I am liking the little writing missions I am giving to myself so I am going to continue for a bit longer – here is a little one about music.
I looked at the boy in the band – stood on stage with his guitar in his hand, bouncing about to his songs, moving in time with the rhythm and looking out at the crowds.
I looked at his face. I thought he looked at mine. My heart skipped a beat.
I looked back. He was still looking! Or was he? Could he even see me? What if he just had the light in his eyes….maybe it was the girl next to me, or behind? I quickly turned around and looked. It was possible. I looked back at the stage and convinced myself he was looking at me. I felt my stomach flip. He lent forward with his guitar, peering into the crowd, his eyes definitely rested on my face, and he smiled. I tried to smile back but my face felt frozen into some gormless stare. Not my finest moment – of all the times I naturally pouted now would’ve been a good time but no I end up looking like some dumb goldfish flopping about aimlessly out of the water, out of their comfort zone.
I always think the other girl will get the guy. If the guy seems to like me I will think it’s because he’s not really looked at me properly yet or that he remembered me different to how I really am and if we get past those two hurdles – which isn’t often these days – well then I’d just panic that they would hate who I was. So I always think the other girl will get the guy – can never accept it might actually be me. And here I was – way on my way into being deep rooted in adult hood having my stomach flip about whether the guy in the band looked at me. Lame. Lame. Lame!
But I couldn’t help it – he was looking again – I gave a side long sneaky glance around me – everyone else was looking at the singer. I smiled, in spite of myself and I swear he smiled back. I felt myself flash back to a goofy, skinny thirteen year old, teeth in braces and chest only just beginning to bud. I felt the flush of those teenage years and kicked myself. First I impersonate a fish, now a goofy teenager, there really was no hope for me – my Mother had been right all along.
I flicked my hair back and straightened my top, I had second thoughts and pulled it down a little. I closed my eyes and counted to 3, I opened them and gave my best smile.
He had his back turned.
‘Rarrrrr’ I accidentally let out loud, much to the surprise of the girl stood next to me, I giggled nervously and tried to think of something to say but was saved by the next song kicking in.
The boy looked at me and this time I held his gaze. He was staring but what he was seeing I really was not sure. I pouted, I smiled, was I trying too hard? My face fell and my eyes searched his. Was he just in a world of his own or could he really see me? I looked around me once more and saw that no one was really paying attention. This was stupid, I was here to listen to the band and get that live experience of the bass thumping through my very core, get my ears ringing from the drum beat and feel all the bodies surging about in time to the music – making you wonder if you will stay on your feet or get swept along with the melody.
The crowd roared as the song finished, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. This is why I’d never felt jealous of the girlfriends of the band before – I never wanted to watch the band from the side of stage, taken out of all the crush and the rush and the real true emotion of a live show. Yes sometimes it got a bit rough but I was big enough to take care of myself.
I loved it down here, not when the boys got stupid and started pushing each other around but I loved to feel the music course through me – going through my veins – giving me an electrical charge – it made me feel like I was being hotwired – that I was being recharged and reenergised. I didn’t just enjoy this – I needed this. I need this like an addict craved their needle, it sounds strong but it’s true – I get tetchy when I haven’t been to a gig for a while – I have to have music on all the time – to see it, to feel it to be part of it. My life blood. The thing that keeps me sane. When I can’t find the words to explain something you can bet I will find you the right song or the right piece of music to express what I am feeling. Music takes me back to memories I had long forgotten. Without music I think I would be dead!!
I look again at the guitarist on stage, he looks so happy, he looks so lost in his music that I am no longer sure if he really was looking at me or not. I stare at him for a bit longer, he looks so at home on stage, he looks alive. He looks over and I smile. Really smile at him this time and he definitely smiles back.
We’ve been together for 6 months now and I still can’t get used to the whole rock star vibe but I still insist on never watching the band from the side of the stage, I always want to be down at the front – watching my man doing his thing.
The chord strikes out for the last note of the night – as it slowly fades away I make my way backstage.