There are two types of revelations. First, you have the illusion-shattering, orbit-reconfigurating, gasp-rendering revelation. And then you have the "...and?" revelation, which everyone already knew, but someone nonetheless felt the need to make a big deal out of sharing.
The revelation of this post falls under the latter category.
I'm somewhat of a geek.
It's true. I enjoy reading and talking about what I've read. I love going to class and carrying on class discussion outside of the classroom. I had a superhero obsession when I was little (I was Batman for Halloween, like, five times) that I never quite outgrew. Often a follower of underrated shows, I can answer any Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, or Veronica Mars question someone would ask. Or, more accurately, I spend a lot of time wishing someone would ask such a question so that I could bond with a fellow fan in a scarcely populated fandom. And, yes, I employ the term "fandom" naturally. Geek.
But I often do not fully embrace my geekiness. Sometimes I go so far as to pretend I am not geeky, but that takes so much acting effort, I usually just hope my geekiness is subdued enough to be inoffensive. This aspiration to keep my inner geek meek led me to hold off on writing this blog entry until almost a full week after the discussed event occurred. OK, I had papers and, you know, a life, and everything to contend with, as well, but mostly I was too excited to not just have this be the entirety of my blog entry:
I LOVE SARA BAREILLES AND SAW HER IN CONCERT OMGGGGGG SHE WAS SO GREAT AND FUNNY AND TALENTED AND NOW I HAVE A CONCERT SHIRT AND AM SINGING HER SONGS OFTEN AND LOUDLY!!!!!!!!! :D
But, as Wordsworth would say, "Poetry is emotion recalled in tranquility," and you know I work hard to make this blog as poetic as possible (-ignores scoff from reader-), so, again, I had to wait. Since I waited so long to talk about this, however, I am going full disclosure, here. I will not shield you from my fangirl moments. We'll begin at the beginning, because who am I to challenge the system?
A little over a month ago, my roommate told me that Sara Bareilles was going to be playing in Pittsburgh, and I handled the news with all the grace of Bambi's handicapped cousin, Gimpy, the three-legged deer, on ice.
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Do you want to go? Who else would want to go? Ah! Do they still have tickets?" And then I turned around and ran up to my room to order the tickets. In my excitement, I accidentally bought four tickets instead of the intended three. I'm blaming my unusually giddy emotions instead of my inability to add, because I have counted to three successfully before. I swear. Once I officially purchased the tickets, I jumped up and down for a few minutes. I did not celebrate that much when I received my college acceptance letter (probably because part of me is still bitter about not getting that letter from Hogwarts).
I will fast-forward through the months leading up to the concert, because they're predictable, and everyone who has ever waited to go to a concert of a band they love will probably relate to the musical limbo. You're very careful not to "over-listen" to the artist's music, because you don't want to get tired of your favorite songs, but you feel a little disloyal for abandoning an afore much-visted section of your playlist. Sometimes, days will go by when you forget you are eventually going to a concert, but then you'll suddenly remember and become excited again. So you're basically close to mental instability, because of the denial of everyday pleasures, guilt, memory lapses, and sporadic mood swings.
The day of the concert, I had to force myself to admit that the "Will Sara like me" question was contributing to my anxiety level, and then I had to gently remind myself that I would not actually be meeting Sara Bareilles. I was slightly disappointed. Although, I did spend some time joking with my friends about the probability of me lying on her piano as she performed.
Sara (we're on a first-name basis now) was very funny, which won me over immediately. She mentioned how great the crowd was several times, stressing, "No, seriously, you are all fantastic. Did they screen you before they let you in? Are there, like, four jackasses standing outside with their tickets, like, 'Man, they said this concert was supposed to be awesome. This sucks.'"
Along with her own original songs, she covered "Fuck You," "Little Lion Man," and "Yellow," and all of her covers were great. When she started to sing "Little Lion Man," I screamed my approval, but was apparently standing in the section of people who did not love Mumford and Sons, and so I got a couple wary looks. "I love this song," I said, defensively to anyone who may have brought their super-hearing to the concert.
"I love this song" was my refrain to my poor roommate. Every song that they started to play would lead to me leaning over and saying, "I love this song," and my roommate would nod and smile. God bless her, because if our positions were reversed, I may have made her switch seats or take a sedative. It was after approximately the third song when I realized my excitement level was about 17 notches above everyone else's. I did not attempt to tone it down, though, because a concert is the ideal place to know music you already love on a different level and also express your appreciation for the songs that have been with you through a myriad of moments in your life. Anyone who has belted out "King of Anything" after a trying conversation with a know-it-all, mournfully sung "Hold My Heart" while driving through a dreary night, or reaffirmed their independence with "Love Song," can understand a fan's desire to vigorously applaud Sara Bareilles's performance.
In short, totally worth the $25 and the shreds of the cover under which my geekiness once hid.
*Blog Extra*
On the way to the concert, for reasons that are both too complicated and too strange to recall here, my friend and I texted back and forth about Sara Bareilles songs that would be fun for a....ahem, funeral playlist.
"The Light" --There's a line about following someone into the light that my friend found appropriate.
"Breathe Again" --You get it.
"Hold My Heart" --If the person was an organ-donor
"Come Round Soon" --Merely for irony's sake
--I would have warned you about inappropriate humor, but I think if that sort of thing bothered you, you wouldn't be reading my blog in the first place.
