Night Shirt, Bad Sneakers, School Satchels and Other Assorted Happenings

Once again the absence of blog posts has affected few and went unnoticed by many, but that's not to say that exciting and worthwhile things have not happened. Oh, strike that. Who am I kidding? Anything that has happened since my last post would not be no more than a Dear Diary/daily journal post describing that I did this and that and how I felt while doing them. Since those kinds of post, quite frankly, are b-o-r-i-n-g I have to refrain. Again, who am I kidding? Maybe I will share a few of the happenings and try to put them within the context of something meaningful and thought provoking.

Night Shirt
Got to see Van Morrison in concert for the 2nd time in as many years. You know how live music lovers have their list of artists/groups that they absolutely must see in order to be fulfilled? Well, Van the Man had been on my list for some time. His reputation as a tempermental live performer made me reluctant and his continual touring of Europe and scattered US dates that never came south of the Mason Dixon line were another barrier to enjoying a live performance from one of the most enigmatic vocalists and prolific songwriters of the past 50 years. My husband and I were fortunate to see him perform in Boston last spring and we had an awesome trip to Beantown.

We once again were able to swing seeing him a couple of weeks ago in Fairfax, Virginia. Now DC and surrounding suburbanite people, don't take this the wrong way, but how often do older folks get out to enjoy live music? Other than the fact that for once (in a long time) I was actually under the median concertgoer's age at this show, I felt at odds with the audience in attendance. The guy behind me gave new meaning to obnoxious from the beginning of the opening set. Other than the strong smell of alcohol that wafted over me everytime he let out his feelings of approval with the performance, I could not have been able to tell that maybe he had too much to drink. Now, I'm no teetotaler by any means, but I like to think I can handle my alcohol in public. This guy questioned rather rudely who the opening act was to which I replied it was Jim Hunter. He then went on to say that he still did not know who that was. Honestly, either did I but is that my fault and should I have provided him with a complete bio on the guy when asked if I knew who the opening act was? He also continually bumped the back of my head without one effort at apology.

Not to be outdone, the older gentleman next to me suffered from several concert related afflictions-premature clapping, extended clapping, and a severe case of no rhythmitis. His clapping was so loud and off rhythm and he engaged in said clapping as if he had to be the first one heard after every single solo and as if Mr. Morrison would look up into Section 117 Row C Seat 9 and acknowledge that he was now crowned Number One Van Morrison Fan. By the time the band kicked into the Brown Eyed Girl>Wild Night>Gloria closer he was standing up and swaying his hands and hips as if he was competing on So You Think You Can Dance? Which may be just a rhetorical question but should still have been answered with an emphatic "No, I think not."

Sure, I know I sound like I'm coming off as a holier than thou concert attender who has never done anything that may interfere with other concertgoers' abilities to enjoy the show. Except for that one time at a Chicago Grateful Dead show when I was in the 8th row and puked in the girl's cup that was sitting next to me. I can see how that might have been a little bothersome. But when the alternative was puking all over her and the others siting in my proximity you can see how my solution to the problem was actually rather clever. And in case you were thinking I contradicted my claim before that I can handle my alcohol in public, I'll have you know my nausea was brought on by a bad tuna sub from Subway and not from inebriation.

Bad Sneakers
Segueing rather nicely into the next topic, I also saw Steely Dan last week. I won't go into much more detail about the concert goers at this event other than you could categorize them into either Freaks or Geeks. But that's to be expected at a Steely Dan concert. I thoroughly enjoyed this show because they played only their old stuff. I know artists want to play their new stuff because you can't live in the past, man (say this last sentence in the voice of Tommy Chong to get the right effect). But it was nice to see a classic concert play classic songs. Michael McDonald was touring with them this time and though his vocals add that nice touch that you may remember from Steely Dan classics like Do It Again I have to say he hasn't aged like wine. There were definite constraints to the higher registers of his vocals, but he could still go low so I won't be critical any further. We of course we surrounded with concert goers who were celebrating one of their group member's birthday and though they looked like they weren't born when most of the songs that were played came out they enjoyed themselve immensely. This could be told by the fact that they were literally rolling around on the floor in the aisle. But no puking in cups I assure you.

School Satchels
Well, I'm back in school as of last week. I am taking one of the last 2 courses I need to complete my Masters degree. I am also supposed to be working on my thesis. I have, I think, focused on my topic. I have read various research articles remotely related to that topic and I came up with my research questions. However I still have to firm those up a bit and then get my hypotheses and read some more. I have to admit that I'm feeling quite discouraged but only out of low self confidence than anything else. I tend to do that. I am very hard on myself and feel unsure of myself until I completely delve into a project. Once I get to that point I usually feel much better and usually succeed. I have been lucky with school work most of my life. It has come pretty easy to me so I don't have to exert too much effort. The down side of that is that it's disheartening when you actually have to put effort into something because you're not really all that used to it. But since this subject is so depressing and keeping with my theme of articles of clothing and accessories from my post title I can relay a hilarious story from the past.

Part of my job involves outreach and recruitment for our program. Before I became manager I had to go out frequently across the state to do presentations on our program in an effort to recruit participants. One of these events was held at the Concord Public Library. My co-worker and I accompanied our contact person to the upstairs room where the event was to be held. It was like a little conservatory room with a piano, small stage and a seating area. When we opened the door to the room we kind of heard a bump, thump but thought nothing of it. The room was completely dark when the door opened and the lady who set up our presentation was fumbling around for the light switch to the room. As we entered the darkened room and the woman announced "Where is that light switch?" it occurred to us what that bump, thump noise was.

For as we stood there a door on the opposite end of the room abruptly swung open letting in a shaft of light totally illuminating the sillouettes of two naked bodies who were for some reason escaping the room at this particular time. It didn't take much to put it altogether and realize that these two lovebirds had been engaging in some kind of activity that has never before this time occurred in a public library (yeah, right? Librarians out there prove me wrong). The woman finally finds the light switch and is obviously flustered by this development. Once the bright lights come on we can see clothes and back packs strewn across the floor. Then a rather sheepish looking gentleman, a boy really, comes back into the room in his boxers from the door he had just exited. I guess to retrieve the belongings.

I can imagine the conversation that took place leading up the moment of passion:

Him: "C'mon baby. Who is going to find us in the conservatory room. I promise you, it will be private, no one will ever know. They never use this room."

Then I can imagine the conversation that ensued after the interrpuption

Her: "You better get your ass back in there and get my clothes & book bag if you ever want to get in my pants again!"

As the embarrassed guy walked in gathering their belongings the woman who turned the light switch on and started this chain of events calls after the guy: "Don't forget your satchels!"

It was the funniest thing I had ever heard. I haven't heard anyone call book bags by the old fashioned name-SATCHEL-since maybe on Little House on the Prairie. The poor woman was so embarrassed and then the librarian who was the stereotypical 40 something nerdy and awkward librarian type came in to hook up the AV equipment. He was as red as a beet and assured us they made sure the culprits had left the building. He also promised that nothing like this has ever happened in the library before. (Again, yeah right!)

Fortunately my co-worker and I have wonderful senses of humor so we got a kick out of this. It sure made a great story to tell.

I know I promised to attempt to put these anecdotes into some meaningful context. Oh, who am I kidding? It is what it is.