Feeling: Mondayish
Listening to: Saves the Day - At Your Funeral
Reading/Watching: homework

People have been asking about the concert, so naturally I have to say something, since the others got full reviews.

Drove up to *Sistertown with Drew, and again had slight problems with me not having much to say to him, so we wound up talking about banal things like homework, etc. This silence... it's not even a conscious choice on my part, I just somehow try to open my mouth and there are no words coming out.

We got into the city, drove to Claire's apartment, and set out for a Thai place near the concert stadium. Good food, happiness ensued. I was worried that somehow either Drew and Claire wouldn't quite click, and I'd wind up keeping the conversation going, or else they'd completely bond and I'd be sitting on the sidelines watching. It was a comfortable average between the two, just because my sister is so awesome and friendly and she and I have similar senses of humor, so it was like Drew was there with two Katies, except one was older and wiser with straight hair and a dog named Buster.

I feel sorry for anyone who had to drive around that campus the night of the concert. It was like martial law out there- people just trooped across four-lane streets with no regard for the hapless motorists who watched in their stopped cars and probably wound up late for something.

Mose Isley opened, and they were nice and Canadian, pleasant but without anything that really grabbed me. It's possible this was the fault of the over-amped string bass which drowned out the vocalist. It just all seemed muddy and indistinct.

Then Coldplay. Blinding lights. During Politik (the opener), I'm surprised no one broke out into seizures. And God Put a Smile on Your Face, Spies, Daylight, Clocks, Don't Panic, Yellow (of course), In My Place, One I Love, Warning Sign (Claire's favorite), Trouble (my favorite), Everything's Not Lost (wherein we sang along at the end), etc. It was fabulous, except for when all three of us would shield our faces at the exact same time from the swirling colors beaming directly into our eyes. But even this is forgiveable, when you get to be in the third row.

I am newly re-enamored of British accents. I want to marry one. Not the whole man, just the accent. If I can even find a guy who fakes a good one, I'll handcuff him to my bed and make him sing me to sleep. The lead singer (I forget his name) kept talking to the audience, all snippy and egotistical and so British and the rule still holds true: a man on an album cover may be so-so, but if he is holding a microphone anywhere within my earshot, I am ready to unbutton his shirt with my teeth. (Particularly if he can also play guitar and piano and get so enthralled in the music that he thrashes like Stevie Wonder on acid. It's a weakness I should probably see a therapist about, but until I get good and heart-burned by some careless rock singer, it can't be too bad.)

I kept giggling about how my sister and I would bop our heads to the music in the exact same way like a couple of drones. Growing up, we were very opposite, but now that we've lived in different houses for about four years, we've somehow mellowed into the same inflection and mannerisms. It's very eerie.

Coldplay only played for about an hour, and then we screamed and stamped our feet until we were rewarded with three encores: The Scientist, the hidden track at the end of Parachutes, and a new song "about girls... well, about a girl." (Claire says he's dating Gwyneth Paltrow. How cute.)

Drove back to the apartment, we played with my sister's spastic little Boston terrier and chatted with her not-quite-ex-boyfriend-fianc� (what am I supposed to call him now?), and around 11:30 Drew and I headed back to our dorms.

On the drive back, it was sleepy and quiet, and somehow he got me talking. I'm sure he was just bored, and wanted me to babble and keep him awake, but somehow I wound up pouring out my heart (even though I semi-swore I'd never do that to him again because it never leads to anything good and he doesn't handle it well when I'm falling apart) about Quincy, and I realized a few things myself, as I was talking.

Drew sort of got more than he was looking for, opening up that can of worms. (What I hate most is how much everyone was rooting for us, including me, trying so hard to make it fit. Which makes my inability to... to something, even more of a disappointment.)

And more people at school are finding out about this journal. Which is perfectly fine (I don't do much people-bashing here), but if you happen to find something that bothers you, remember this is my diary, and my opinions on the subject may have changed since I wrote this or that rant. Also, if you are somehow disappointed that I don't talk about you in here (I believe Dom asked why he wasn't mentioned more? ::coughEGOcough::), it means virtually nothing. It might simply be that nothing that's happened with you has been out of the ordinary.

Meh. This entry is far too long. I need to get back to updating daily so I can have brief, on-topic rambles instead of this kind of train wreck of thoughts.

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