Barcelona Bound: Darlin, your head's not right

This past Sunday I bought a city guide which listed different movies, art exhibits and music events happening in Barcelona this week. One of the events was listed as a singer-songwriter jam session, so my housemates and I went to check it out on Monday night. It was at a little underground bar near the water, and about thirty or forty people had crowded in to listen to the songs of acoustic Spanish singer-songwriters. I signed up to play and was SUPER nervous, considering that I was having trouble just figuring out how I would introduce myself to a bar full of people in Spanish, but as soon as I got to the microphone and said 'Soy de Nebraska,' the rowdy Spaniards all started cheering good-naturedly.

I played two songs: one (Every Little Word) which I introduced as being about 'un chico muy guapo de Nebraska' and the other (Things I Said) I said probably should've been called 'cosas que dije cuando estaba emborachada.' They all clapped and laughed, and even though I was pretty sure they were making fun of me a little bit, it all seemed pretty relaxed so I just went with it. So I played the songs and everyone was really excited and friendly, asking me for my website and if I'd come back next week, and even a few who asked if they could kiss my cheeks (which is normal here.. I think). Anyway, it was a good experience and I was really glad to have my housemates with me, and we're all going to go back next week. Wahoo!

Let’s see, what else… I just finished reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower, a book which is aimed at an audience much younger than me, but was still really worthwhile to read. It basically tells the story of a year in the life of this freshmen in high school who quietly watches the people around him, having all these profound adolescent revelations. I feel a little weird about the fact that the protagonist in the story is a full five years younger than me, but it was also kind of nice to remember that everybody shares in teenagerdom.

I guess a part of growing up, or just making progress, is being able to look back every half year or so at the half year or so that preceded it and be slightly less mortified about the stupid things I did. I know that I am continually (though slowly) getting better at living, but there is still an adolescent girl who gets all riled up listening to bands like The Strokes and Outkast roaming around in this grown-ass woman’s body, and some of the situations the kid in this book ends up in really speak to her. The other big part of growing up for me, it seems, is learning that buying piles of clothes and jewelry and food and mind-altering substances won’t make me happy. I am still learning though.

Anyway, less emo, more Barcelona. Check, double-check. Next time.

T