Here's How I Played Music in the Azores

Blog, I know you might be wondering how I was able to get two gigs playing Dirty Curls songs on an Azorian island in the middle of the ocean. Well, just like everything that requires you to make an ass of yourself in front of strangers, it's all about who you know. And I happen to know this guy:

Don't worry. He's big in Portugal.

Sergio runs Praia Rock Café, which I actually wrote about here after my first trip to Terceira back in May of 2012. Turns out Sergio came across that article a few months later and befriended me on Facebook since he remembered me from my visit. Ever since, I've been invited to copious beer pong events that I have no interest or ability in attending.

But when I was standing in line to check my bag at Logan International in Boston at the very beginning of my trip, the couple in front of me asked about my guitar*. We were all on our way to the same place, so they were wondering where I would be playing. I hadn't actually planned on playing a show while I was on the island, but was open to the idea. I mentioned I knew Sergio at Praia Rock and they knew exactly what I was talking about, because this world isn't that big after all. And maybe because Terceira could easily fit in the 494-694 loop (for you Minneapolites' reference) and has a population of 50,000 and everyone knows everyone else. Seriously. That bag check line was like a big Portuguese family reunion. So was the plane. And customs.

Anyway, long story short, I contacted Sergio about playing and he agreed and got me set up. Dirty comedy music that is sung explicitly in English may seem like a weird choice for a bar in Portugal, but like my first article mentioned, the bar is located right outside of the front gate of the base. It's swarming with Americans. So much so, there's American shit all over the walls:

American shit = money and license plates.

And so I got to play dirty songs about threesomes and Joe Biden for Americans who were able to appreciate all the naughty humor that goes with something like lusting after the vice president. The first of my two nights on stage lead me to be invited to sing for the main act, Tommy and the Time Machine. However, while I can hold my own singing erotic bluegrass with my guitar, it turns out I have a tough time incorporating my voice into a classic rock cover band because I get distracted by things like Pedro's electric bass prowess that is second to none.



But that other girl from North Dakota knew exactly what she was doing.

Despite my ironic stage fright, I still had a great time at Praia Rock. I have to say I teared up when the airport shuttle passed by it on our way to the plane. Sometimes it's only when you leave a place that you realize just how familiar it's become to you.

So thanks Sergio and Tommy and the Time Machine, and everyone else who came out to see me play in such a far off land. If I ever manage to reproduce humans who in turn reproduce more humans, I'll tell them about it as they're getting me ready for my sponge bath, or Sunday outing, or whatever it is that I won't be able to do for myself by then because I'm old.



*Fact: When you travel with an instrument, everyone automatically thinks you're cool and probably a little famous. So next time you travel, pack your shit in an instrument case (or just bring an instrument) and let the questions and awe rain down.

Spring Fake-Out Week Seems to Have Struck Again

Blog, I'm going to write a short post about the weather because I like to rant about tedious things.

First things first, I'm in South Carolina and it's 50 degrees outside. I'm winning right now.

However, Facebook has made me aware that this past weekend was what I like to call "spring fake-out week" in Minnesota. It was melty and wonderful out. People probably ditched their parkas for short shorts and roller-blades as they made their through melted slush in a burst of cabin-fever-related insanity. It happens every year. I'm doubt my absence has caused any change in this.

But remember Blog, it's "spring fake-out week". This means that winter has made you think that it's ok to wear short shorts and roller blades, BUT DON'T LET IT MAKE A FOOL OF YOU.

While this weekend's Facebook posts consisted of excitement and joy pertaining to the reminder that summer is a thing, this Monday's posts have turned to school cancellations (in North Dakota anyway) and the usual curmudgeony grumbling about an endless winter. It's still March, Blog. Blizzards are a thing. For me, they're a thing until April.

As I mentioned, I'm in South Carolina. It's 50 degrees outside. I'm one lucky S.O.B. right about now. However, I return to the land of lakes on Saturday evening. I'm beyond excited to be home and see my friends and know my way around again. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed and see the Minneapolis skyline. But Minneapolis is in Minnesota and it's March. This is my spring fake-out week. Hell, it's been spring fake-out months. It all seems nice and easy and warm and wonderful now; like this is how life ought to be. But in a mere five days, I'll be reminded that winter is still a thing and I won't be in the clear for another two months (by my standards). A blizzard is happening at home as I speak. Who cares if it was just 40 degrees and amazing up there? IT MEANS NOTHING.

Time to make the most of the warm air and clear roads while I still can. It won't always be this way, Blog. Also, I need to eat some BBQ before The South and I part ways, but that's another tedious entry for another day.

Super Sweet Birthday Post

Another year of life lived, Blog! I always try to post a little somethin' somethin' on my birthday, and this year is no different. I ended last year's entry with an optimistic "I'm going to try and make 28 the best I can make it." Even though I fell into a weird winter funk shortly after that, I feel like I eventually got my ass in gear and made some really scary but exciting decisions. I learned that when you say yes to stuff, you can end up in an elementary school with a bunch of 3rd and 4th graders singing happy birthday to you. And then you can end up at a Pizza Hut afterwards, gorging yourself on the lunch buffet. And then you can go on a lovely walk with your tour partner in the sunshine and point out how you happen to be wearing all black and standing in front of a high school taking a picture. Oops. And then you can spend the afternoon perusing Facebook and all the lovely people you know who took the time to wish you a happy birthday. And then you can talk on the phone with your friends. And after that you can go roller skating and not fall even once! But afterwards while you're watching The Bachelor special, your legs start feeling a little weird because roller skating is something that you don't really do... ever.

What I'm trying to say, Blog, is that I had a really great birthday today. And I didn't drink any alcohol whatsoever! That makes me sound like a lush, doesn't it. But let's face it, Blog. I'm usually going to have a drink of some sort when there is cause for celebration. Being an adult is fun, but doing kid things (like an impromptu foot race across a roller skating rink) can also be fun.

So now I'm in the last year of my twenties. Frankly, they've been all over the place. I've earned a bachelors degree, and have moved from what I once thought was a city (that would be Bemidji) to Minneapolis. I stumbled through three long-term relationships only to continue to stumble through dating. I've gotten stuck in an office job, yet traveled to more countries than I could have ever imagined (I've never imagined traveling to vast amounts of countries, for the record, it's been like 6). I've shunned playing music for years only to join a band within the last six months. I feel like I've figured it out over and over again and now am realizing I probably never will. I can only do what I want to do to the best of my abilities, which are growing because I've putzed around so much in my twenties. I guess that's what they're for. To one more year of putzing! Then shit gets real.

Putzing = Overly Posed Skating

 

Hello Visitors!

Blog! We're hanging out two days in a row?! What is this nonsense? I'll tell you what it is. Lately I've been on a coffee house kick. I'm finding it to be a good way to get out of the hotel and get to know my surroundings a bit. Since tonight is Friday, I thought about trying my hand at stepping it up a notch and perusing a local bar for a glass of wine, but Charlotte is a big city, Blog. There is a part of me that doesn't want to misstep and end up at the weird bar where all the douches go. And again, Charlotte is a big city. Looking at all my options of where to go became overwhelming and when I saw that there was a Caribou just a few miles from where we're staying, I decided to hole up in a corner with this song in my ears (I'm into making myself sad with music, ok?).

Anyway, as you know Blog, I've started to post links to you on Facebook whenever I write. This is a huge step for me in my blogging experience since for years I've been incredibly aloof with anything I write. I've always written on the internet about my life (well, since 2006 anyway), but have never really let people know about it. Just before I left for tour, I decided to be a little bit bolder with you and cleaned you up to the best of my abilities so more than just me and the three other people who know about you could read you at will. I'm realizing now that there is a chance I might be writing for an actual audience... well, one that is made up of tens of people since last night's post appears to have gotten a whopping (by my standards) 40 views. I don't think I read what I wrote 40 times, so I'm going to assume we've had a few visitors.

I think we should acknowledge our new friends, Blog, since you are just an internet entity that I have personified with whatever ramblings that come out of my fingertips, and those who visit us are actual people with souls and jobs and stuff. So thank you for hanging out with Blog and I, visitors! We hope that you make us a regular part of your internet adventures. I also hope you don't mind that I basically have made Blog into the equivalent of an invisible friend. If you want to learn more about where I'm coming from on the whole thing, you can always check out my About Blog and I page.

Back to coffee-housing. There is a lively card game happening over yonder. Who knew a Caribou would be such a hopping place on a Friday night?

My New Life (and a Sundog)

Well Blog, I quit my job last Friday and have put 400 miles on my car in the last two days. I still feel like I'm on a Christmas vacation of sorts, but I received a Facebook note about how today would normally be my late day at the job I just quit, and I realized that it's indeed happened. I don't have to answer to a phone queue anymore. I'm no longer at learners' beck and call. I don't have to calculate GPAs and talk people out of taking Tests and Measurements with Stats next quarter. Even better: January 7th isn't the start of a quarter anymore. It's an idle Monday; one where I'll be in rehearsal with the NTC.

At the moment, I'm in North Dakota. Home. Being here during Christmas time is something that I haven't done in years. It's a little weird. A few weeks ago my roommate Andy asked me what my favorite ornament from my childhood was. I found that I wasn't able to answer him because I haven't been home to my mom's for so long to even see what ornaments she has from when we were kids. Upon arriving in Finley tonight, I noticed that she has decked her tree with a matching assortment of red and gold balls and stars. I like it. I also have realized I'm sentimental about specific things. Apparently Christmas ornaments haven't made the cut since I haven't gathered the gumption to search the basement for what is left of this time of year circa 1990.

In other, more exciting news, 48 hours from now I'm going to be in Iowa. I know. Iowa naturally equals immense excitement. But I'll be winding down from a show at some bar that has decided to pay us in t-shirts. That's not a thing that happens to me. I can't quite wrap my mind around it, but I'm sure it will all make sense once we're on the road. I'm hoping it will make sense once we're on the road. If I think about the future too much these days, I stop believing that I've actually taken a step toward this life. The present is going to be the best place to keep my thoughts, I think. It's where I'm the happiest anyway. Might as well live it up where I most currently am. My most recent situation tells me that place is the frozen prairie. Tomorrow that place is going to be a seedy bar in Fargo. The next night? Iowa. After that? Chicago.

But as I said, the present is the best place to be. So is the past. Maybe not 1990 though. But a couple days ago, I got the most kickass picture of a sundog. Check it, Blog:

This is what happens when it's legit cold outside. .

It was weird, Blog. I was driving to see my Dad for Christmas Eve and I looked up into the sky for some reason to see where the sun was. I was surprised to see a dull point of light. It was bright outside and the light that was cast on the prairie wasn't the kind that is done so by a cloud-muted sun. But that's what this light looked like. After a moment I realized that I wasn't looking at the sun, but at a sundog. I had just explained to Kerin what a sundog was a few days before; mentioning that I hadn't seen one in years. And here one was with me on my drive to Herman on Christmas Eve. Sundogs are one of the two things I like about the cold, Blog. I'll let you guess what the second one is.

Hint: It's not worrying about my car starting.

With that, I have drunk a bottle of wine, Blog. It's time to turn in. Here's to hoping I get a chance to update you on my band tour adventures. Tomorrow we tackle the great city of Fargo. I can't wait.

Writing a Writer

Blog, should I facebook renowned author Chuck Klosterman about the day I was born? I don't really have a reason other than to simply tell him I was born on the day on which he set his fictional book Downtown Owl. I know nothing else of anything he has ever writ. Yes. Writ. Here's what I came up with when I had a couple of glasses of wine in me the other night:

Dear Chuck Klosterman,

I've never read anything you've written. For that, I'm sorry. You've been a suggested author for me to look into since I first heard of you in 2006. I've never heeded anyone's advice on this, and I'm not sure why. But I don't really read anyone's shit these days, so don't feel like I'm avoiding you. Au contraire. Lookit. I'm writing you a facebook message. (I figured the best way to contact him directly would be the message him on facebook, no?)

The reason I'm messaging you is because though I've never read anything you've written, I know you've written a thing about the day I was born. Perhaps it's better to say that you took the day I was born and made it the setting of a book of yours. At least I think you did. A few months ago my sister in law texted me a picture of a striking article from the Fargo Forum dated February 5th 1984; my birthday. It described the freak snowstorm I was born in. I was amazed that she had sent me such a thing. She told me it was in the front pages of your book Downtown Owl. Perhaps it was included as a real life anecdote to give context of where your fictional story took place.

I was supposed to be born in Morris, MN, but because of that freak storm I was born at home in Herman, MN on the comfort of a waterbed. You can ask my parents about the details of how that went down if you want. A few weeks later me and this other kid named Scott (who I've never met) were featured on the front page of Herman's newspaper dubbed as "snow babies" since we were both born under unconvential circumstances. Since then, the people in my family reminisce about where they were the day I was born; how suddenly there was a white wall of snow that blinded everyone and how there were people who died in their cars. I've created this idea of what that day was like in my mind, even though I know my version of it is nothing close to what actually happened.

Maybe I should read your book and find out what your take on it is. I guess I just wrote you to tell you about this thing of which we both know and how it has impacted our lives in its particular way. You got a published novel out of it, I got a mailing address as my place of birth on my birth certificate. Potato, potato, am I right?

Anyway, I hope you have a good day, Chuck. Way to be from North Dakota. I'm from there too, but that's a different drunken letter for a different drunken day.

Bye!

Sam

Maybe I'll just hold on to this for now. Wine makes me do things that don't translate well into sobriety; hence "unconvential".

Sing My Name, Sing My Name

Have you ever thought about songs that have your name in them, Blog? I haven't either. But thanks to the magic that is the internet, both you and the ability to look up songs with our names in them exist. Look at this gem I found just for you, Blog. You're welcome:

Today, a slight facebook tiff with my ex-boyfriend (one of the two I'm still friends with) lead me to look up Cole Porter's array of songs that he wrote for musicals, movies, and the general public's ear back in the first half of the 20th century. I won't get into semantics of exactly why I was looking up Cole Porter music*, but as I perused the long list of hits, a title stuck out to me: "I Love You Samantha".

Whaaa? I've never been aware of any songs that featured my name. When Mambo No. 5 came out during my freshman year of high school, I anxiously listened for my name so I would know the flavor of sexiness I was destined to represent. Unfortunately, the only person I knew who shared a name in the line up was my mom with "a little bit of Mary all night long". Great.

I've pretty much thrown out the novelty of having my name in a song ever since. The internet wasn't a thing I did back in high school and when it finally did come into my life, I had better things to look up.

But today, the simple and fun thought of looking up songs with my name as a defining detail was presented before my very eyes. I was pleased to find that Bing Crosby himself was the man who was in love with me. He's a one gal guy, in case you didn't know:

I also need to invest in a fabulous yellow robe.

Hearing my name sung by Bing's voice is so strange and fun! I was hooked. I did an official Google search for songs about Samantha and found this other one by Sir Elton John (one I probably should know about but don't because I'm terrible with pop culture):

I'm both amused and disappointed that I can identify more clearly with Lady Samantha, but what do you do. Having a slight case of the sads with you at all times can lend itself to creativity and the forlorn listening to a 1960s superstar's remorse for what he had said 'round the campfire. At least the truth came out in the end.


*A viewing of De-Lovely in late 2005 combined with my ex-boyfriend's loose wrists equalling an inside joke that includes the phrase "Cole Porter-Gay" might have something to do with it if you're really curious.

I Didn't Think I'd Be This Way

Blog, tonight I got a phone call from my friend Sam. She started out the conversation with a preface to some news she had to share.

"I wanted to tell you before you saw it on Facebook," she said.

"Ok," I replied tentatively. I was half nervous and half excited for what surely was some juicy gossip. She said she was going to text me, but thought that calling me would be a better way to tell me. For a second I thought someone might have died, but she was too upbeat for that sort of a tragedy. I was hopeful that it wasn't something that would ruin the pleasant Sunday evening I was spending with my new roommates. One thing I've learned in the last week is that coming home to people is an amazing thing. So far I love this living-with-people situation.

"Brian is engaged," she said. Or so I thought she said.

"Brian? Who's Brian?"

"Ryan," she tried again; emphasizing the "R" at the beginning of his name.

"Brian?" I could not wrap my mind around who she was talking about. Frankly, all I could think of was that guy I dated a year ago. I have my own reasons for going there... unfortunately.

"Ryan. Ryan is engaged."

"Ryan? Ryan. Ohhh! Ryan!"

Ryan, Blog. Ryan, my ex-boyfriend. Ryan, the one who I thought I was just going to end up with forever. Ryan, the one who would joke that he wanted to trade me in for a "younger model" and then really did. Ryan is engaged.

It only took a second for me to realize how he asked her. I knew even before Sam went into detail. It's the beginning of October in Minneapolis. That means the Twin Cities Marathon is on the tips of everyone's tongues. That means he ran it. And that means he proposed to her in a most public and flashy gesture right after he crossed the finish line.

Hit the nail on the head.

I anticipate a destination wedding to take place in Mexico in either the early spring or fall of next year. My best to the happy couple.

Sam was worried that I'd be hurt or upset or feel a sting of lost love. She even went out of her way to talk me up as a beautiful, one-of-a-kind girl who couldn't have a ring determined for her because of her terrific originality. It was sweet and I appreciated the sentiment (because it's totally accurate), but it was something I didn't need to hear. I already knew what she was telling me and frankly, I am so removed from the situation that I was a little sad I wasn't more jealous/upset/bitter that this has happened. However, I take great pride in this reaction since it was a mere two years ago I felt like my entire world was caving in around me because he decided that I wasn't the girl for him.

It's turned out to be the biggest favor anyone has ever paid me.

In those two years since he told me that he wanted someone who would do things like focus on their career and run marathons, I've experienced more than I could have ever imagined when I was wasting away in that suburban house.

If he knew what I was up to these days, he'd probably think that he's made it and I've taken a turn for the worst. I'm still single, just moved in with roommates and hate my job. But this change I've made has already started to make me happy. I'm interacting with people who inspire, support, and challenge me. I'm playing music on a regular basis which is incredibly satsifying and makes me happier than I have been in a long time. I'm realizing things about this world and this life that I was too scared to realize before. I'm taking risks and am going down the road less traveled. I'm incredibly single, incredibly unattached, incredibly determined to keep the things I've loved my entire life at the forefront of it. It's something I've never done before, and it certainly was something that wasn't on my mind when I was with Ryan.

So thank you, Ryan. Every time I learn something new about your life, I'm reminded that settling for you would have been the biggest mistake I could have ever made. Congratulations on the marathon and engagement. Two years ago I was the one at the finish line, screaming my support for you, but had you gotten down on one knee after you had crossed it, I know I wouldn't have said yes. I'm glad you just went to the water tent instead.

Trying...

Blog, I've been away and now I'm back. I had a most amazing trip to the middle of the ocean and to Boston. Naturally, you'd think I'd want to tell you all about it, but I'm not in the mood. I just wrote part one of a series I'm working on recapping my trip and I'm rather burnt out on putting my memories into words at the moment. More of that to come.

Instead I'll look inward, as I tend to do with you. I think this is because I've given up on making you a relevant blog for the masses and instead will accept you for what you really are: a means for me to sort out my thoughts with a small internet audience that comes and goes as it pleases. It keeps you quaint, doesn't it Blog?

Last night and today I realized I'm letting self pity and sadness take over my life. This is a result a constant and subconscious comparison I make between myself and everyone I know. At this point, everyone I know seems to be at a place in their lives where growth, excitement, and change are happening while I feel like I am in a rut with nowhere to go. This of course isn't true, and I keep trying to remind myself of this in an attempt to get myself out of it, but I haven't been doing a very good job.

Tonight I think I came up with one of the better ideas I've had in awhile and contacted my dear friend Will for some advice. Why him, Blog? Well, not only is he a special person to me, as I recently articulated to you, but he also has been pursuing a life in the theater since I met him nearly 10 years ago. And he's done really well for himself as far as that sort of a thing goes. He's not world famous or anything, but he knows the ropes and is really good at putting himself out there. He's had tons of experience and has been in all sorts of productions. I decided to hit him up on the Facebook chat this evening to pick his brain about getting back into theater myself. My depression has been getting to me, and I know a surefire way to bring me out of it is to find creativity in my life. I need to make something. I need to contribute. I need to take a look at myself within and bring whatever I find to a venue where it is shared and molded into something new and different and worthwhile.

What I'm trying to say is that I need to be in a play.

I chose to go to Will for help because he lives this every day. He also knows me better than most people. Most importantly, he believes in me and I don't doubt him on it for a second. One thing I realize is that I didn't set up a support system for myself when I first moved here in hopes of becoming part of the theater community. I've met tons of people and have worked on projects here and there, but I never had the support and closeness that surrounded me when I was in Bemidji. Will is left over from that and he is the perfect person to keep me accountable for pursuing this thing. He told me the exact things I needed to hear:
 

"I'm more than happy to help keep you motivated... because you are talented. It's a little absurd how often Andy and I have had the conversation about how talented we both think you are... and hoped that you would find your way back to acting again."

Sometimes an ego boost is just what you need to become motivated about the one thing you've always loved to do. An ego boost and a plan for accountability. This week my job is to seek out two monologues and begin working on them. He will be checking in next week on my progress. Not only is he supportive, he's holding me accountable. It is just what I'd hoped to get out of him.

Thank God for the internet Blog. Without it I wouldn't have you and I wouldn't have the ability to have a dude in Chicago holding me accountable for memorizing Shakespeare.