i followed a twitter feed yesterday. (when did twitter get to be the most helpful and exciting social media app?) and found myself rsvp-ing to see Portugal. The Man at the lomography store on west eighth street here in new york. i sent the email off with no real hope of anything.
and then today, just hours before the event, while at work, i got an email confirming my ticket and my +1. so in a mad rush i went about finding said +1. this is what i learned/realized: many of my friends (and people i'd most like to go with) do not live in new york. many, many more of my friends are successful and have jobs that don't allow for such off-the-cuff planning.
so i started to waver: should i go. should i not go. i'm meant to see the band in boston on saturday. i got two tickets (one for me, one for my brother) as a birthday gift to myself, from him (smooth, no?). only i didn't run the date by him first so...i'm headed to boston. to see Portugal. The Man by myself (really, really smooth).
anywhoo, to go or not to go.
i was tired today. i'm always tired nowadays. and i've been feeling low and blue. i wanted nothing more than to come home take a nap, run some errands, do the laundry (and let's be honest...hide from the world).
and i was afraid. afraid to go by myself.
but if i'm living in new york, if i'm going to live here, in new york, hell...isn't this precisely why people love the city--where exposure to these sorts of things is prevalent and everyone is alway rubbing elbows with someone exciting and story-worthy.
three months ago i would've gone. no questions asked. three months ago i felt bold and confident, three months ago i didn't care if it meant standing by myself in a corner for two hours sipping white wine while waiting for the event to begin.
but today i felt fearful. and lacking. and because i was so afraid, because fear was dictating, i knew i had to go.
so i did. and i did stand for two hours. by myself. in my stodgy, black work-clothes and my tried and true blue rain slicker. (let's just say i was not in my hipster-best).
but i was so proud of myself for going. for reclaiming some of that girl i tapped into mere months ago.
and it was so great. the music was so great. they are so great. they were the last band i saw at lolla this summer. and as their set progressed, all of us there in grant park watched as a massive rain storm rolled in. and just as they began the last song, the sky opened, and lord did we dance and slide and get a little muddy that day. so it seemed fitting that sky deluged new york today.
Portugal. The Man is my rain dance music. my be-brave, get-wet, dance music. and don't think i don't have a thing for every single one of the guys in the band.
on a separate note: there was this brief moment, when, before they had opened the upstairs to the public, i somehow wandered up there (no security) and found myself face-to-face with the band's drummer and a gaggle of others only to turn right around on my heel and high-tail it back downstairs. no one stopped me. no one said you can't come up here. i should've sauntered right in and started talking to everyone as though of course i'm meant to be here. but, that's a level of bold i'm still working on.
hey boys, saturday night. in boston. be there, be square.