Last night I went to my first concert since moving to SLC. This was fantastic for several reasons, 1. I didn't have to pay an additional 20-45 bucks in transportation to get to the venue. Do you know that for the cost it previously took me to get to a concert I could now go to two additional concerts? That. is. AWESOME. 2. I didn't have to wait for friends to be ready to get to the show, I mean, I wanted to go with friends and I did, but I was able to make my own way there, and spend the first few moments enjoying being an adult, in a city, at a concert. On my own. Bonus points. 3. I seriously got way too much real-life applications from this concert. I question my belief that certain things can be life altering, or enlightening, but I had several moments of clarity. Bear with me.
The last few weeks I've been counseled to live in the moment, not to worry about the future when I'm working on enjoying life, and more importantly not to dwell on the past. Be in the moment. I've also read a lot of articles and seen this video, just randomly for work or whatever, about how technology is becoming addicting and keeping us from being in the now. Now I am definitely guilty of using my cell phone as a defense mechanism, "It's okay that I'm here by myself and don't have anyone to talk to, I have someone very important that I'm texting (mom), and no, it's not my mother (yes it is)." But looking around both before the bands began to play and during the performance I was a little stunned at how many people were texting, or checking their phones for messages. The ones who weren't you could tell were into the concert, dancing like crazy, singing loudly to the music, occasionally stomping on my foot, and they were living in the moment, enjoying fact that they were AT a concert. The others, you could barely tell the difference of if they were at a concert, or driving in the car, or on their laptops at home nodding along and occasionally repeating lyrics. No joy.
(Ironically, I just heard my cell phone beep with a text message and had to search it out before continuing.)
One of my favorite songs was played while I had full view of both singers faces, and the foot-stomper seemed to disappear, or lose energy and I was zoned in. It was bliss. A lyric that has always meant something so distinct to me suddenly changed it's entire meaning, "This is what it's like on a fantasy/You put your life on hold as we interest one another." Coming down from my own fantasy has been long and tedious, but down I am coming. This isn't a sad thing, fantasies (in this specific case) keep you from seeing reality, you have a skewed perspective of other people, yourself, and your priorities. Real life has ups and downs that make those ups so much higher in comparison. The next time I'm tempted to jump onto a fantasy, I hope I can remember that real life can be so much more beautiful and lasting and important, and that can turn into something fantastic.
Third, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids? I don't even know. They were playing movies on two screens in the venue that were some of my favorites. ET, The Big Labowski, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? and Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. I forgot how much I love that movie.
Taking a look at the art of change. Not that I have experienced the following at all................ some boyfriends know how to make a damn good mix tape. New songs, new bands, new renditions, perfect hopeful and coupley lyrics.... ahhh you and me. The thing is, once that relationship is over, (again, I can not relate to this at ALL...............) those songs, that have become thereafter your favorite songs are ruined. They bring back broken promises, false hopes, memories, and self-doubts that never belonged there in the first place. So, I'm not sure how I'm going to continue with this, but I'm going to endeavor to make different associations for those favorite songs that have meant so much to me so I may be able to continue to enjoy them and maybe attribute them to something else great in the future. And maybe this is what happens in all break-up situations, new memories, and new experiences take the place of the old, and the old begin to fade in importance.