no one ever gave Mick Jagger a cupcake

I need to brag. I'm not allowed to reveal the reason for my rights just yet, but I am so proud of my husband and the recognition he receives for being talented. He deserves it.

We've been through quite the journey together and will continue in that fashion as we make a mark on anniversary numero dos.
Although it's been part of my life for six years (and counting), it's hard to get used the lifestyle that comes with the musician who is your other half.

Some things have become familiar, but I will forever be baffled at some things fans say and do to gain attention from a band member-married or not.
Teenage hormones can rage. I know. Been there. When I was 16, all I wanted was to marry Rivers Cuomo and for our children to wear black horn-rimmed glasses. However, 16 was (get ready for a shocker) ten years ago. TEN-count that on both your hands.

Obviously the times, they are a'changing, and bands have become more accessible to fans. Through myspace, facebook, twitter, etc. etc. etc., internet stalking is at an all-time-high, and people are able to contact whomever, whenever.

I agree that musicians should be personable, but to what extent? What happened to the mystique of a band? What happened to lusting after Chris Carrabba* in your Spin magazine instead of trying to DM him your number on twitter? Muse never stands behind the merch table after a quick set at Wembley, and I'm positive no one has been able to get a batch of cookies past security at an Aerosmith concert.

It doesn't bother me when my husband takes the time to answer questions and take pictures. I think it's exceptional when fans are able to relate to music and the individuals who make/perform it. What bothers me are the few people who take advantage of this generosity and attend shows only to skank around. I only speak to a part and not the whole. There are a few bad apples who ruin it for everyone.

end scene.

*name used for the sole purpose of an example and was not actually ever an object of my affection.

you gotta get lost

I know you-yes, the one person who reads this-have been waiting with bated breath until my next update. Well, here it is.

It appears I confide in my blog upon the occurrence of a major event, and such is the case today. But I'm not feeling wordy tonight, so it goes like this:

Got a job in New Orleans, accepted it, wondered why I accepted it, cried, moved, cried, Chris left for tour, cried, started work, liked it (only two weeks in-give it time).

South Louisiana is culture shock. It's almost Yankee town down here. With the exception of my co-workers, it seems NOT ONE person in a customer service role is friendly. Food is expensive, so I don't eat. Wal-Marts aren't 24-hours. People can't drive-because I'm the only one in America that can drive properly (don't you feel that way sometimes)? And, my family isn't here.

Needless to say, I've had a case of the sads lately. The main cause of my melancholy could be the lack of my husband, but thank goodness for a wonderful mother-in-law who offered to stay an entire WEEK to keep me company and help set up our new digs. She is beyond amazing and forever grateful I will be for her and her other half.

My dear friend Rene has also helped me through and been kind enough to feed me dessert until my face is full. I certainly couldn't have made the adjustment without her assistance.

Being in a "funk" is so not my style, but I suppose it happens to us all. Right? I've never been so unsure about life in my, life. I don't know why I made the move, but I did. It's done, but it doesn't mean I can't go back home.

For now I'm here, and my only option is to make it an adventure, because "that's where you find yourself."