Lessons from Moving Day

I'm thrilled to be out of the glorified dorm they call Park Terrace and into my beautiful new condo. I've spent countless hours and lots of money trying to sleep soundly in the apartment I shared with my man and turns out, while the most expensive thing I've tried, all I needed was home-ownership. I haven't slept more soundly in over a year.

I expected Olive and I to sense emptiness. After all, we're back to living alone. Instead, it is the most calm and happy we've felt in a long time. The anxiety of our former roommate's unpredictable treatment is gone along with night after night of tears and yelling. There is absolutely nothing empty about quiet rain coming down while I unpack, rinsing away the hurt of the past year. I may never tire of it.

Living with a lover is trying. I don't think anyone can challenge that statement. People argue and lose patience, say things they don't mean and things they do. Love is made and love is challenged. Lessons are learned too, good and bad, proud and shameful. I've learned something each time I've done it and am better for it. I look forward to doing it again even, more cautiously of course.

This time around I learned about commitment. I committed to one year and in that time my will and tolerance were tested to their limits. But, I didn't give up until the very last hour, just before I had to turn my old keys over. And at that moment I realized that my commitment was meaningless. I learned that commitment doesn't get you all that far every time. In fact, sometimes it gets you nowhere. It isn't always the good thing it is made out to be. I will take that lesson to my next relationship...commit if committed to. Share if shared with. Understand if understood. Love if loved. And if not, walk the other way.

I heard a repetitive shout again and again this year that has now became a mantra: Move on. My commitment didn't let me do that very comfortably before now. Luckily, I'm a fast learner.

Girl, I didn't know you could get down like that

I bought my first home. Major decisions and change make me very insecure and emotional and this was no different. I didn't much feel like celebrating even though I should have. It is a major accomplishment, after all. I wanted to feel a level of glee in line with the price tag (like shopping at expensive boutiques in NYC) but mostly it just felt lonely; lonely because gaining a condo meant losing a roommate.

I had hoped my first place would be an adventure I would share with someone else. It didn't work out like I expected, like so many things in life. Going it alone feels amazingly satisfying but a bit terrifying as well. My plans to create a loving space for two people was whittled down to the usual me, myself, and Olive. Everyone keeps reminding me that this is great, one of the best things a person can do for themselves. But, let's be honest, cohabitation failed me and that sucks.

Two steps forward and one step back is still forward movement though. My new place is beautiful and right next door to Barton Springs, a string of awesome restaurants, and one of the best outdoor music festivals in the country. I can see the Austin skyline. The previous owners shared with me that they had zillions of awesome memories and that the place had made them very happy. Hopefully some of that will rub off on me. My living situation the past year has been traumatic and tearful. It will be nice to be in a peaceful, happy place again, even if that means braving Austin alone again at first.

Seth Godin, the guru of online usability and general master of being useful, had a quote the other day that hit me like a Texas driver*:

"Everything will be alright" is not the same as "everything will stay the same."

I have clung to this statement, barnacle like, for the last few weeks. Everything will be alright, just like always. People adapt, get over it, move on, and move forward. And everything is better for it every single time. Remember that, Rach, you silly girl.

Luckily, two steps forward and one step back is also how you two-step which is not a bad way at all of getting from A to B in life. Wish me luck!

*No one in Texas was taught to drive. No one. The basic principals of staying in the lines, using signals, and generally paying attention are not used in the Lonestar State. Learning to operate a vehicle is clearly not as important as learning to shoot guns and say "yes, ma'am", which most Texans do quite well. This does not put my mind at ease.

Hang On Little Tomato by Pink Martini

At cool shit doing cool shit

Another SXSW under my belt with no visible damage to report. The only casualty was my poor phone which got the newest release of the cracked screen app. Amazing music and even more amazing company made this week the best music festival yet! Some of the artists need a lesson in etiquette but overall it was fabulous. Noteworthy moments in no order of priority:

Watch Andrew and I at Kimbra...we were in the front row for this truly amazing acoustic set. I'm in a white dress and AK in shades just to the side of the green Spotify wooden sign. She did the whole thing with just her voice, a recorder, and an iPad. She was so scared, her fingers were trembling.

We had the misfortune of choosing to see fun. at 1100 Warehouse where technical difficulties held them up for ages and finally required them to "make it work" with no sound. However, the last song, especially the tiny bit at the end where their sound finally goes out completely, was a remarkable comeback and ended up being one of the most fun and memorable shows of the week. I can't wait to see them with speakers.

When AK and JDLV led me through a broken down tool shed wedged between two buildings not even close to making it out of a code violation , I was skeptical. But, on the other side of the wooden plank door was a crazed DJ laser show that nearly put Skrillex to shame. When we realized the door we had just come through had gone missing, we knew this was a moment not of this Earth that could only happen at SXSW.

Here's the lineup:

March 10 Sat
DJ Throwdown at Mohawk
The Tontons at Stubb's
UME at Stubb's
Respect the DJ party at Empire Automotive (Best Trip to Narnia)

March 12 Mon
Lithium Party (Best Photos with Friends and Monsters)

March 13 Tues
Nneka at Clive (Best Concert Poster)
Some crap show at Belmont
Tango Alpha Tango at Whiskey Ink
Electric Touch at Buffalo Billiards
The Soldier Thread at Buffalo Billiards

March 14 Wed
Alice Smith at Fader Fort (Most anticipated, Least rewarded)
Gary Clark Jr. at Fader Fort
Tribes at 1100 Warehouse
fun. at 1100 Warehouse (Best Rebound)
Twin Atlantic at 1100 Warehouse
Neon Trees at 1100 Warehouse
Danny Brown at some tiny bar near De La Vina's place

March 15 Thurs
Kimbra (acoustic) at Spotify House (Most Creative Acoustic)
The Shins at Auditorium Shores
Drop the Lime at Lustre Pearl
Yaught at Lustre Pearl (Runner Up - Best Performer)
Miike Snow at Lustre Pearl (Worst Show Overall)

March 16 Friday
Grimes at Google Play party
Kids These Days at South by San Jose
Alabama Shakes at South by San Jose (Best Music)
Hollywood Holt at 1100 Warehouse
The Cool Kids at 1100 Warehouse
EL-P at 1100 Warehouse
Das Racist at 1100 Warehouse
Spank Rock at 1100 Warehouse (Best Lyric Used as Mantra for the Rest of SXSW)
Skrillex at 1100 Warehouse

March 17 Sat
Mr. MFN Exquire at Fader Fort
Dive at Fader Fort
Kindness at Fader Fort
Darkside at Fader Fort
Rittz at Fader Fort (Most Unexpectedly Awesome - http://www.thefader.com/2011/03/09/rittz-white-jesus-mixtape-mp3/)
Sleigh Bells at ACL Live Moody Theater (Best Performer)
Nas at ACL Live Moody Theater (Best Stage)

March 18 Sun
98 Episodes of Friday Night Lights, Maudies take out, and 5 gallons of water at home

Warren Buffet can thank me later

I checked my Mint.com account recently and was playing around with their comparison budget tools. Pretty nifty until I got to the part where it compared 2010's spending habits to 2011's. The differences are striking, especially in the music category.

Pre-Austin, it appears I spent around $100 annually on concert tickets (a few shows at best). In 2011, that number increased 10 fold without even factoring in all the tickets bought for me by others which were substantial. Add in all the money spent on booze and the occasional t-shirt and you're looking at a degenerate music junkie who would sell plasma to see shows should I ever loose my job. If it weren't so much fun, I'd be alarmed.

I don't think of this as money wasted or even spent, however. I consider it an investment. According to Wikipedia, an investment is putting money into something with the expectation of gain, even the security of a return. This precisely defines what I do when I buy concert tickets. Music is an investment in life, happiness, relationships, musical prowess, boredom alleviation, intellectual complexity, and so many more things.

Sure, sometimes you invest and you don't see a return (such as the Modest Mouse show at Stubbs). But, sometimes your ROI is stupendous. The net gain from shows like Edward Sharpe, Grace Potter, Awolnation, Bright Light Social Hour, Friendly Fires, Gaygns, Young the Giant, or Muse far surpasses the initial investment. I wouldn't take that money back for anything.

It isn't just what music is worth in comparison to other investments we make. It is the whole host of intangibles you get for investing in that way. It has never let me down unlike most of my other monetary investments. I have no intention to decrease the amount put towards these most valuable expenditures.

Wikipedia also says that putting money towards something without the the security of return is considered gambling, an activity I do not care for generally. That being said, I have tickets to every major concert happening in Austin from now until late May and many of these bands are not my favorites. I'll label those for now as speculation though. I've found that with music you have to spend to "make."

Douchy bars are a dime a dozen in most larger cities. This is strategic I assume. Like likes like, after all. You simply cannot mix all types happily. People are not like Midwestern casseroles. As a seasoned bar goer and lifetime alcohol enthusiast, I've found myself in my fair share of drinkeries in need of a lower pH. Austin, naturally, has healthy options when it comes to douche dens and I'd like to point out a few should you be in need or adamant about avoiding.

Kingdom, a daycare that plays loud music

Hoards of strangely dressed children flock to this douche gem. Those with fake ids you'll stand next to at the bar. The others hang out in the dingy alley outside the club. The music is indistinguishable and the decor forgettable. But, if you're looking for a full-body version of the Hitachi Magic Wand, by all means, get thee in front of the wall of bass speakers. It is fabulous, until you realize the only other people in the room are Texas versions of Snooky and the Situation. Another thing of Vagisillian beauty is the glowing silhouette wall where you can find Austin's finest greasy meatheads and scantily clad bimbos posing for Facebook photos. It is a thing of wonder.

Qua, a conservationist nightmare

This place is true royalty when it comes to the the lavish fakeness and severe misguidedness of douch bags. They actually have a shark tank in the floor. Now, I know my politics lean left and I've been accused of being a naive bleeding heart, but sharks underfoot as decor is simply going too far. I wish I had anything good to say about Qua but the only thing I can come up with is I hope they soon sell the excellently located property to another, more tasteful douche proprietor.


Rebels, charming country with a hint of vinegar

Rebels is an urban honky tonk. I consider this a bit of an oxymoron but I love me some Dwight Yoakam and I can't be bothered to go all the way to Gruene so they get a pass. Just like the movie, this place is filled with urban folks with no business in hats and boots. Pearl snaps, fancy country swing, and an over-sized buckle does not a cowboy make. Luckily, they distract you with the most voluptuous bartenders in town dressed in outfits that would make your mama go straight to the Old Testament for advice. Ride the mechanical bull before you get too drunk lest you too become a master in the art of douchebaggery. Leave before the hip hop line dancers set in. Of all the douche joints in town though, this is my favorite for its charm, personality, and heavy pours.

Grief is a strange thing. It goes without saying that everyone does it differently. It brings some people closer and pulls others apart. It allows some people to soften and others it makes hard. It is private and public and everything in between. It cannot be practiced. It is always unfair.

My young soul doesn't allow me to mediate complex feelings very easily which creates quite a conundrum in situations of grief. I avoid. Vehemently. I don't attend funerals if possible and never know what to say to someone in tears. Sentimentality makes me very uncomfortable. I once peed my pants in an old folks home when I was in 5th grade because I was so anxious amongst the dying and the sad. I'm better at logistics...cook, clean, plan, anything behind the scenes, make sure the world keeps turning.

Do I do these things well? No, of course not. Grief isn't something you do well.

And then there is other people... Some folks are professionals at the overwhelming task of making others feel better. I am not one of these people. I'm not overly perceptive or gentle. I don't know the right words and have bad timing. Verbalizing my own feelings is nearly impossible which makes helping someone else with theirs painfully futile. I want to, but when I can't, there is a slippery weight added to my shoulders and an insecurity that tortures me constantly.

Now try them both at once... Working through a combination of the grief of others along with my own has proven too much for me on several occasions lately. Attack and flee has been my very unsavory reaction at times. I guess it is better than peeing my pants but still...I wish I could do better. Resisting the expectations others have for me while simultaneously hoping someone will have compassion for my own is not wise or possible, I realize. I wish there was a way to take expectations away entirely. Who is good at this? Tell me.

The weight of one thing added to another and another. Then add worry and fear and misunderstanding and someone else's thing and then another thing. It all starts to feel the same...very much like dragging a horse around. I'm not a weak person but I sure do feel like it lately. Horses are really heavy.

Perfect timing on this song. I hope she knows what she's talking about. It certainly is dark around here so hopefully that means dawn is coming.

Shake it Out by Florence + The Machine

The rainbow after the tears are gone

It is not easy to win the affection of a boyfriend's friends. The approval rating usually ends up somewhere between tolerance and murderous spite. But, nothing is more valuable to a girl trying to land a man than a "gold star" from his best friend. That is why this week is so hard. I didn't just get a thumbs up from Travis Sampley. He was my biggest fan and the feeling was mutual.

Travis, AK, and I spent the last year on a whirlwind of rowdy adventures all over Texas. We were the 3 musketeers. We did everything together it seemed. All of my most fun and memorable moments since moving to Austin included him. We traveled in a pack, literally, walking home together (he lived just a few blocks away). Inseparable barely covers it.

He was my most enthusiastic kitchen guinea pig, gobbling down even the most inedibly tough steak and over-salted fish like he was eating first class at III Forks. He rarely even asked what I was making before agreeing to come over and he always brought my favorite Zinfandel.

My constant heckling for his taste in slow, emotive music didn't

Outside Sidebar hitting on chicks

deter him at all from turning off my tunes immediately upon arrival to plug in his iPhone. Every ride in my car started with, "Have you heard the new [insert band I've never heard of here]?" and a reach for the aux cord. He invited me to the most obscure concerts and taught me why vinyl sounds best. He introduced me to music far beyond my comfort zone and I ended up eating my words every time.

Most importantly, he liked me. Not just because he was obligated to. And, I liked him. Not just because I was obligated to. I looked forward to him like he was my own pack member and eventually that's what he became.

His sudden death makes me feel strange. I'm overwhelmed with sadness with spurts of disbelief. Sharing this grief with so many people is simultaneously comforting but also selfishly difficult. I'm watching my man's heart break and it is unimaginably painful. I don't think I'm alone in wishing that there could be just one more moment to say goodbye. In situations like this, I suppose it is natural. But, what would I say if I had that chance?

After Travis' birthday party at G&S

How do you put into words the solidarity of a friendship that strong? How would you let them know how much you appreciate the joy they bring to your life? Could you really express how much you'll miss them and how much you don't want them to go? I doubt it. Sometimes there are just no words. That is the blessing of death I guess. You can't and so you don't. You just feel it and know it and that has to be enough.

His absence will also be distinctly felt and known...at every party, at every bar, at every concert. His absence will just be distinct. Because someone like Travis doesn't go unnoticed.

I'm sending love and healing to his family and friends. We might have lost a rare one, but there isn't enough gratitude in the universe to match the thanks I have to have known him.

That's How Strong My Love Is by Ryan Bingham