February 17, 2009 – 8:34 am
What’s odd, and perhaps ironic, at least in the Alanis Morrisette sense of the word, is that my greatest fears leading up to a concert all revolve around getting there in one piece. I’m not a morbidly fearful kind of guy, despite nearly killing myself in a motorcycle accident early last year, despite nearly becoming a hood ornament for a drunk in a truck around the middle of last year, and yes, despite getting my rear bumper tagged just this past week IN MY BRAND NEW… (deep, calming breaths; deep, calming breaths; deep – calming — breaths).
Where was I? Not a fearful kind of guy. When I need to go somewhere, I usually just go, and assume I’m going to get there. But when I’m heading to a concert, I worry far more about getting there with all needed equipment than what I’m going to do once I get on stage and the funny man with the white pointy stick is waving it at me (once I get on stage, I do plenty of worrying about what the funny man is doing and whether I’m doing the right thing back, but that’s another blog post). Probably some psychological thing about worrying about the things you think you can control instead of the things you know you can’t, or something. Read the rest of this entry »
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