

Well, kiddos, that will be all for today. On a sidenote, my phone wanted to autocorrect “kiddos” to “midsized”.

@_@

Yeah. I guess that makes sense on some level.  That’s all I can say about that.

Good night!

Or, rather, good morning, it would appear …

Who needs a title?

Well.

My busy week ended last night with a bang at a show at Peabody’s. Lestat. We can sum this show up in one word: epic.

My week was so busy that I didn’t have time to clear a photo pass with the band, but I took a few pics with my phone.

Certainly, not my best work as a concert photographer, but then, I didn’t have my trusty camera gear!

Anyway, the show was amazing. They were on a 17 year hiatus, and they just released Arisen, their brand new disc. The show I attended was their CD release show, and I am SO very glad I was there! I ended up buying two of their discs, and I will be listening to those for the rest of the day.  🙂

So, I guess my point here is that I am beginning to have a life again. A life, granted, without my former best friend, which is what prompted me to write today.

I looked back at the time stamp on the last text I sent him, the one in which I told him to never again contact me. Two weeks.

Two weeks and he didn’t once say that he didn’t want to never again contact me. Perhaps he realized that he would rather be strangers than friends. That is, in fact, how he has been acting for three years.

So, what does this have to do with Lestat? Because I still hear songs every once in a while that prompt me to grab my phone to text him that he needs to listen to it. I end up stopping myself, but the urge is still there.

I quit smoking in July of 2011, and I still have moments where I feel as though something is missing. I realize after a few moments that the cigarette is what is missing, and I wonder if that will ever go away. I sure as hell hope it does, otherwise I will have two bad habits that I have to make a concerted effort to stay away from; smoking and the former friend. Let’s face it, neither one is very good for me. I don’t need cancer and I don’t need someone who constantly makes me feel as though I don’t matter.

Anyway, I have been hanging around with a much better crowd lately. When I tell these new people that I am feeling depressed, they ask “what’s the matter?”, they don’t disappear. So let this be a lesson to those who want to keep their friendships: the quickest way to lose someone is to make them feel like you don’t care.

All right, readers. Here is your assignment for the coming week: go to http://www.luceromusic.com and check out Lucero, then go to http://www.lestatmusic.com and check out Lestat, and finally, realize that words are powerful, but sometimes they aren’t enough. Sometimes nothing can save you.

Cuh-Razy week.

Hello readers!
It has been quite a crazy week in PhuktNeuroticLand! Here’s a recap:

Last Saturday night, my friend Mel (the other Mel) had a going away party. She is telling HER panic issues to eff off and she’s moving to San Diego! Good for her! Anyway, I got embarrassingly drunk, to the tune of I remember having a philosophical debate on the validity of purity of the story when it comes to Spiderman, Superman, Batman, etc. and the fact that we, as a society, have written Metallica a typecast, and they will never again be able to write an ORIGINAL song, meaning that in my opinion, all their music sounds the same and they will never evolve. Yep, I was that kind of drunk. It was awesome good times, though, and I didn’t get back to my aunt’s house (for whom I am cat sitting while she is out of town for a funeral) until 4 in the morning. Tony, if you still read my blog, that was an AWESOME conversation!

Since I got home so … late? Early? on Easter morning, I knew I would be tired and hungover when the guests arrived at my house, but I decided to set my alarm for nine in the morning anyway. Well, apparently the plug that I plugged my phone into is connected to air because my phone did not charge, thus dying overnight, thus my alarm did not go off, thus I got to Easter dinner AT 2:00, when it was supposed to start, instead of arriving at 10 or so to get dressed and ready for company. So I showed up looking like a bum and changed my clothes there. I put on my nice Easter dress and reappeared, asking our guests to ignore the person who had walked in earlier. I think it worked. 😉

Easter was lovely. I don’t use that term often, so be advised that it really means lovely when I say lovely. We had family over whom we don’t see often, and we had MORE interesting conversation. Troy, if you read this, the canary was spot on! Yes, I realize that statment raises MANY questions, but I am gonna leave you guessin’!

Easter evening was when I got the news that Steve Cordle had passed away, refer to my blog post “Steve Cordle, Rest in Peace” to read more on that. So, I planned to make the two hour trip to Columbus to attend his calling hours. Monday I worked my usual ten hour shift, feeling lousy of course, but after I stopped at home to get some clothes and things to wear to Columbus.  I had dinner with my Mom and Bill, and then I ventured back to my Aunt’s house.

Tuesday was completely uneventful aside from the long talk I had with my hair whilst trying to convince them that they CAN hold a curl. They did, eventually, but it wasn’t without much dissention in the ranks.  I just wanted to look nice for Steve’s calling hours, and I never curl my hair, so it felt … necessary?  That probably isn’t the right word.  Point being, I wanted to look nice for Steve.

Wednesday a friend of mine and I made the trip down to Columbus. It was so good to see so many of my former coworkers and friends, I just wish it were under different circumstances. I spoke to Steve’s daughter and her husband, they read my blog post about her dad and they appreciated my words, which was nice to hear, but again, I wish it had been under different circumstances. After the calling hours, we went out with a group of friends who were former coworkers, I got to see my DEBRA, which was amazing! I haven’t seen her in so long! Anyway, we had a good time, all things considered, laughing and remembering. It was good.  They all had a good laugh at my germ phobia, as I pointed out that my left hand is my touching hand and my right hand is my eating hand.  See?  I can still have a life AND hold on to my annoying quirks.

Thursday I recovered from the “Human Being Overload” that I was struggling with at the funeral home. I really don’t like being in groups that large, although I was impressed with the turn out. Steve was very well liked. I needed to decompress for a while, so I watched The Big Bang Theory on DVR all day until it was time to throw myself into another Human Being Overload at the Lucero concert I took my little sister (The Pupster) to. I had promised her a great time, and she did enjoy the show! She even wants to hear more of their music, which I wasn’t entirely expecting going in to the show, as she isn’t as big a music nerd as I am. I have been a fan of Lucero’s since … gee, I don’t remember exactly, but probably 2003? Anyway, I’ve been a fan for a while, and I fell in love with their music IMMEDIATELY when I heard them for the first time. I’ve been to four of their shows here in Cleveland, I shot photos at two of them, and all this time I never had the nerve to speak to any of them or try to get a photo or an autograph. Well, panic and social disorders be damned, I got a photo AND an autograph from my hero, Ben Nichols, the singer/guitarist and a photo with Brian Venable, the guitarist. Screw off, social anxiety!

So The Pupster and I got our asses handed to us. We were right up against the stage and the crowd commenced shoving (like they usually do) and we got plowed into the stage. My knees, which are already in a total state of disrepair from CMP and a snowboarding incident, look like hamburger meat now. Totally worth it. The show was AMAZING as usual. I tried my damnest to keep the crowd off The Pupster, but when they became too much for my poor little body to fend off, I turned her 4’9″, 90 lb. body around and pushed her to the back of the venue, which SUCKED because once we were in the back, they played two of my absolute FAVORITE SONGS EVER, but keeping the goons off The Pupster was a bigger priority. A security guard saw her standing there all sad faced and said, “You probably can’t see a thing, can you?” The Pupster shook her head all sad with her big ol’ doe eyes so the security guy said he had a place for us, walked us back to right next to the stage, and sat the Pupster on top of one of the speakers. AH! Yes, I will be taking the Pup to all concerts from now on! 🙂 Well, once she could see and wasn’t getting beat to hell (and not worried about ME getting beat to hell) she was able to enjoy the show! That makes me endlessly happy.

Friday was a bitch. I had only a couple hours of sleep and I had to work another 10 hour shift, I kept having (and am still having) heart palpitations. I’m not sure if it is the Human Being Overload talking or not, but I am on high alert. My Aunt and Uncle will return later this evening from their trip and then they will pack their bags to go on another trip so I will be here all next week as well. I’m also on vacation next week, so I get to decompress some more from my crazy, crazy week.

One thing I have to say here is that the entire time we were in the line to see Steve, my amygdala switch was on and it was telling me to RUN! away. I’m glad I didn’t. I didn’t go up to the casket, I kind of knew I wouldn’t, but I got near it. I paid my respects to a man I admired, I spoke to his family, and the amygdala calmed down once I was on my way away from Steve. It was about thirty minutes or so of discomfort, but I handled it well* (* meaning I don’t believe anyone could tell I was about to pass out). I would rather have had that thirty minutes of discomfort than a lifetime of kicking myself for not getting up there and paying my respects. THIS is how I need to think. Besides that, my heart was out of control at the Lucero show, but it didn’t scare me* (*  meaning I didn’t run screaming and I managed to keep from passing out) too much. However, the palpitations I am experiencing now while I am writing this are terrifying me. Odd, isn’t it? I guess I trust my brain to know what the hell is going on inside my body and if it feels the need to be scared, I probably should be.  Right?  Hmm.

Anyway, great* (* meaning terrifying but I lived through it) week.  I will savor every moment of this week off that I have coming up, as it means being away from work (YAY) and giving me time to decompress.  Well, except for tonight because I am going to another show tonight.  Wow.  Screw you, social anxiety.

Diary of a mad pale white scottish woman

Ok, so by now we are all aware of the weird shit going on in my life.  No?  Well, get on the bus, kids, because this should be fun:

This is my new fashion accessory for the next 48 hours.

So, I go to the cardiologist today for my appointment to figure out these weird heart palpitations.  First thing’s first, let’s get an EKG.  “Sure thing”, I say.  I wore the most chest-access appropriate attire, too, which was very forward-thinking of me. 

 

EKG comes back normal.  “Of course it does”, I say.  Dr. H agrees that the normal EKG doesn’t mean much right now, but at least we have a basis for comparison for later.  “Later?”  Asks I.  He answers, “for comparison to the Holter Monitor”.  Great.

 

So, the stickies from the EKG left marks on my skin, and the stickies on the Holter Monitor are ITCHY.  I can’t wash my chest with this thing on, so I will be taking the strangest of showers for the next 48 hours.  I go in on Thursday to return the HM, and I will be getting an echocardiogram.  I’m not even sure if I spelled that right.  Anyway, the HM and the echo will tell Dr. H if there is anything structurally wrong with my heart or perhaps the panic attacks DO cause the palpitations.  I’m obviously hoping the panic is to blame… I’m sure you understand why…

 

So, while I am walking through the hospital looking for the cardiologist (should have had the HM on while frantically looking for the office, BTW), I happen to find my psychiatrist’s office.  Good thing because I feckin’ HATE getting lost inside buildings.  Get me lost in my car and I’m fine, but lost in a building and I get claustrophobic but quick.  So, scratch finding Dr. D off the list of things that I needed to do before the appointment next week.  Had Dr. H not called to tell me to come in RIGHT NOW I probably wouldn’t have freaked out today, either.  I would have shown up in plenty of time to find an information desk to point me to the appropriate place.  NOOOOO.  COME IN NOW!  Well, that doesn’t give me time to get LOST, Dr. H.  That’s not good… well, I did it and I survived.  See amygdala?  It’s not always so scary.

 

“Hey, sexy, can I get your num…what are all those things stuck to your boobs? What are you, Frankenstein?”

And now I don’t have to worry about finding Dr. D next week when I have to go talk to him.  Between the heart guy and the headshrinker, I should finally be able to shed a little light on why my ticker acts funny.  We shall see…

 

On an unrelated note, sitting in a cardiologist’s office serves a couple of purposes in my brain.  1) Figure out what’s what with my heart, and 2) look at all the sad old people in the waiting room.  I was the youngest person in the room by at least 40 years.  That’s sad.  “Why am I even here?”  I exclaim in my own head.  Yeah, heart problems are for the old, not for the 30 year olds … oh.  Wait.  Let me rethink that for a moment … yeah, I lost two childhood friends at age 16 to heart disease.  Sad, sad, sad.  I even remember what they looked like back then, 14 years ago…

 

So, I am sitting in the waiting room thinking of my friends, and I think to myself, “self… what the hell are you doing?  Sarah and Markie died at 16 years old!!  They would have wanted to do SOOOOOOO much with their lives!  Here you are worried about everything, scared of everything, and basically wasting your life worried about when your life will end and how it will end.  THAT’S NO WAY TO LIVE, DAMMIT!”  So, what do I do?  I am posting this blog, hoping against hope that my Holter Monitor (which I named Hector) will find something that is a completely normal and safe function of a healthy heart that I have just been blowing out of proportion and I will live for a very, very long time.  When I am done posting this blog, I will start finding tour managers and record labels and whomever else can help me set up these media passes that I want for the remainder of the year.  Fuck it.  What am I so afraid of?

 

So, to end this, I am going to use my imagination and write a play for you:

 

Open on a scene in the back yard of my Uncle Mark’s old house.  July 4th decorations hanging, crowds formed, volleyball net in background, beyond the fence there is a group waiting to ride the 3 wheeler.  Melissa enters through sliding glass door with a Bud Light in her hand.  Sarah and Markie are standing under the awning, still young and vibrant 16-year-olds.

Melissa:  Hey, guys!  Great to see you!  Haven’t seen you guys around in a long time!

Sarah: Yeah, we’ve been busy.  No big deal.  How have you been?”

Melissa: Oh, I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse, so, ya know…

Markie: What have you been doing in these 14 years since we’ve seen you?

Melissa:  I’m a photographer.  I shoot concerts. 

Sarah and Markie:  Wow, Melissa, that’s awesome.  We are so proud of you. 

Sarah: You’re doing what every 16 year old kid with a camera would love to do!  (Even though you’re thirty, but you have the heart of a 16 year old — according to Hector the Holter Monitor)

fin.

 

Yeah.  I’m a weirdo.  But you know what?  I would love to see how Sarah and Markie would have turned out at age 30.  I doubt either of them would be a neurotic like me.  They wouldn’t be scared to live.  I shouldn’t be either.