Born to die

So it's been OVER A WEEK since my last post which is UNHEARD OF but I can explain. See, even those as pensioneresque as myself can be employed by their mothers, or play in a band, or be preparing for uni, or be watching season four of the Brady Bunch and discovering that the same extras have been used twice for bit parts in different seasons then realising the extent to which life has now become kind of sad. 


1. Employed by their mothers. 
So my Ma has a florist and as you alert young readers should well be aware, Valentine's Day has just passed recently. I spent the days leading up to VDAY de-thorning red roses for other people's sweethearts and hand-feeding chocolate hedgehogs to my Mum as she drowned herself in foliage. 

2. Plays in a band.
So Volumetric played at a high school formal last night, which was good fun for good money - however we did spend a alarming/unhealthy amount of time playing Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden in the weeks preceding. Despite this whole formal thing not really being our scene, we had a fun time, and in the words of Greg Brady we 'really bent the gig outta shape'. We also learnt a lot about song choice sound mixing yadda yadda yadda. Perhaps the most important lesson we learnt on the night, however, was that Fight For Your Right by Beastie Boys should come branded with a health warning. Not only did I nearly fall off the amp I stupidly trusted to hold my weight and break my neck, but we played so vigorously that we had to bring forward Good Riddance by Green Day as the next song for physical and emotional recovery. After three and a half sets, an inhaled three courses and that annoying scarcity of water that always seems to happen at these function things I slammed the tambourine from hand to hand span around and around in circles, truly believing I was going to die and miss the Cutest Couple award. Rookie mistake.

omg best formal eva. photo courtesy of visual accents photography

3. Preparing for uni.  
When I say 'preparing for uni' I essentially mean walking up and down in my room shaking my hands around both marvelling at the notion of beginning my dream course and swallowing back vomit at the very same idea. I guess with any successful acquirement of any great desire comes the inherent belief that it was some kind of mistake. Or, that even if it wasn't a mistake I will react so strangely/badly to this new world that I will ultimately fail. Fail this course = fail life = work at chain supermarket forever = get married to some guy = take kids to school and swimming lessons and to get haircuts = get old = die. Rationality isn't one of my strong points I guess. It could happen! 


And like the fourth one you already are aware of how much I dig the Bradys so I'll leave it here bye bye