Rock & Roll Suicide

. . . This is a poster that local rock-art phenom and all around sweetie Leia Bell made. After our recent move I discovered that between Lars and I, we have an actual collection of her work and on top of absolutely loving it, her recent and completely deserved success has rendered it all quite valuable. I've decided to start matting and framing them. I think they'll look amazing in our house and I can't wait to display them. The only other framed art we own is by our friend Anita and there's just something wonderful about surrounding yourself with beautiful art, made by your friends. (Do you hear me, artist friends?)
This particular print is one of my favorites and not just because it serves my ego by having my band on it, but it's one of the first that she ever made and I feel proud to be part of it. Looking at this poster reminds me of how happy being in a band used to make me.
Being in a band is totally weird. When I think back to how excited I was around the time this poster was made, it's almost embarrassing. I was making music. I was a part of something. At that time, I'd been playing drums for exactly 9 months and it didn't matter that I wasn't great, I was having a good time with friends. A few weeks before this show we performed at our first benefit show. Angie, Tawnya and myself organized it. It was a benefit for the Rape Recovery Center here in Salt Lake. We booked mostly female bands, female artists, dancers and filmmakers. It was amazing and for the first time in my life I really felt like I had done something good. I had taken the initiative and I made something happen. Me and my friends.
I'm not sure when I lost the joy. Salt Lake isn't the most female friendly music scene in the world...and that was definitely part of it, though I think my own social anxiety played a bigger part. See, I hate... literally hate going to places where I know that I will run into acquaintances. Isn't that bizarre?? It took me a long time to learn this about myself, but it's true. I become filled with absolutely paralyzing dread when I think I might have to make small talk. The odd thing is that I always seem to pull it off. I can talk and smile and I'm nice, but inside I'm completely freaking out. Well, being in a band requires the small talk scenario on a regular basis...and it has, over the years made me dread playing shows. Better said, it makes me dread going to/ being at shows. I still completely LOVE the playing part.
It's just such an odd sensation to feel your greatest joy and your greatest fear simultaneously.
We're playing this Friday night at a little place called Sugar Beats. I'm trying to be excited about it. I want to be excited about it.
Is it possible to get that shiny new feeling back again?