we all want the lovely music to save our lives
Another week has whooshed past. Last night was the busiest night yet: I left work early to take Blake and myself to the dentist, rushed home so that my whole family could go to Blake's school's open house and eat hot dogs, then spent an hour marking papers before rushing over to my new dance class. (I'm taking a hula class this fall, because clearly I don't have enough to do.*) I feel like one of those completely over-programmed kids we all read about in editorials. This is not the life for a slacker like myself.
While bolting down hot dogs, I met Blake's best friend at school, the boy whom Blake admires for his "beautiful brown skin." Probably Blake didn't notice that the two of them are exactly alike in that they're running, screaming, jumping partners in crime because that was completely obvious.
Last night I also worked on getting rid of two Broken Social Scene tickets that my foolish impetuous heart demanded I purchase immediately when they extended their tour to Montreal. How was I to anticipate that two weeks later, a Toronto date would be announced? I thought about sucking it up and going to Montreal anyway, but I realized how foolish and inconvenient it was all becoming. It wasn't just the concert, it was 12 hours of driving and a place to spend the night and missing Blake's trick-or-treating and rushing to make it back to NotAnArtist's wedding the next day. The possibility of seeing Amy and Evan and throwing a big haunch of smoked meat on the gifts table when we got back couldn't compensate. So I decided to be sensible.
I called the label to ask if there was anything they could do for me, and they were very nice in their refusal. Then I wondered if I knew anyone in Montreal who would take the tickets. (This is complicated by the fact that the tickets don't have corporeal existence; they'll be at the will-call desk.) All of this led me to the surprising conclusion: I'm giving my tickets to my ex boyfriend Alexi, and trusting him to give me some money at some point (if he can get in at all). I can't think of very many people who would go to a concert hall on spec, but he's definately one of them. Or, he was ten years ago; I'm sure he's a little different now.
* in truth, I'm taking this class because when Juuki took a leave of absence, I had a course credit to resolve. Since I don't want to confuse myself with another style of belly dance and I'm not really cut out for ballet or tap, I gravitated toward hula dancing. It's been fun so far - a lot of hip shaking without all of the discipline I've come to associate with belly dance. Of course, now that I'm in a belly dance troupe, I have to be good, whereas I can be the biggest hula screw-up and not care. Ah, the pressure of a submerged Type A personality.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*