Lucky number five.

October 9, 2017.

Club Cafe, Pittsburgh, October 5.
I always take a selfie in front of the stage.

  I got to see Fastball five times this year. FIVE times. What can I say? I fell in love really effin' hard and fast. The band is the soundtrack of my year, and I love sharing this with friends, family, and anyone who is willing to take it all in with me. Now I'm completely crashing from this rush of passion, excitement, thrill, and pure bliss. There are no remaining tour dates, and I'm left to reminisce and reflect on the intimate three shows I attended the second half of the year, two shows within the past four days.

  The last show is a close tie to being the best show this year. I convinced my dad to go out on a Sunday night with me because I try quite hard to impress him, and I knew that he'd get more than he expected with Fastball's live performance. I got him hooked on Colin, and now he's getting reeled in with Fastball. He knew the hits before me, obviously, but he had never seen the band live. I was on a mission to get him to the show and to experience the absolute brilliance that is the "rock & roll pop harmonic thrill seekers" I'm deeply passionate about.

'My fear pretend that I'll never be in love again...'

September 21, 2017.

  Oh, Gin Blossoms. I adore you.

  I'm just going to leave this here to explain my current thoughts on my love-life...

Finding me.

September 19, 2017.

Foreign melodies, clanking chimes, talking, my voice, all of it.
I need any one way, any one thing, to drown it out.
Turning away, to turn to you. 

  Loving my selfie is getting easier, but by no means is it something I'm able to do every day. From the facial scars to the various worries of how my face-size appears - plus the fact I still appear college-aged - it's sometimes hard to not think about the ridicule and comments others may make and, even more, my own perceptions. It impacts self-worth when it shouldn't.

"I'm just fine here, finding me." -VH. I'm also just fine here, wearing one of my favorite shirts.

  I felt confident and comfortable on Sunday while I was relaxing before my radio show; I was wearing one of my favorite shirts and wanted to put effort into my hair and makeup despite the fact I'd be sitting in the studio alone for the majority of the night. After embracing the warmth from the sun and snapping a few photos, I smiled as I reviewed the shots. Damn, I don't look too bad. I look genuinely happy and not that weird-looking. Why can't I look like this every day?

  Music is an integral part of my self-discovery and self-acceptance this year, especially trying to find myself and find out why my life goals have kept me in Ohio for two years. Music actually has always played a role in my identity, just unconsciously and I'm now looking back and discovering the ways in which it did all those years ago

  I've met a lot of wicked-awesome individuals, in real life and online, who (I hope) label me as an acquaintance, at the least; they have taken the time to discuss nearly anything and everything about the musicians we mutually enjoy. They should know I'm thankful and appreciative of their time and friendship. TY, everyone.

  Nothing ground-breaking here; I wanted to be vulnerable. That's all.

Goodbye summer, hello tears.

August 17, 2017

  Despite a long scroll of new music I needed to try out, I played my Spotify current go-to tunes playlist during my seven-hour drive. I started to tap to the rhythm of "All I Was Looking For Was You" by Fastball (side note: this song has the best song lyric ever written, Midnight on heartbreak avenue, all twisted up on bitches brew). Out of nowhere, tears and heartache engulfed me. Singing along is a must while driving, but I just couldn't get the words out; it felt as if I was an asthmatic attempting to run a 6-minute mile. This part of the song especially got me ugly-crying:

Running away from everything that looks like me. I heard a voice. I saw your face, it set me free.

 For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to continue with Fastball's "Dark Street" in an attempt to get everything that I was feeling out of my system. It sure did help the flow of tears.

Come on down and never leave my sky again. Shine your love light, love light, love light...

  I then finished the cry-fest with Colin Hay's "The Best In Me," and my previous post sheds light on the emotional performance of this song at the most recent concert. I approached the toll-booth attendant with my sunglasses on even though I could care less about whether or not he sees my worn face. As I drove away and turned the up the volume, the crying came back. Good grief!

A magical night of tunes with Colin Hay.

August 13, 2017.

  How does Colin have the ability to take my breath away but also help give me the will-power and strength to breathe?

  There are truly no words to emphasize or describe how remarkable and unreal this show felt. With my family sitting in the chairs on the side, I took this one opportunity to stand at the stage; from what I've noticed with Colin's venues, this is rare. Never have I been able to watch a performance this close to Colin. We were so close, we could hear his voice as he stepped away from the mic to finish Maggie.

  Colin has a large collection of songs, so I expected not to hear many of my favorites because they're usually not the typical show-pleasers. Even so, I held on to one of the newer melodies.

  While my new friend and I were taking a photo with Colin in the background as he tuned his guitar for the next song, I suddenly heard him strumming the first notes of The Best In Me. I knew -- instantly -- it was the song.

Shadows in the night, danger is all I know, so difficult to let go. If I close my eyes and breathe, gets easier to believe, and you bring out the best in me. 

Sheila caught me on
the brink of ugly crying. 

  I lost my ability to breathe, gasping in between each line. I can't remember the last time I was overcome with such a connection when a song was playing a mere few feet away from me. As he played the song, I felt as if he knew I wanted to hear it... I can't explain it. There was a force between the two of us; no one else was in this circular current. This was the first time I shared this what felt like one-on-one energy with Colin.

In your reflection I can see that you bring out the best in me.

  After he finished the song, all I can recall is looking at my friends, completely awe-struck of how truly magical those four minutes were for me. I exclaimed how I didn't think he'd play my favorite from Fierce Mercy, attempting to keep composure. I was fighting for air.

  All the positive energy, joy, love, were too much for me to handle. It felt unreal.

  Which song followed? I can't recall at this point; I attempted to sing along but was still near-hyperventilating due to the over-excitement. I hope every person gets to make a connection just as I did with a musician at least once in her or her lifetime.

Yeah, you help set me free, and you bring out the best in me.