Amber's Space

I am enjoying being home. I've enjoyed meeting up with many of my friends and just catching up on our eventful (and some not-so-eventful) summers.

In the first couple weeks I was back I wanted to go to the Ruston Way waterfront every opportunity I could get. Puget Sound really is a beautiful and unique area, and I should enjoy the natural beauty around me while I am here, because who knows where life could take me in the future?

On the 6th Johnathon and I celebrated our 3rd month of being together by going down to Ruston Way in the evening. I'm so glad that the two months of separation only helped us grow closer instead of pulling us apart. Long-distance relationships are hard, especially for two people who aren't phone talkers. But in those two months of being apart, we did our best to remain in communication with each other. I think it drove us both crazy when we couldn't talk to each other. Now that we're back together, I think we appreciate the time we can be together even more.

I took Johnathon to the Pierce County Fair and showed him around what became my second home for four days of every summer in the latter part of my school days. I have many good memories at the fair, and it was fun to see familiar faces and look back at who I was and what I've done. I also couldn't help but compare who and where I am now compared to back then. Wow, has life changed! Sometimes I forget that much time has passed, but it has...

The day after I took him to the fair, I took Johnathon to see a dog show. (He was such a good sport.) It was fun to show him what a dog show is like and how it works. Dog shows consumed many of my weekends throughout the years, and although I don't know too many people in the dog world personally, I recognize many faces, and it's fun to see who's showing what and who's doing the winning.

Last weekend we took a trip to Westport and stayed at the lot with my parents. Words cannot accurately describe the beauty of the weekend. It was fantastic. There was no schedule, nothing we had to do but whatever the heck we wanted. And, of course, the scenery was beautiful. It was a little cloudy and rainy on Saturday, but Friday night and Sunday were picturesque. I love being at the ocean and just soaking in the dazzling beauty of God's creation.

As I sighed and stared out at the amber sun setting over the sparkling ocean water, Johnathon's arms wrapped around me, it was like I could hear God whisper to me, "Welcome home."

Lauren had been having some trouble with an ex-boyfriend who lives near Raleigh. They had broken up only a few months before she came down to Raleigh for the internship, and he still had her cat. Coordinating retrieval of said cat prompted some e-mail communication, which he turned into an opportunity for him to rant to her about how bad she was to him and how he now as baggage, etc... In this, he practically accused her of stealing a couple sweaters which she says he practically forced her to take. In her frustration, Lauren shared with me his e-mails and said she did not know what to say in response.

In reading over his e-mail to her and pondering a response to suggest, I looked at her and said, "Do you realize that this is straight out of a country song?"

"What?" she said with a laugh.

"You know that song that goes, 'Take your cat and leave my sweater'?"

The song "You'll Think of Me" by Keith Urban contains those very words. The realization struck her and we both burst into fits of laughter. Lauren doesn't even like country music. "As much as you don't like country music, your life could be one."

Then I felt compelled to offer some sort of joking consolation. So I said, "Hey, at least your dog didn't die!"

After a couple chuckles the realization hit me and I gasped. I looked at Lauren and stammered, "Oh, wait..."

I had forgotten. Her dog died three weeks before the internship began.

We both began laughing so hard the tears streamed down our faces.

I went out on Friday night with Lauren (fellow intern) and one of her roommates. When we were driving down one of the main drags in town, we passed a place that regularly has concerts. Lauren's roommate pointed it out, so we tried our best to decipher the lettering on the dim readerboard as we drove by. I searched for any bit of lettering my eye would recognize, much like those eye charts they make you read in the doctor's office. About halfway down the board I thought I read "PROJECT 86." I blinked to make sure I was seeing clearly, and yes, it still read "PROJECT 86" as we drove away.

What a coincidence! Project is one of Johnathon's favorite bands, and they were going to come here, to Raleigh.

Later that night, when I was talking to Johnathon on the phone, he confirmed that yes, Project was indeed coming to The Brewery, and they were playing the next night, along with Chasing Victory and Showbread. I wanted to go.

The next day, when Lauren came to pick me up and take me to the store for some necessities, I told her about the show. She wasn't enthused. I had warned her that they were hardcore, and she said that she had checked them out after I had identified them on the readerboard. They are a little too hardcore for her tastes. But we came back to my apartment and checked out the rest of the bands that were scheduled to be playing, and I told her I would pay for her ticket and convinced her to come along with me to the show.

We went out to dinner first at a great local place. By the time we got to the show, it was about 8:15, and doors were supposed to open at 8:00. I'm not sure that they did, because there was a very long and stationary line extending around the building and past it into the parking lot. We stood in line for about 45 minutes, occupying our time with picture-taking, as I'm sure you can tell by the photos I've posted. We did spot the frontman of Project 86, Andrew Schwab, snapping some photos of the long line.

After 45 minutes of standing in line, we finally reached the entrance, where we were informed that there was a (singluar) ticket left.

Pancakes.

So we begrudgingly shuffled outside, chins to our chests, pondering what our next move would be. Well, the only logical place to ponder said next move was in front of the tour bus, in the general vicinity of the would-be famous musicians awaiting their turns to be on stage. While there, Lauren consoled me, as my spirits had taken an unexpected dive. I apologized for taking her all the way out there and not even being able to get her into the show. She felt sorry because she knew how much I wanted to see the show, and we could have bought tickets in advance. She tried to tell me that it was a good story anyway, but I didn't believe it. Because so far, our story would go like this:

We went. We stood in line for 45 minutes. We left.

Not cool.

While standing there, we noticed none other than Mr. Schwab walking in what was less like circles and more like random squiggly patterns as he talked on the phone. That's when I had the idea. The only thing that would make this night worthwhile--give us a good story--was to get a picture with Andrew Schwab. Because, hey, if you can't see the show, you should at least get to meet the band, right? So we decided to wait until he got off the phone and ask him.

After we had stood there for about fifteen minutes, a couple of emo high school girls who also could not get into the show walked past us and stood about twenty feet away. My eyes met one of the girls' and I shot her a sympathetic grin. What you gonna do, eh?

The girls stood there no more than one minute before one of the opening band members hopped out of a nearby van full of musicians and walked over to the girls. He made small talk and asked if the show was sold out, which they confirmed.

"Oh yeah? How many people couldn't get in?" he asked with a slight indication of concern.

I caught his attention by saying, "At least four."

He briefly turned his gaze in my direction and eyed Lauren and I for a brief second before promptly returning his attention to the two girls. He then proceeded to apologize to them for the show being sold out and ran past Lauren and I into the back of the building to retrieve tickets for them.

Lauren and I stood and watched in shock. This was wrong for so many reasons.

When he returned to them with the tickets, we heard them making small talk. "Yeah, I've heard of your band, but I haven't heard your music." At this point a security guard walked past us from the building and asked the band member what was going on. He didn't even give Lauren and I a glance.

Apparently, the key to getting noticed at this show was to be female, young, cute, and (preferably) emo. Otherwise, you don't exist.

The girls scampered off to get into the show and Lauren and I stood there in disbelief. I became more determined to get a picture or SOMETHING. Because at this point, the story was more than boring. It was downright sad.

So we talked while we waited and Schwab walked in random circles around us and the vans and the bus, talking on his cell phone. I had my back to the bus when Lauren pointed out to me, "He's off his phone now."

I slowly turned. I had actually dreaded this moment. This moment when I would actually have to officially become that person. You know, that annoying person who actually asks famous people for their picture or an autograph. You know, one of those crazed, demanding, uncool people I try so hard not to be. Sure, it may have seemed slightly cra-cra (a new term for crazy, used among my coworkers) to happen be lingering nonchalantly around the tour bus for no particular reason. But we could have had a reason other than to stalk the band. Perhaps we were waiting for a cab, or needed a ride home. Maybe we were meeting someone. There could have been a reason.

But in that moment when you open your mouth and say something to a famous person, you remove all doubt that it is what you were there for. That is what you so freakishly persistently sought. You are a fan. And by definition, you are not cool.

It all happened in slow motion. I turned and saw that Schwab was indeed off of his cell phone. He was taking off his hoodie and climbing into the bus. I took a tentative step forward and my words got caught in my throat. I do not want to be that person. And before I knew it, the door was closed. Schwab was inside. Now unreachable. I had done it, I was not one of those people. But I was also stuck with a now very pathetic story.

I turned to Lauren and saw the look of disbelief on her face.

"I cannot believe you just did that!"

"You mean what I didn't do?"

Yes, we stood there for an insanely long amount of time and I let the moment we had waited for pass by.

I was disgusted with myself. And I know Lauren was disgusted with me. I wanted to scream, I was so mad at myself.

Then Lauren, who seemed to have a better vantage point than me that night, peered into the bus and could see that he was in there on the couch, seemingly just watching TV. I had not bothered him, so that he could watch TV.

Lauren and I thought about just knocking on the door of the bus--but that is so out of control. So we stood there in utter frustration for what may have been five minutes. When, finally, our saving grace came. A guy walked up to the bus, about to enter, and Lauren caught his attention.

She told him about the show being sold out, and how my boyfriend really likes Project, particularly Schwab. Could we get a picture?
Yeah, absolutely.

That was too easy.

So, Schwab came out and was way nicer than he had to be, which made me not feel so bad. We chatted kind of awkwardly for a while because I was nervous, because I felt bad. I knew I was one of those people. Those fans. Although I'm not even really a fan, I'm like a surrogate fan, because my boyfriend is the real fan, who unfortunately happened to be 3,000 miles away. So I asked when they were going to be in Seattle, and he said they wouldn't be going there on this tour, but they would be at Creation. I explained that I unfortunately wouldn't be there for that because of my summer internship here. He said they may come to Seattle in September. I will be watching for that.

So, I got a picture with Schwab, taken by the lovely Lauren. It's awesome. It makes me smile.

And that's a happy ending to a good story. Mission accomplished.