I am so glad I went.
There were a million reasons why Coachella wasn’t a good idea. I had been sick for 10 days. I shouldn’t be spending money when my job is uncertain. I had to leave late Thursday night, after Parent Night, meaning a long drive down California in the middle of the night, when I was already tired. Still, somehow, deep inside, I had an inkling that going was just what the doctor ordered.
As we set out down the road, late Thursday night, with the music loud & the stars shining above, I knew that I’d made the right choice. Sure, driving through the night when you’ve been awake since 5 am, & worked a 12 hour day seems kind of ridiculous, but I managed to stay awake the whole trip & watching the sun rise over the desert was gorgeous. I spent the car ride & trip with my old friend, Brian, my original partner in Coachella crime back in 2008. The conversation in the car ranged from silly to serious back again — the sort of conversations you can only have at 5 AM when you’re exhausted & trapped in a car. It was a great start to the trip.
We made it to Indio & set up camp with visions of a mid-morning nap dancing in our heads. Instead, it was hot as hell & the people next to us were blaring Howard Stern & then moved on to horrible 70′s rock & the kids who’d been up all night were running around camp like whoa. Instead, we got dressed for the day & headed into the festival to grab a spot on the grass for a nap in the shade before shows began.
Resting under the shade of a tent in the Do Lab, an art installation + DJ dance area
The day started with a mellow performance by Jets Overhead, a band I’d only heard a smattering of before leaving. They were chill, but very talented & the lead singer was incredibly happy. After a mellow morning, the rapper P.O.S. kicked things up a notch with some sarcastic lyrics & amazing beats — it was the shot of energy needed to get things really started. As Tall As Lions played next, & their set was okay, but didn’t warrant watching the whole thing. I’d had a sneaking suspicion that they might be better in studio than they were live, & yeah, I was right. Instead, we high-tailed it over the the Avett Brothers, who for me, played a flawless set, full of my favorites: January Wedding, Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full of Promise & I And Love And You. It was a soulful set, full of a lot of emotion for me, & by far, one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time. After that set, it was back to the dance tent for Proxy, who was mind-blowingly awesome. The set was full of energy & cutting loose in the dance tent is always a good time. She & Him was up next & their set was adorable. Or at least Zooey Deschanel was. Next, back to the dance tent! Wolfgang Garter & Pretty Lights did two awesome sets, leading to three hours of dancing. After dinner, it was time for Imogen Heap, one of the most insanely talented people I’ve ever seen perform, ever. She does all of her own tracks, meaning that if she’s performing something with a drum riff in the background, she plays it first & records it using a leaper so you can hear it in the track. Her sound team was absolute crap, but she was still AMAZING. Her voice was incredible & she is seriously so cute.
Imogen!
After Imogen, we caught a few minutes of Benny Benassi, before moving on to the next one: Jay-Z. Jay-Z absolutely killed it, going through almost his entire catalogue of hits, getting the entire crowd to bounce with him & bringing out Beyonce to finish the set with Forever Young, before closing it with Encore.
We made it back to camp, & I slept so hard. I had been up for 44 hours straight, save for a little nap, & had no problem sleeping through the partiers around me. It was sweet, sweet sleep.
On Saturday, we sort of napped while watching John Waters (yes, the filmmaker) tell some of the most offensive jokes I’ve ever heard. Next, we headed over to hear Sam XL & Jason Bently spin in the dance tent, before heading over to see Camera Obscura. I have loved Camera Obscura for awhile, & their last album was my soundtrack through some difficult times. Seeing them was on my Life List & I was SO STOKED to cross it off. They were so cute & fun & it was great to hear the songs I’d grown to love so much live.
Another piece of art from an installation...
Next up was The Temper Trap, whose rendition of their major hit, “Sweet Disposition” didn’t disappoint. We checked out Band of Skulls, who were a little hard rock for my taste, before going to the dance tent once again for Dirty South, who was definitely one of the best DJ’s I’ve ever seen, ever. We caught part of The XX, who were cool, but a little too mellow to really hold my attention. After some dinner, we saw MGMT, who were sadly a total disappointment — they sounded like they hadn’t really been practicing, & sort of gave off a “we’re too cool for school” vibe. I was sad, because I love that band. For our final foray into the dance tent, we saw Z-Trip, who is a mash-up artist. He may officially replace Girl Talk as my favorite. It was an absolutely amazing set. Tiesto closed down the night — we caught a few minutes before heading over to see Sia, one of my all-time favorite artists & a great way to end the festival. Sadly, work was calling, so Sunday meant driving home. Still, so much awesome packed into two days.
These bracelets were everywhere. I’m sort of naive, but judging by the fact that one reads “DRUG” I’m guessing these have some sort of…meaning. I don’t know.
There were so many great moments over this weekend: conversations that made me laugh until I had tears, amazing people watching, seeing musicians I’ve loved & respected for so long put on amazing shows, discovering new DJ’s that I know will comprise much of my summer playlist.
One of my favorite moments came when I was in the dance tent, feeling the beat reverberate through every bone, cell & pore, jumping & dancing my heart out, when I was caught off guard by happiness. It’s been a hell of a year, rife with stress & tears & uncertainty, but there, in that moment, jumping along to a Daft Punk sample against a rap beat, I felt a joy & peace that I hadn’t had in months. Maybe it’s weird to find peace in a moment where you can’t even hear yourself think, but that’s where it was, in a white tent, under a hot desert sky.
Who knew that here, in the lights & the noise, is where I’d be surprised by happiness.
I am so glad I went.
{photo via weheartit}
The dreaded Valentine’s day week is upon us.
I have a confession to make: I freaking love Valentine’s Day. Weird? Maybe. I love the pink and red (my two favorite colors, especially together!) that spill out all over stores. I love all of the cute cards and fun stuff. I love the idea of love—of a day dedicated to telling those you care about that you care. I know that some of you are thinking that of course I love it—I’m not single. But in all honesty, one of my best Valentine’s Day experiences came in one of the roughest years of my life.
My year from hell had just ended, and the boy I loved had moved back to Oregon. I was living alone, and I was lonely. My original plan for Valentine’s Day involved a lot of libations and Alanis Morrisette, but my day changed dramatically in ways I never would have expected. My good friend Matt called and asked to take me to lunch, and after lunch? Bought me a ton of See’s Candy “just because.” I was working as a massage therapist at the time, and my boss called me to help him with a massage appointment…except, when I arrived, the massage was for me, because he knew I’d been working hard and having a rough time. My mom sent me an adorable card with a Starbucks gift card. A girlfriend dropped off some daisies on my doorstep.
I felt incredibly loved, despite having absolutely NO romantic love in my life.
I’ve never forgotten that day—a day when the people around me thought about me, and did so many nice things to show me how much they loved and cared about me. Instead of being angry or bitter when I’m alone, every year I try and do something nice for someone else. I’ve made cookies for friends, brought flowers to the ladies I’ve worked with, put anonymous chocolates into other teacher’s boxes, mailed cards to faraway friends and done a variety of small, silly things to show my love to others.
This year, I’d love to challenge YOU, dear friends and readers to do the same: Be a Valentine. Maybe you don’t have a special someone to have a fancy dinner with, but do something. Send your mom a present. Donate to Love Harder. Buy lunch for a co-worker. Send a lonely friend some flowers. Pay for a stranger’s coffee at Starbucks. Tip a waitress 100% of the bill. Let someone in on the freeway. DO SOMETHING. And then? Come back and tell me about it.
Love doesn’t always come in romantic forms—let Valentine’s Day be a day when you put love into the world in some small way.
*I’m blogging through my school years: Preschool one & two, kindergarten, first grade and second grade can be found by clicking on each of them.*
Thinking about third grade makes me smile to this day. To a little kid, it had all the markings of a great school year. My mom and I used to go Back To School shopping every summer, and I remember laying out my clothes for my first day of third grade weeks in advance. A new school had been built just around the corner from my house, and we were the first students to attend. Everything was brand new—the asphalt was so dark and smelled of fresh tar. The classrooms were lovely and clean, and I remember being so excited.
When my dad took me to meet my teacher, I was suddenly nervous. I wore my favorite pink sundress and clutched his hand tightly as we walked to my classroom. As soon as the door opened, my new teacher, Mrs. Airoldi approached me. She bent down, introduced herself, and asked if she could give me a hug.
“I think that’s the best hug I’ve ever gotten!” she exclaimed. “I think you’re going to be my hugger this year!”
I smiled, and felt instantly comfortable—and to this day, I like to think that I give good hugs.
One blog post could never sum up the affect that Mrs. Airoldi had on my life that year. Mrs. A introduced me to Writer’s Workshop—she encouraged me to write, to tell my stories and to publish them. We read books—both as a class and on our own. When we answered questions correctly, we got to take a “smartie” which was basically a cherry sour candy that came from a gumball machine. Even math was fun. We practiced multiplication using timed tests, and turned practicing our times tables into a game. EVERYTHING was fun.
Mrs. Airoldi used to write each of us little notes that she’d put into our “mailbox” describing the good things we did. She was a master at encouraging her students with positive attention, and I loved her for it. The standards were high in her class—but instead of demanding the best, she made us want to give it to her. If our class got compliments for our behavior, she noted it. After several such compliments, she through us a big party to celebrate our good behavior. Mrs. Airoldi made every child in her class feel special. We are in touch to this day, emailing, sharing Christmas cards and keeping in touch. As a teacher, she remains my biggest inspiration and influence. I am forever grateful that she was my teacher.
One BIG thing from my third grade year was my first boyfriend, Terry. I wrote him secret love notes and put them in his desk. I had NO IDEA he knew it was me—until our mom’s talked at church, and she shared a few of the notes with her. Yes, they were innocuous little tokens of love, but ohmygoodness, having him KNOW and show HIS MOM, and having her SHOW MY MOM? I was mortified. Thankfully, my affections were returned, and on Valentine’s Day, I received a giant chocolate present, with three separate pieces of chocolate reading I LOVE U. I was touched. Terry and I started “going out” and didn’t break up ’til 4th grade. “Going out” included hanging out at lunch and recess and me occasionally going over to his house to play Lego’s. Terry was also oddly obsessed with falcons and used to raise birds. That basically scared the crap out of me—I hate birds.
In third grade, we performed a musical called “Goin’ Buggy” with lots of cute songs about, well…bugs. I was cast as Lana The Ladybug, who had a solo song. I was ecstatic, but sadly, my star performance was thwarted by salmonella, which I contracted late in the school year. It was…awful. I threw up at school, threw up at home every day for about a week, had a super high fever and was sicker than I’d ever been. Even worse, salmonella is a bacteria that lies dormant in your system; if it grows back, you can relapse. Basically, I was the friend who’d throw up at your house. Not cute.
Salmonella and embarrassing boy moments aside, third grade is one of my best, most memorable years.
Late this afternoon, Andrew and I decided to head to Borders to hang out. He really loves reading magazines and drinking coffee in the cafe area and I felt like getting out of the house, so we got our Starbucks and settled in. I was checking out a few different books and Andrew was engrossed in a magazine when I felt someone looking at me.
A young, blonde girl walking with a cane was standing over me. She smiled in recognition, and I blinked a few times as she approached our table.
“Amy?! Did you go to Rocklin High?” she asked in slow, deliberate speech.
I nearly fell out of my chair.
The last time I saw this girl, she was a junior in high school. She was blonde, sassy and vivacious. Some might have even said she had a bit of an attitude, an edge to her, and though she and I had a class or two together and always got along fine, that was not always the case for her and her peers. But most of all, she was alive. Blissfully normal. A teenage girl with her whole future ahead of her. I know she’d planned on college and a full life and it seemed that she’d get it. I lost track of her by my senior year, as she’d moved on to attend a continuation high school.
But tonight, she stood in front of me at Borders, a completely different girl than the one I’d known 10 years prior.
She explained to me that she’d fallen out of an 8th story window during a random trip to Chicago she’d taken at age 21. Her back, neck and pelvis had been broken, and she’d worked her way from a wheelchair to a walker to a cane. Her speech was slow and she had clearly been affected both mentally and physically by this devastating accident. She explained that her goal was to finish an Easter Seals re-hab program, stop using her cane completely and go back to her job selling gym memberships at 24-Hour Fitness and attend a college closer to Sacramento. Her eyes filled with tears when she shared that some of her friends weren’t the same after her accident, and that they’d “ditched her.” She told me she loves church and working out and still has so much hope for a normal life, one where she can work in marketing and spend time with her friends and family.
She asked about my life, and told Andrew I was lovely and seemed so sweet and grateful to simply be up and moving around and alive.
This year has completely overwhelmed me with reminders of how quickly things can change. One minute, my grandma was just my healthy, active, normal grandma until she ate something terrible and was nearly killed by silent bacteria. One doctor’s appointment completely altered my dad’s life, starting us down a journey that has changed our family. And now, to see a girl that was young, vibrant and alive completely changed by something so crazy and random.
It makes you think. It makes me think about all of my first-world problems I spend time complaining about. It makes me think about how darn grateful I should be for every day when I can walk, breathe, hug, live and enjoy the life I’ve been given. It makes me want to stop focusing on all of the crap that life hands us, and start focusing on the gift that is every single NORMAL day, when we can just exist. It drives home the point once again that life, no matter how difficult, is a BLESSING. I know that these are cheesy sentiments usually reserved for Hallmark’s “Encouragement” section, but I feel like life has hit me over the head this year with this truth: BE GRATEFUL, be brave, be alive.
I hugged her as she left and she asked if I hang out at Borders a lot. I told her we do, and I meant it when I said I hope I see her again. And when she walked away, I brushed tears from my cheeks.
My first full-time job after college was working at an art center for developmentally disabled adults. These adults were people who had disabilities ranging from seizure disorder to mental retardation to autism. It was my first time teaching, and I got to teach everything from life skills like budgeting and hygiene to creative writing to a senior class with the older clients, where we’d play Bingo and go to the Dollar Tree and just hang out. I worked there for about a year and a half, and I loved it. Sadly, this job coincided with the most difficult time of my life and the stress I felt affected my job performance, and because of that, combined with some other issues there, that they decided to eliminate my position. It was awful. After a year and a half of forming relationships with staff, with clients and with people, I was gone in an afternoon.
It broke my heart.
During my time there, I had my heart softened and my life changed by the amazing people who went there more than once. But one person taught me one of the most important lessons I’ve ever learned in my 26 years.
James was a great man who was wheelchair bound. He was a talented artist and a really sweet guy. Yes, he had his “moments” when he could be difficult, such as the afternoon I spent coaching him in our recycling center where he cried with every paper he shredded. But, for the most part, he was an absolute delight. I loved talking with him in the morning when he got off the bus.
When I was having a hard time, one of the side effects was a debilitating stomach issue. I had to undergo a battery of tests and was off of work for a few days. James had recently been out with his own stomach issues, and when I returned he was SO HAPPY to see me. He told me all about his medications and we sympathized about how awful heartburn and the associated medications could be.
James then asked me to go to the ceramics studio with him, where he proudly presented me with two bookends he’d made me while I’d been out. He had painted them pink, and told me how carefully he’d worked on them, since he knew I loved to read. At the end of our conversation, James took my hand and said, “You know what, Amy? I was worried about you. I love you, Amy. I am so glad you’re here. I just love you.”
I froze. See, when you work with the developmentally disabled, there are rules—parameters for THEIR safety. Often, people who are abusive or unhealthy attach themselves to those who are disabled. As staff, we were forbidden from being TOO affectionate; from saying things like, “I love you” or anything that would convey a serious attachment. Though I understood the reasoning behind it—to keep them from crossing boundaries that were not appropriate, the truth was that I LOVED many of my clients. When James said he loved me, I wanted to reciprocate, to tell him that I loved him too.
Instead? I thanked him, and went on about my day. It hung around in the back of my mind for the next few days, especially when I’d see his pink bookends on my bookshelf.
When I arrived at work a few mornings later, the staff was pulled into an emergency meeting, where we were told James had died. Apparently, it wasn’t just heartburn, it was an infection that was killing him. I remember sitting in our staff room, staring at the fake wood grain, unsure of what to say or do. A friend of mine stroked my back as I re-told the story of our conversation, in hushed tones. I didn’t cry.
At James’ memorial a few days later, we released white balloons at my suggestion. All of the staff and clients wrote messages, put them in the balloons and sent them up, up, up—our way of saying what we needed to say. I remember pausing to write mine, unsure of what to express to this precious man I’d cared so much about. I’ll never remember what I wrote exactly, but I know that I made James a promise: that I’d never, ever falter when it came to telling someone I loved them. That I’d never, ever hesitate, even if I was scared, or if it was messy, or if it could be risky.
I wish I could say that I’d always kept my promise. For the most part I have. I try and tell those I love exactly what I feel, as often as I can. And yes, it’s scary and sometimes I still clam up, and sometimes it comes out wrong.
But, sometimes, I see a white balloon, and I think of James, and then? Then I’m not so afraid.
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This work by www.justatitch.com is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.