Foo me once!

Foo Fighters - Everlong

OK, I seem to have a slight obsession this week. I do tend to get a tad giddy when one of my favorite bands releases a new album. This album release coincided with a documentary and a live concert, which we watched earlier. I swear, this kind of stuff makes me feel like a teenager and I don't care. I love it. That feeling you get when you hear an album for the first time does not change, at least it doesn't for me.

I remember when The Color and The Shape came out. I was still married to Starter Husband. I ran out that day to buy the CD and played it immediately squealing with delight at every track. After a few minutes he just looked at me and said "What are you 12?" Sadly, it wasn't the only time he made that comment. He clearly didn't appreciate my taste in music or excitement over anything that didn't involve rating points (he worked in TV ad sales). It was another defeat in my quest for happiness and one of the (ten thousand) reasons I am not wearing a ring from him. Ironically we saw the Foo Fighters in concert for that tour. While he didn't care for listening to music "like a 12 year old" Starter Husband took every opportunity to make his clients happy and lucky for me one of those clients just happened to be a fan of the band.

I think of this often, especially when a new album comes out. D and I share a love for music and while we might not always agree there are a few bands that we absolutely adore. The Foos are one of them. This is a total change from what I had before. When I hear of a show coming up I rush to tell him about it instead of keeping my mouth shut in fear of humiliation. In fact, D might even be worse than me. We just saw a commercial for a few shows Prince was doing next week and he was immediately on a website securing tickets for us. In February we trekked out to Pomona to see Stone Temple Pilots for the tenth (OK fifth) time. Last month I mentioned that one of my new favorite bands had announced some tour dates and guess what, we're going.

I love going to shows with D, he doesn't chastise me for screaming, yelling, singing and dancing. He loves it. He calls me his Rockr Girl. A nickname that makes me supremely happy. It's been almost 14 years since Starter Husband uttered his comment. I still remember it like it was yesterday even though it feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

In a few weeks D and I will be bouncing to The Airborne Toxic Event and yelling like a couple of 12 year olds. I'd love to call Starter Husband from the show just to let him know that I am indeed still 12 but I don't want to wake him up. I'm sure the old man will have been fast asleep for hours by the time the show starts. Did I mention that I was older than him?

We are here for such a short time, why not enjoy it all? I just posted this on my wonderful friend N's blog:

Age is just a number other people need to justify their defeat. Enjoy it all and concentrate on the memories, not the numeral.

It totally makes sense here so I'm stealing it from myself.

Rock on people

\m/\m/