They look so...human

I had a thought tonight that deeply overwhelmed me, so I'm putting it on here before the mess of words astound themselves right out of my head:

I came to the conclusion tonight that the musicians I look up to are giants.

I've met my fair share of "rockstars" (though some neither rock, nor are typical stars), and I've never once squealed or muttered incoherent phrases like, "I effing luv you guys! U r SO hawt!!" Not even once. Some of these stars I've even been lucky enough to say, "yeah, I know them, they're on speed-dial." And I'm blissfully greatful for being able to say that. But, for awhile, I was beginning to think that I'd lost out on something big in my life. While others around me were ecstatic to have a chicken-scrath signature on their white Vans of a band they barely knew, I was sitting by,jaded, holding my personalized art that the band had written "thanks for paying for dinner!" on. I wasn't freaking out, I wasn't crying, I wasn't even wide awake. Meeting these bands, to me, was like meeting a teacher: I knew they'd be around, so why get so wigged out?

That was until something occured at Warped Tour this year (I know it's not very substantial, having a "Warped Tour Changed My Life" story, but oh well). I was standing in line for a very routine signing, I had made something for the band to sign, I was melting in the Phoenix sun, and I was...well, giddy? (So childish a word with so pointed and vivid a meaning) I was, for the first time, going to see one of my very favorite bands up close, The Matches. But, I was starting to grow impatient. It was 106 degrees that day and I wanted some water, sue me. But finally I heard the seven trumpets of a well vocalized little girl in the front of the line, thus signaling the approach of the band.

And that was when I had the moment that I had feared would never happen:
I stood among giants.

Seeing this band that inspired my artwork and influenced my frame of mind on more than one occasion, standing (clad in bodygaurds) a few mere feet away from me was astounding. They weren't REALLY giants (I'm 5"8/ tall for a girl), but the way I always invisioned them and looked into them made me feel like nothing. They were giants and I was but a mere human standing in their shadow. Other bands were just normal people because I looked to them as such; I sang along to their music, related to their cries, and went on with my life. Meeting those people was easy. This was shockingly hard.

My place in line scooted closer and closer to the table, and I was gripping the bandanna that I had hand painted so hard that I could feel my nails pushing at the fabric and digging crescent moons into my palms. The people around me were oblivious to the occasion, and I heard a disturbing amount of girls saying, "I just saw them today, they're so gorgeous" and I think I understood. I knew how other people felt when I went up to band members and hugged them so ho-hummedly, bands that they themselves worshiped and idolized. Bands whose guitarists I called wen I broke up with my boyfriend or got the lead in a play. Bands who I saw as friends, confidants, family. In that split second, when I realized all this, inching closer, it happened...

I squealed.

In a fraction of time it was over. I had passed my item down the line, smiled for a picture, conversed briefly and unsteadily about how goddamn HOT it was, and was shooed away from my giants. I just stood there grinning. Not because I was going to go masturbate to the idea that I was so close to them. Not because I could shove my experience into peoples faces....

But because I had met giants.

-D