Maybe I should ditch this little white rental on the interstate

[Note: Started this like over a week ago. Oh Becca - can't even finish blog posts on time.]

Oh man. My life may have highs and lows in terms of interest/enjoyment level, but it's alllll maxed out for sheer content. Yikes. Daylight savings has begun - and as always, this is when the semester kicks it up a notch.

Not all in a bad way though. The trip to Chicago for Ben Folds with Nora and Nathan was pretty epic, and worth the effort that went into the planning. We made good travel partners - nice, easy dynamics, and the best parts of traveling with three people. Three's tough sometimes - we all know the adage - but I think that when the balance is even among the three people, without one dramatically stronger or weaker bond, it's pretty much the ideal group size, especially for small experience-based trips. Five's getting unwieldy, and you won't get to talk to everyone, and everyone ends up feeling like they missed something. Four inevitably becomes two groups of two. But we made a good trio.

There may have been a bit of confusion arriving in the city (Becca forgetting where the directions she printed actually took us, parking on the wrong 300 block of Ohio and consequently forfeiting $14 for parking). But there was tasty Indian food for dinner, and a great show. It's funny...seeing a Ben Folds show isn't quite like seeing other people I really like. It's in part because his body of work is so huge that you don't go in hoping for one particular favorite, since A) you likely have too many to pick and B) it's hopeless. Yet you can depend on hearing a good chunk of the classics - all of the big ones post-Suburbs, really, at this show. The nostalgia factor is really what makes the magic though. Like most people there, I've been listening to Ben Folds since before I could drive. And then once I could, it was Rocking the Suburbs in my jury-rigged stereo. I (or rather, the audience) am on the cover of his live album giving him the finger. Three of his songs have served as crutches during breakups over the years. And now he's partnered with my favorite author on the latest addition to the canon. He looms large for me. And though we've all got different Foldsian narratives, it's the same for everyone. Maybe you love his songs because you've been fired, had an abortion, been advised not to join the armed forces by a parent, had a friend take a shitton of acid and spontaneously convert to Baptism. Or maybe not. But we've all been in love, all been dumped, all found life incredibly nonsensical yet moving at some point or another, and at a good number of those points Ben Folds provided the soundtrack. So when you see him play...it's not so much about that specific show as it is with other bands.

Which meant I wasn't phased by some of the technical fuckups (nothing terrible, but limited how well his voice came through sometimes), or the fact that it's clearly unnatural and (at least now, at the tour's outset) somewhat tough for him to sing words someone else wrote. It was still awesome. And of course not everyone was quarter-lifers like the three of us. I saw some snowy peaks in there, and the guy behind us was practically a child. (His face when Ben played "Underground" in the encore was priceless...he was like, "what is this and why the hell is it being played where a major hit should go?") Not a huge crowd for the venue, which meant all was civil and we had a good view.  And I was reminded why I always make the New Year's resolution to see more concerts: it's because they're awesome.

Post-show we hit up the Violet Hour, a lounge/bar that in daily life would be far too swank for me but is perfect for occasional drop-ins and makes me feel cool, because apparently anyone who's got taste remotely like mine has been to and loved it. I'd been once before with Maeve and Co., right at the end of MA spring, and while I had a great time, the fact that I was coming off a major life change or two and miiiight have been dressed like an elementary school teacher kind of limited the magic.

We had to wait about half an hour to get in, which wasn't unexpected - but I'd forgotten the way lines like that, even ones consisting of groups, tend to wait in relative silence. I hate that - not that that'll be a surprise to anyone. It's boring, and in addition we were all in danger of sobering up and falling asleep, which would have been tragic. So we all rose to the occasion and played 20-odd minutes of "Kill, Marry, Fuck" at a quiet but not inaudible volume while waiting for admission into a major Chicago hot spot. (The looks we got from both the couple behind us and the host when we turned to theorist groupings were truly priceless.) Once inside, we settled into a lively conversation that covered everything from Marxist theory (naturally, with Nora there) to 9/11 to college hijinx. We also consumed some of the best cocktails it's ever been my privilege to drink. And I might have made us do whiskey shots. We ended up more or less closing the place out, then catching a cab (such luxury! I'm going to be living on Ramen for the rest of the month) (not like I wouldn't have been anyhow) back to the hotel and crashing immediately despite Nathan and I's intentions to catch Nora up on some major YouTube classics.

Woke up a bit worse for wear, Nathan drove us home, he and I are obsessed with the a cappella version of "Effington," we stopped at a creepily middle-America Dairy Queen in Janesville, all crashed when we got back to our homes. Great weekend. It reminded me that adventures can actually be better now that I'm old.

And then of course despite being certain I'd be too busy and tired to go out Sat night, I ended up at the Mason with the larger gang until 2:30. And regretted it not at all. I'm a lucky girl in my friends.

I did manage, through what feels like Herculean effort on my part but was probably just reasonably Fear-motivated catch-up, to finish my entire academic to-do list for the weekend. Of course, I wrote it with an eye to making it modest and actually doable given my plans, but still. Small victories and all. It's going to be a rough week until Wed is over, then will just be the usual "OMG it's mid-November fuck"-style week. Things are both helped and hindered by the fact that I'm incredibly excited about my VisRhet final paper - I just want to work on it. But of course I have no time to do so - or rather, what time I might be able to scrape up is needed for the 25-source annotated bibliography detailing not my research for the paper but "the conversation" I'm entering. Yes this is good for me blah blah, but it can't help but feel chafing when all I want to do is run with my topic.
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