So, I woke up this morning with an incredibly sore index finger. Of course my fingers are usually sore from playing the guitar (especially my chord fingers), but this is unusual. It feels almost like a bruise, or like it's swollen, which is not when callused guitar fingers usually feel like. They burn, they itch, they might hurt when you press right on the calluses themselves-- but this feels like I slammed my finger into a door. It doesn't look all that different (not swollen or anything), except that it maybe looks a little more red where it hurts, though that could easily be me making things up. The other weird thing is that the pain is asymmetrical, more towards my pinky than my thumb. I suppose it could be from playing too much (sometimes really thick calluses will start to hurt), but the pain radiates down the nail on one side, all the way to the cuticle. I'm probably going to try filing down the callus a little bit later, but I don't think I'll be able to play the guitar for a bit. The thing hurts when I press on the callus, or anywhere on the one side of my nail, plus when I press down on my nail from the top. I can even feel it as I'm typing now. I'm actually really confused about this; I'm usually pretty good at at least divining a source. I really don't think that guitar was the source of this, but then again, stranger things have happened. I suppose all I can do for now is wait, and maybe try my file later.
-Kal
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
The Hazards of Cold Fingers
So, I just came back from town, new supplies in hand, eager to play-- but man, is it cold out. You ever feel like you start to move more slowly when it's cold out? Well, it's especially true with your hands. Your fingers feel stiff after coming inside, right? Most everyone knows the feeling. Well, I'd advise being smarter than me, and giving your hands some time to warm up before you start playing. Rub them together, sit on them, get the blood flowing-- cold fingers do not make for a happy guitarist. Your calluses will probably hurt more when you start playing, plus you'll probably be a bit slower at switching between chords, and strumming in general.
And on that quick note about playing, I feel the need to bring up again one of the frustrations of being a guitarist: dropping the pick. I've actually licked the contact parts of my fingers before playing in the past, to get a better grip. But often I'll losen my grip on the pick when I'm trying to play more quietly, and it will subsequently slip from my hands. If I'm lucky, it lands at my feet. If the world is feeling cruel, I hear it clatter into the guitar. Well, you can read about the last time that happened to me here, but today I happened to stumble upon the most ingeniuos solution:
And on that quick note about playing, I feel the need to bring up again one of the frustrations of being a guitarist: dropping the pick. I've actually licked the contact parts of my fingers before playing in the past, to get a better grip. But often I'll losen my grip on the pick when I'm trying to play more quietly, and it will subsequently slip from my hands. If I'm lucky, it lands at my feet. If the world is feeling cruel, I hear it clatter into the guitar. Well, you can read about the last time that happened to me here, but today I happened to stumble upon the most ingeniuos solution:
I hope what you can see from this picture is the textured oval region near the top-- it's actually this rubbery grip inlaid to the top of the pick. I just happened to walk into my local guitar shop today, and found this sitting on the shelf. I tried it as soon as I got back to my dorm, and it feels great. I haven't found it slipping while playing yet, and the tip is actually narrower than my others, so the sound I get out of it is really crisp. And while I was there, I ended up picking up another 0.58mm pick, just in case I drop mine into the guitar again.
Hopefully now that I have another "just in case" pick, that won't happen. But knowing me, I'll drop the new grippy one instead.
-Kal
Hopefully now that I have another "just in case" pick, that won't happen. But knowing me, I'll drop the new grippy one instead.
-Kal
Sunday, March 4, 2012
The Hazards of Not Knowing Your Limits
When I start playing, I really get into it. In the past I've tried to limit myself to an hour of practice at a time, but there are just so many songs that I love to play, and so many that I need to practice. For our next set, I really want to play My Immortal by Evanescence, and Kiss Me, by Sixpence None The Richer. This would involve Miguel, my viola friend, getting the amp up here for his electric violin, and then Rose singing. And I really need to practice for these. The chords that are giving me the most grief right now are F#m (244222) and Dm (xx0231). I've been going at this for a while, and I still need the practice, since my hands are still not quite strong enough for the bar chords. Anyway, I played earlier today, and I guess I've been going at it off and on for about 2 hours now. This is the result:
Now, the calluses and all are normal. But after playing for a while, they tend to turn white and start to peel. If you're like me, you'll get really tempted to pick at them. DON'T DO IT. It's a painful process, and it'll hurt more the next time you play. If you leave them be, they'll usually flatten out on their own.
So, if you're smart, you'll find your limit, and practice for only that amount of time. If you're like me, you'll be really determined to learn something that you definitely won't get in one night, or you'll just really get into it and play for hours on end, without realizing how time is passing. And if you're like me, you'll only stop playing when it hurts to touh the strings, and when your hands visibly start to slow down and lose strength and energy. Word of caution (and I know I've said this before, but I've dropped bowls of burning hot liquid this way): your fingers may be very sensitive to heat at this point. Just be aware of it.
And, a quick final tip: cleaning the strings regularly will actually make it easier on your fingers. Just wrap a microfiber cloth, like the one used to clean glasses, around each string individually, and run it up and down the string. You'll be surprised at how much gunk comes off, especially near the top frets where you play the most.
Happy practicing!
-Kal
Now, the calluses and all are normal. But after playing for a while, they tend to turn white and start to peel. If you're like me, you'll get really tempted to pick at them. DON'T DO IT. It's a painful process, and it'll hurt more the next time you play. If you leave them be, they'll usually flatten out on their own.
So, if you're smart, you'll find your limit, and practice for only that amount of time. If you're like me, you'll be really determined to learn something that you definitely won't get in one night, or you'll just really get into it and play for hours on end, without realizing how time is passing. And if you're like me, you'll only stop playing when it hurts to touh the strings, and when your hands visibly start to slow down and lose strength and energy. Word of caution (and I know I've said this before, but I've dropped bowls of burning hot liquid this way): your fingers may be very sensitive to heat at this point. Just be aware of it.
And, a quick final tip: cleaning the strings regularly will actually make it easier on your fingers. Just wrap a microfiber cloth, like the one used to clean glasses, around each string individually, and run it up and down the string. You'll be surprised at how much gunk comes off, especially near the top frets where you play the most.
Happy practicing!
-Kal
Well That Was Anticlimactic
So, not a whole lot happened yesterday. We went shopping (no incident there), and even walked to the train station. I didn't have my phone and I didn't need my phone. I felt no need to be texting anyone or checking my email while I was walking, even though that's something I'll do out of habit. The biggest thing for me was the instinctively checking to make sure my phone was in my pocket-- which obviously it wasn't. Basically, I'm just really paranoid about losing it. The times I was wishing I had it were to listen to music, and to jot down a note. We were sitting on the bus when a song came on and I thought, "wow, this would be great for Open Mic Night"-- only I couldn't figure out the song, nor could I write it down, since I didn't have my phone.
So other than that, no big issue. And really, I didn't even play my guitar or read all that much yesterday. The time I did grab my guitar out was in the evening, past quiet hours, with a couple friends in the lounge. We were decorating a poster, and Dave was talking about how he hadn't played in a while, so I went to grab Carmine (my guitar, for those of you who don't know). We had a pretty cool discussion about different playing styles, and I discovered that he's way more into finger picking than me. He started playing the melodies for Sweet Home Alabama, and a bunch of other songs: Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones, everything that I had started to learn on the violin in middle school. It was actually pretty interesting; he said that finger picking was way easier for him than strumming, which was a pretty big revelation for me. He said for him, it's easier to keep track of two hands, rather than two fingers. So, if he can keep his fingers in the same position, and pluck the strings in a certain order, that's what works for him. With me, it's totally the opposite-- my plucking hand is much harder for me to keep track of, but I'm fine (now) at changing chords. Maybe it has something to do with the way I started off: I worked really hard at changing chords in the beginning.
So, I guess the point is that different people have different preferences. For me, picking will take a lot more brain power to learn. For Dave, the chords are too much to keep track of at once. My brain focuses on the chord hand, his on the strumming/picking hand. In the end though, the best part was exchanging ideas. He showed me a really easy picking song (Time, Hootie and the Blowfish), which I can also use to practice hammering on (placing your finger on the string after you've plucked it). I told him that the way I started practicing chords was keeping two finger planted, so you only had two more to keep track of.
Basically, it's all about experimenting, and finding out what works for you.
-Kal
So other than that, no big issue. And really, I didn't even play my guitar or read all that much yesterday. The time I did grab my guitar out was in the evening, past quiet hours, with a couple friends in the lounge. We were decorating a poster, and Dave was talking about how he hadn't played in a while, so I went to grab Carmine (my guitar, for those of you who don't know). We had a pretty cool discussion about different playing styles, and I discovered that he's way more into finger picking than me. He started playing the melodies for Sweet Home Alabama, and a bunch of other songs: Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones, everything that I had started to learn on the violin in middle school. It was actually pretty interesting; he said that finger picking was way easier for him than strumming, which was a pretty big revelation for me. He said for him, it's easier to keep track of two hands, rather than two fingers. So, if he can keep his fingers in the same position, and pluck the strings in a certain order, that's what works for him. With me, it's totally the opposite-- my plucking hand is much harder for me to keep track of, but I'm fine (now) at changing chords. Maybe it has something to do with the way I started off: I worked really hard at changing chords in the beginning.
So, I guess the point is that different people have different preferences. For me, picking will take a lot more brain power to learn. For Dave, the chords are too much to keep track of at once. My brain focuses on the chord hand, his on the strumming/picking hand. In the end though, the best part was exchanging ideas. He showed me a really easy picking song (Time, Hootie and the Blowfish), which I can also use to practice hammering on (placing your finger on the string after you've plucked it). I told him that the way I started practicing chords was keeping two finger planted, so you only had two more to keep track of.
Basically, it's all about experimenting, and finding out what works for you.
-Kal
Friday, March 2, 2012
An Experiment
The day after we discussed the "tethered" life in my English class, I
was running late for my Calc class, and forgot my cell phone on the
dorm. Of course it struck me as coincidentally good timing, and I was
rolling my eyes at myself. But as I thought about it, I realized it
wasn't really all that important. I wouldn't need to be contacting
anyone between class and work-- any of that could wait until I got back
to the dorm. Sometimes I listen to music on my phone, but that's not
crucial either. The only thing I was missing was a timepiece-- but even
that was nice, not glancing at the time every five minutes.
So, I decided to try something for myself. Tomorrow, from when I wake up to when I go to bed, my phone will be tucked in the back of my desk drawer, and my computer will be disconnected from the internet (I would say that I'd put that away too, but all my tabs are on iTunes).
What will this mean? As a guitarist, it will mean no interruptions while I'm playing, which will be lovely. It will mean making my shopping trip without the ability to look up the bus schedule and without the ability to call a cab, or anyone for that matter. It will mean having to speak to my friends face to face to stay informed about plans. It will mean going to Saturday night's party without the ability to call or text anyone, to see where they are or otherwise. It will mean being able to focus on what's in front of me. It will mean not being able to check my email for a full 24 hours.
For one, it will force me to do any online homework before tomorrow. It will mean being able to read without my phone buzzing after three paragraphs. As a music-phile, it will mean having to create my own music.
Why? Well, to be honest, I'm really just curious. But when we talked about being alone, while not ever really being alone, I realized all the times I've been interrupted while playing, and it really does just kill the song when your phone goes off in the middle. Even if you don't answer right away, there's still that blip in the song, and your mind is really no longer in it. It's hovering over your phone, wondering what someone could possibly be saying. And in another sense, I'll be able to record without fear of being interrupted, so expect a new video post after this is done.
I'm also hoping that it'll give me a better appreciation of...well, everything. A better appreciation for my alone-time, the time I get with my guitar and my books. A better appreciation of the friends who are in front of me. More confidence in my ability to really rely on myself. And also a better appreciation for our ability to communicate across such distances. For a full day I won't be able to contact anyone back home, about the little things or the big things. It will test my memory, my nerve, and my ability to focus.
And of course now, I'm just itching to get to my guitar, for that sweet moment when I can close my door and know that no one, no one will break the sound of the strings except for me myself.
-Kal
So, I decided to try something for myself. Tomorrow, from when I wake up to when I go to bed, my phone will be tucked in the back of my desk drawer, and my computer will be disconnected from the internet (I would say that I'd put that away too, but all my tabs are on iTunes).
What will this mean? As a guitarist, it will mean no interruptions while I'm playing, which will be lovely. It will mean making my shopping trip without the ability to look up the bus schedule and without the ability to call a cab, or anyone for that matter. It will mean having to speak to my friends face to face to stay informed about plans. It will mean going to Saturday night's party without the ability to call or text anyone, to see where they are or otherwise. It will mean being able to focus on what's in front of me. It will mean not being able to check my email for a full 24 hours.
For one, it will force me to do any online homework before tomorrow. It will mean being able to read without my phone buzzing after three paragraphs. As a music-phile, it will mean having to create my own music.
Why? Well, to be honest, I'm really just curious. But when we talked about being alone, while not ever really being alone, I realized all the times I've been interrupted while playing, and it really does just kill the song when your phone goes off in the middle. Even if you don't answer right away, there's still that blip in the song, and your mind is really no longer in it. It's hovering over your phone, wondering what someone could possibly be saying. And in another sense, I'll be able to record without fear of being interrupted, so expect a new video post after this is done.
I'm also hoping that it'll give me a better appreciation of...well, everything. A better appreciation for my alone-time, the time I get with my guitar and my books. A better appreciation of the friends who are in front of me. More confidence in my ability to really rely on myself. And also a better appreciation for our ability to communicate across such distances. For a full day I won't be able to contact anyone back home, about the little things or the big things. It will test my memory, my nerve, and my ability to focus.
And of course now, I'm just itching to get to my guitar, for that sweet moment when I can close my door and know that no one, no one will break the sound of the strings except for me myself.
-Kal
Performances Sneak Up On You
Last night was Open Mic Night-- the first Thursday of every month. Rose and I realized on Sunday that we hadn't practiced anything. You get caught up in school work, you don't pick up the guitar for a few days, and then just one more day, and one more day, because there's always one more thing you could get done instead. And then it's the week of. Well, I'm not going to tell you that we pulled one out of the hat and managed a set list in four days, because we didn't. But I still went, and there were some amazing musicians. Some I had seen before, some entirely new, but it always strikes me just how brilliant some of these people are. It's always incredibly humbling, seeing people writing their own music, hearing people live that sound better than studio artists today.
It also made me question myself a little. I'm a guitarist, sure, but nothing like them. As a guitarist, walking around campus makes you wonder what's so special about yourself-- on this campus especially, it seems like every third person you meet plays the guitar. Either that, or they're way more experienced with another instrument than you've ever been with any form of music. At home if you were a guitarist, you stuck out. It was your thing, the thing you owned and the thing you loved. So what after all does make it special?
Well, it's just that. It is the thing I love. Of course I envy those guitarists who write their own music, and then can get up and perform it. It's amazing and beautiful-- and it reminds me of why I love playing. I don't strive to be better for the sake of being better. I want to learn how to play well, how to finger pick and how to sing because music it seems, can so often express what words alone can't. There's a poetry to them and the way their written, but there's an emotion to the music too, the different instruments used and the tone of the lyrics. Everyone talks so much about how talking to someone face to face is so much more real than textual communication, simply because you can see the person's expressions, hear the intonation of their voice, and cue into their gestures. Well, has anyone ever told you about this amazing song, and then sent you...the lyrics? Next time someone tells you about a song, look up the lyrics first. Don't listen, just read. It's not the same, is it? You're missing a whole element of what the piece is trying to say. Maybe the general point gets across, but music is like talking face to face.
For me though, music takes it a step further. There are so many instruments overlaid, like layers of emotion, and so many ups and downs throughout the course of the song. It's like a song bottles up* in just a few minutes what an hour-long conversation might try to say. It's like the purest form of communicating exactly what you're trying to say. It takes away yet another layer, tears down yet another barrier between people.
That's why I love playing. Why I want to be able to sing and pick and strum-- it feels like the most pure and true way of expressing exactly what I'm trying to say. I'm sure you have those few songs that, beyond being your favorite songs, they make you pause when they come on. You feel something tugging in your chest, in that hollow just below your heart, like something wanting to escape, something that can't be expressed in words-- and the music is that outlet. I play for the lyrics, I play for the music, and I play for the emotional release. In a world where everything can said rather than shown, music is my way of pushing through that barrier of text.
-Kal
It also made me question myself a little. I'm a guitarist, sure, but nothing like them. As a guitarist, walking around campus makes you wonder what's so special about yourself-- on this campus especially, it seems like every third person you meet plays the guitar. Either that, or they're way more experienced with another instrument than you've ever been with any form of music. At home if you were a guitarist, you stuck out. It was your thing, the thing you owned and the thing you loved. So what after all does make it special?
Well, it's just that. It is the thing I love. Of course I envy those guitarists who write their own music, and then can get up and perform it. It's amazing and beautiful-- and it reminds me of why I love playing. I don't strive to be better for the sake of being better. I want to learn how to play well, how to finger pick and how to sing because music it seems, can so often express what words alone can't. There's a poetry to them and the way their written, but there's an emotion to the music too, the different instruments used and the tone of the lyrics. Everyone talks so much about how talking to someone face to face is so much more real than textual communication, simply because you can see the person's expressions, hear the intonation of their voice, and cue into their gestures. Well, has anyone ever told you about this amazing song, and then sent you...the lyrics? Next time someone tells you about a song, look up the lyrics first. Don't listen, just read. It's not the same, is it? You're missing a whole element of what the piece is trying to say. Maybe the general point gets across, but music is like talking face to face.
For me though, music takes it a step further. There are so many instruments overlaid, like layers of emotion, and so many ups and downs throughout the course of the song. It's like a song bottles up* in just a few minutes what an hour-long conversation might try to say. It's like the purest form of communicating exactly what you're trying to say. It takes away yet another layer, tears down yet another barrier between people.
That's why I love playing. Why I want to be able to sing and pick and strum-- it feels like the most pure and true way of expressing exactly what I'm trying to say. I'm sure you have those few songs that, beyond being your favorite songs, they make you pause when they come on. You feel something tugging in your chest, in that hollow just below your heart, like something wanting to escape, something that can't be expressed in words-- and the music is that outlet. I play for the lyrics, I play for the music, and I play for the emotional release. In a world where everything can said rather than shown, music is my way of pushing through that barrier of text.
-Kal
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
More of a Challenge: I Miss You
This song is more difficult, simply because of the strumming pattern. The chord changes are also more frequent during the chorus portion, but the chords themselves are about the same level of difficulty. Below is a video of me playing (and singing), so you can discern the strumming pattern.
Tab used:
G Dsus4 (xx0233)
Hello there, the angel from my nightmare
Em7 Dsus4/F# (2x0233)
The shadow in the background of the morgue
G Dsus4
The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley
Em7 Dsus4/F#
We can live like Jack and Sally if we want
G
Where you can always find me
Dsus4
We'll have Halloween on Christmas
Em7 Dsus4/F#
And in the night we'll wish this never ends
G [this is also the starting chorus chord]
We'll wish this never ends
Chorus (G Em7 Dsus4 Cadd9)
G A7Sus4 (x02033) Em7* Dsus4
Cadd9 Dsus4/F# Cadd9
(I miss you,miss you)
You'll notice that this one is particularly difficult for me to sing. I miss my cue, and the strumming pattern makes it hard to sing while I'm playing. It's like trying to rub your head and pat your stomach at the same time, for lack of a better analogy.
You also might notice as you begin to play, that first working out the chords can be a chore. Your brain will know where it wants your fingers to move, but it takes quite a bit of effort and mental power to get your fingers to cooperate. Ever tried that little trick where you link your fingers together and flip your hands, so that your left hand is to your right and visa versa? A friend points to a finger you have to lift up, and more often than not, you'll lift the wrong one. It feels sort of like that.
Anyway, this song also made me think back to my first college concert: Blink-182. I was so proud that I had score tickets-- I was so excited when I saw them on sale that I didn't even think of how I would get there. Turns out the closes bus drops you about a 20 minute walk away, which really isn't that bad if you think about it. I walk everywhere in my hometown. What I didn't bargain for was walking along our lovely local pseudo-highway. Traffic lights, sure, but three lanes of traffic traveling about 50 mph.
What we talked about in class today reminded me of this moment. We had been talking about that "coming of age" moment, that moment when you realize that you are truly, utterly alone, with no one to rely on but yourself. The point of the conversation was that this is changing, now that everyone has a cell phone, and we can be alone without really being "alone". And yes, when I made this venture, I did have my phone, albeit my dinosaur flip phone from 8th grade that was too thick to fit comfortably on my pocket.
But even with my phone, the police at my fingertips if it came down to it, I felt at that moment utterly alone. And it's terrifying. I had done all the research I could beforehand, printed out a map of the area, planned my route; but the bus dropped me off in a different location than what I was expecting. So I stood there for a few seconds, then tried to discern which direction was the right one. Eventually, I stopped and knocked on a random door, asking which way the concert hall was. The man was nice enough, pointed me in the right direction, and wished me luck as if I were setting out on some medieval quest. I kind of felt like it, backpack slung over my shoulders, walking down a stretch of road with no highway, with a prepaid phone that had about 10 minutes worth left on it. I finally got to the pseudo-highway, but it only gets better from here. Those ditches by the side of the road? Well, it was my honorable option to walk either on the road side, and be whipped past by speeding cars, or tread safely through the brambles and burrs on the other side. I chose the latter. I won't go into details about how unpleasant it was, how scared I was, or how stupid I felt (mostly stupid by this point, since I could see the road with the concert hall). I came out in the parking lot covered in those burrs with the hooks on them. They were stuck to me, my bag, my towel.
But once I got there, I was fine. I was alone, and I was wary of my stuff and of everyone around me. But the concert was good, minus the constant weed smoking. I thought I'd be bright and leave a little early, since everyone would be calling taxis to pick them up. My second "coming of age" experience came the same night. I left at maybe 10:30 or 11pm, called a taxi and waited out front. I called back multiple times, but every time a taxi pulled up, it was for more than one person. And then they stopped coming. I found out later (much later) that by that point, they weren't allowing cars right by the hall, that you had to wait at the corner of the drive and this pseudo-highway. When I called back about the 5th time, the woman told me to wait at the end of the drive. So I did. It was almost midnight. And then it was 12:30. And that's when the last cop car at the end of the drive pulled away. It's always brightest right before it goes pitch black, right? And it was pitch black. I ended up calling my roommate for a ride. Turns out she had been at the same concert.
Well, point being that yes, while still being tethered with a (granted, crappy) phone, I still felt that gripping fear of being alone, way after dark, in an unfamiliar town. If I'd had to get back to campus by myself, that would've been a completely different story-- I probably wouldn't have gone to the concert in the first place. But that was my real coming of age moment (and twice in one night!). At least now though, I know that I won't flinch in the face of being alone at night with no one else to rely on.
-Kal
You also might notice as you begin to play, that first working out the chords can be a chore. Your brain will know where it wants your fingers to move, but it takes quite a bit of effort and mental power to get your fingers to cooperate. Ever tried that little trick where you link your fingers together and flip your hands, so that your left hand is to your right and visa versa? A friend points to a finger you have to lift up, and more often than not, you'll lift the wrong one. It feels sort of like that.
Anyway, this song also made me think back to my first college concert: Blink-182. I was so proud that I had score tickets-- I was so excited when I saw them on sale that I didn't even think of how I would get there. Turns out the closes bus drops you about a 20 minute walk away, which really isn't that bad if you think about it. I walk everywhere in my hometown. What I didn't bargain for was walking along our lovely local pseudo-highway. Traffic lights, sure, but three lanes of traffic traveling about 50 mph.
What we talked about in class today reminded me of this moment. We had been talking about that "coming of age" moment, that moment when you realize that you are truly, utterly alone, with no one to rely on but yourself. The point of the conversation was that this is changing, now that everyone has a cell phone, and we can be alone without really being "alone". And yes, when I made this venture, I did have my phone, albeit my dinosaur flip phone from 8th grade that was too thick to fit comfortably on my pocket.
But even with my phone, the police at my fingertips if it came down to it, I felt at that moment utterly alone. And it's terrifying. I had done all the research I could beforehand, printed out a map of the area, planned my route; but the bus dropped me off in a different location than what I was expecting. So I stood there for a few seconds, then tried to discern which direction was the right one. Eventually, I stopped and knocked on a random door, asking which way the concert hall was. The man was nice enough, pointed me in the right direction, and wished me luck as if I were setting out on some medieval quest. I kind of felt like it, backpack slung over my shoulders, walking down a stretch of road with no highway, with a prepaid phone that had about 10 minutes worth left on it. I finally got to the pseudo-highway, but it only gets better from here. Those ditches by the side of the road? Well, it was my honorable option to walk either on the road side, and be whipped past by speeding cars, or tread safely through the brambles and burrs on the other side. I chose the latter. I won't go into details about how unpleasant it was, how scared I was, or how stupid I felt (mostly stupid by this point, since I could see the road with the concert hall). I came out in the parking lot covered in those burrs with the hooks on them. They were stuck to me, my bag, my towel.
But once I got there, I was fine. I was alone, and I was wary of my stuff and of everyone around me. But the concert was good, minus the constant weed smoking. I thought I'd be bright and leave a little early, since everyone would be calling taxis to pick them up. My second "coming of age" experience came the same night. I left at maybe 10:30 or 11pm, called a taxi and waited out front. I called back multiple times, but every time a taxi pulled up, it was for more than one person. And then they stopped coming. I found out later (much later) that by that point, they weren't allowing cars right by the hall, that you had to wait at the corner of the drive and this pseudo-highway. When I called back about the 5th time, the woman told me to wait at the end of the drive. So I did. It was almost midnight. And then it was 12:30. And that's when the last cop car at the end of the drive pulled away. It's always brightest right before it goes pitch black, right? And it was pitch black. I ended up calling my roommate for a ride. Turns out she had been at the same concert.
Well, point being that yes, while still being tethered with a (granted, crappy) phone, I still felt that gripping fear of being alone, way after dark, in an unfamiliar town. If I'd had to get back to campus by myself, that would've been a completely different story-- I probably wouldn't have gone to the concert in the first place. But that was my real coming of age moment (and twice in one night!). At least now though, I know that I won't flinch in the face of being alone at night with no one else to rely on.
-Kal
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