dianadragonfly: (Default)
I've been writing something since my Seattle visit. It's sort of everything I wanted to say to GT. It's based on my "plunge" essay but it links Ryche lyrics to certain times in my life. It's been really fun.

I had a BLAST is Seattle.
The second show was really like the first one I'd ever gone to (2 years ago today, vulturechick!!!!) It felt that good and that cathartic. It got it all OUT!! AND AND AND I got my Ryche flag done. And the band signed it. They all said "I saw it last night" And they filmed for the DVD the night I was there with the flag. The person in front of me was dressed like a nun. Dude, we are SO ON THE DVD!!!

I had fun, I really truly did.

I think I had more fun the last night because the fancy ass breakfast was over, my heart had already been broken, along with my wallet. There was no nervousness about getting to meet the band, about whether or not the meet and greet would suck. It was last that first show in Dallas, two years ago, where it didn't even cross my mind that I would ever have access to them. I mean, they're freaking rock stars. I'm me. And when I get access -- a quick hello in the hallway, a soundcheck, a meet n greet, a breakfast, I want to dump all my baggage at their feet, you know. 15 years of needing this band. As the Indigo Girls said "My whole life is on the tip of my tongue."

Anyway, the anticlimax was the breakfast. The second show was a chance to get that excitement back. It was fucking awesome. I stood on my chair and made some eye contact. I also was almost decapitated by the boom on the camera. No eye sex with Whip -- too far back this time. But still -- AWESOME!

I still jump and cringe when there's a gunshot in the act. (avoiding spoilers) It just gets worse. In fact, two of my friends told me to turn around on the first show. There was a gunshot that I hadn't seen before and they warned me, which was good.

I told Scott -- "You hit those drums so hard when Mary dies. Every time, I know what's coming, but I jump and cover my eyes." He laughed. My interactions with Scott have always been amazing. He's such a neat guy.

seattle good
life good

and I got to hang out with [livejournal.com profile] 9thmoon
what more could I want?


Jul. 5th, 2005 12:12 am
dianadragonfly: (Default)
Been neglecting this journal.
Been neglecting everything.
Preshow )
Meet and greet and swoon )
dianadragonfly: (Default)
I now know how to make posts private from this client, but as soon as I try to make something a private post, I start writing differently.


I need to imagine an audience to take good notes, even though I don't make much sense. Sorry.
It's why LiveJournal works for me in a way that a journal doesn't. Sorry guys. I promise to put notes behind a cut.

I'm at the John Wayne Airport. (hey, little lassy. Or as my great uncle says "JOhn Wayne could take your arm off and spank you with it!" This is my 85? year old great uncle with some severe articulation disorders and has metal disabilities. :))

I went through security.
I had a handcheck for my camera. It alerted for bomb making chemicals. Had a pat down. Girl came running. *sigh* I kinda liked it hehehehe

I'm such a wimp when it comes to issues of race. I realized this while watching the "random" screenings. I saw maybe a dozen people get searched. Me and two others were white (And I was searched for a reason.) I watched one very very well dressed black man get his bag opened by a white guy, who picked up his Bose radio system. "He says it's a music system" he hollers. "How much does it cost" he asked the owner. "About 500 dollars" the man said calmly and evenly.

I imagine, after the sixth or seventh or 500th hundredth time of being searched, I would lose it on someone. Then of course, people could talk about how violent people like me are.

The lady in front of me and I were sharing security stories. She told one that was a little racist ("It was the end of September, right after the bombing, and she said if she saw a single person that looked Mid Eastern, she wouldn't get on."). What do I do? Call her racism?

I tell my story about flying to New York, Thanksgiving 2001. How scared I was. Then I saw someone sitting beside me who looked Arabic and realized that he had to be more scared -- if he stood up to pee, he'd probably be tackled.

Yes, there was an Arabic man on my flight, but it didn't really happen like that. It's sort of my subtle way of saying "He was a human being too."

Last night, at a bar with Dale and Janice, the guy next to us (Paul, now Janice's American husband!) asked us why we were in CA. We told him about the conference and he started talking about whether or not there is a test for Angelman so the pregnancy could be terminated. That makes me cold -- I am all for the right to choose, but that's the worse sort of discrimination. No one says "yes, I think I'm up for this challenge." They have a child they love, then they find out about the disability. The other way around is too terrifying. Even me, with all my experience, would be terrified to find out that my future child, an abstraction, would be severely disabled. When it's a real child, it's the child first, then the disability.

Anyway, the night ended up with me showing him pictures of the angels and how cute they were.

I guess I can argue and try to change people's mind. But instead I just talk about how much better we all are for having angels in our world and leave it. Sometimes stories can do what arguments can't.

Sometimes I hate that I'm not more aggresive in calling out discrimination. But I hope that what I'm doing works eventually. This guy is a nurse, so the next time he sees an Angelman kiddo, he'll think of the conversation, I hope.


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