fob @ verizon wireless amphitheatre | 9/28/13

i want so badly to write down everything i remember, but at the same time i want to hold it tight to my chest and never let it go. last night was joy. pure, unadulterated, incandescent joy. i could keep putting corny adjectives before the already somewhat corny word "joy," but i'll hold myself back. the point is, i thought that last night was going to be emotional and that i would probably cry and that it would be a cathartic experience due to the fact that lot of those songs got me through some of the more difficult parts of my life. but instead of reflecting those harder times, the concert reflected the fact that i had gotten through, and that i had made it to the other side. at the risk of sounding even cornier, the whole damn thing was a celebration of growing up and triumph and being different and not caring what other people think and loving yourself and loving everything. it was joyous and beautiful and just so, so much fun.

believers never die. thank you, thank you, thank you.

i couldn't stop smiling all night.

come together, come apart

change is coming. it feels like summer just started and suddenly, we're in september, and the months have become weeks have become days. my life is always a countdown to something and the next one's already started. i always get emotional in the face of change; a mixture of sadness at leaving and anticipation of something new. but the best thing about change is that there's always something to look forward to, even if they getting there is rough. we only have a few weeks left and we're stuffing that time full of everything it can handle. every day i wake up to sun, every day the clouds roll in. sometimes the gray lingers and sometimes the skies open up and the rain dumps down on us. sometimes the lightning cracks so loud it makes us jump. i'm always on a precipice, you see; i'm always looking for that edge, 'cause life is boring when you've got flat empty space for miles. i always need to feel something, whether it's that knife in the chest or that rollercoaster stomach-jump. i'm reaching out my hands to the future and grabbing hold of whatever i can pull toward me. here we go again. bring it.