I screwed up when I was a teenager.
That was the one thing I could always count on. If I got lucky enough to have a relationship of any kind, it wouldn’t be too long before I pulled a Lorelai Gilmore and called it off for any reason I could think of. I wasn’t ready for a commitment. We wanted different things. He was too interested in a sexual relationship and for reasons that are frighteningly unclear to me to this day, I had all manner of severe anxiety when it came to all things physical. I really mean, even a makeout session would send me spiraling into physical illness to the point where I called it off just so I could stop throwing up all the time.
Finally, after mussing around with different boys (never sex, foreplay, but not sex) and my self-appreciation finally completely hit the bricks, I called off boys altogether. This was not too long after the incident with my step-father. My life had started to improve somewhat and I wanted to spend some time healing before hurting myself all over again. I was overweight, not doing well in school, working full time, recovering from depression I didn’t really realize I had. I wanted to find myself, I wanted to know without a doubt that I deserved happiness. That I deserved love. If I can’t love myself, how can I expect anyone else to love me? I was 18 years old and that moment changed my life forever.
I’d been a blogger for a few years at this point. If you can call livejournal a blog. At the time it seemed more like a haven for scene kids and loners. But regardless, I belonged. Through livejournal I was able to discover bands I wouldn’t normally have any exposure to in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. The internet made it so much easier to expand my world. On the internet, even though I was somewhat of a faceless nobody, I was still me. I made friends, friends I still have to this day. In the midst of my musical explorations, I was turned onto a band called Brand New. I fell in love. Hard. Very hard. Obsessed, even. If I was having a bad day, I would lock myself in my room, turn on their album Deja Entendu (this is 2003) and crawl under the blankets and listen for sounds I hadn’t noticed before. It was about this time my unrequited love for a boy reached it’s tipping point. I slid back into a state of depression for a little while. Immersed myself in music. After a little while, I was over the whole thing. I was bored one day and I started looking up bands that Brand New had either toured with or mentioned on their website. That’s how i found Eisley.
I hated it. I deleted the song just as quickly as my kazaa lite had found it for me.
Months went by and I started looking for new bands again. I don’t know what made me do it, but I looked into Eisley one more time. I was hooked! At the time, the band was so small their website consisted of a message board and an aol chat room. (hello, 2004!) I joined and lurked for a little while until I got familiar with the dynamic of the place. Everyone was very friendly. It made it a lot easier on me. Among all the other screen names in bright colors on the aol chat, was rizob2. Man, did that guy crack me up! I became friends with rizob2 and many others over the coming months. In August of 2004, Eisley announced they were opening for Snow Patrol (which was a big deal even at the time) and there was going to be a show in Toronto! Exciting! A friend of mine and I decided we were going to fly to Toronto to see Eisley with Snow Patrol and it would be awesome. A few members of the forum decided to tag along even though they were from Denton (Steve) and Dallas, Tx (Chad), and one of them was from Rochester, NY (Sarah). None of these people were rizob2.
The weekend (September 2004) we all spent together in Toronto was amazingly fun. We all got along so well, Cathleen (my friend) and I decided we would visit Chad in Dallas the following February. In the time between September 04 and January 05, my friendship with rizob2 started to straddle the “are they? aren’t they?” line. I was in severe denial. I mean, how freaking stupid would I be if I fell for a guy 8 years older than me that lives 2000 miles away? yeah right. I’m SOOOO not going there!!
Stay tuned for part two!
Tags: My story