Smoothies galore!

Though I don't have Internet access at the moment, I've decided to start writing my newest blog entry via iPad, seeing as I have about two hours until my tour of McGill and nothing to do until then.  Speaking of McGill, here I am!   I am currently sitting near the campus entrance, just off of rue McGill College.  It's muddy and gray, but that hasn't impeded me from sitting on this bench and soaking my butt. (Also because I want to go to The Second Cup down the street, but I didn't know it was there and got a smoothie from Starbucks, which was packed, so now I have to wait until I finish my smoothie.)

I haven't taken many pictures yet. I haven't wanted to appear too touristy, even though I am, so I've just been enjoying everything wide-eyed and taking it all in.  My friend François said everything (like the métro stations) seem so much bigger to him when he's with me because he's noticing everything along with me, stuff he never really payed attention to before. I thought that was pretty neat.

So. Yesterday. I won't go into any sort of detail about the recording of Un air de famille until Thursday, when the episode airs, but rest assured: it was awesome.

So instead of chronicling what happened yesterday, I'll recount today's journey thus far! (And probably add onto it later.) François very kindly agreed to come with me on the métro to l'Université de Montréal since I was terrified of taking it myself. It's actually much easier and less daunting than it appears when looking up the routes on the internet, which François tried to tell me, but I kept insisting that I would get kidnapped without him, so he humored me. He even got up a lot earlier than he normally does, which I thought to be quite gracious.

I woke up this morning at 7, though I needn't have gotten up so early since I wasn't leaving 'till 9.  After safely locking away my laptop at the hostel, I headed to la Station Berri-UQÀM to meet François. I was waiting inside the little vestibule-like area, and he came up the escalators and walked right past me, not seeing me, so I had to chase him down. It was amusing.

The first order of business was to continue our task from last night, which was to find bagels. François randomly started craving bagels, and I thought bagels sounded good, so we walked all over trying to find a place. 'Twas quite a good way to explore Motntréal off the beaten track. We finally found a bagel café place that wasn't supposed to close until 11, and we got there at 10, but they closed early. Those bastards. So we got some random junk at a convenience store whose name escapes me despite the fact that they're all over the place.  We went to the same bagel café place which was, of course, open. I got "Un bagel à la cannelle et raisin," and it was quite good. After that, we went back to the Métro and took the blue line to la Station Université de Montréal. I had thought that François would drop me off once we got off the subway, but he helped me find the correct "pavilion" and explored the university with me.  Even after we found the office of the professor who agreed to meet with me, he stayed with me until I had about twenty minutes left 'till the meeting.  We hung out outside the building, talking about literature and renaming mittens.  When he left, knowing we wouldn't see each other for the rest of my time in Québec, I was sad. I am still sad, because he is awesome.

The professor I talked to, Professor Lapointe, was very nice. We didn't talk very long, but she answered the few questions I had, and gave me some things to think about. For instance, I've thought about teaching at CÉGEP here in Québec, and one of the draws was that I might not need a Masters; however, she told me that though that is the basic requirement, most professors DO have a Master's, so I wouldn't be as marketable as them. Anyway.

After we said goodbye, I headed back the way I'd come, back to the Métro station. I rode to the end of the blue line at Snowdon and transferred to the orange line, then got off at Station Lionel-Groulx and transferred to the green line, finally getting off at Station McGill. Surprisingly, I found myself in a mall, which I hadn't expected. However, I made my way out to rue Ste. Catherine and headed west on rue McGill College, got a strawberry smoothie at Starbucks, found the campus, and sat down on the aforementioned bench. However, I am now writing this from a café called Second Cup (which has Internet access - woo!). It's connected to a lovely looking bookstore, so I'll probably check it out before my tour, which is in about an hour. After that... Qui sait?

Later

I am now back at the hostel, taking a break before venturing out into Wonderland once more.  I'll probably go back to La Banquise, which is where François and I went for dinner last night.  Dear God, it's good.  Also, all I've had today are two smoothies and half a bagel, so I'm kind of running on empty.

Most of my room here is empty.  It's a long room with one section at the front with one bunk bed, a small "hallway", and then another section in the back with two more bunk beds.  When I got here, there were two free beds - one in the front and one in the back, both bottom bunks (thank God - I took the one in the back), but now there's only one other person here, and she's got the bottom bunk up in the front of the room.  We've said "hi," but other than that we keep to ourselves, which is totally cool with me.

I quite like this hostel.  Lauren and I stayed here last year, but it was only for a night.  My favorite worker seems to work only nights, and his name is Thibault.  He is, apparently, French, and asked where I learned French, and that it's really good.  (Teehee.  That's not why he's my favorite.)  I've got three more nights here, and then I'll spend my last night in Montréal in Drummondville after Bruno's show since the buses don't come back late enough.  Woo!

Lord, I am tired.  So flipping tired.  I mean, the exercise is great, but I have been walking, and walking, and walking, and walking.  My feet hurt.  But hey, if I want to come to school here eventually, I should probably get used to it.

So yeah, I had my tour at McGill.  Surprisingly, all of the other students there, except for two, were American.  There was someone from New York, Georgia, Rhode Island, and then there was a girl from Italy and then from Montréal.  The tour was fine - the school is nice, very Truman-like in that it's like a little oasis in the middle of the city, with old buildings, and trees, and squirrels.  All of the students on the tour with me were preparing to enter as undergrads, so they were young and with their parents and it was cute.  I didn't learn all that much about graduate studies or the particular department I'm interested, but I've only got the Concordia tour tomorrow, so I may go back after or before.  Tomorrow will also be my "tourist day."  I've held back from taking too many photos so far, but now I've decided I don't care, and if I want to take a picture of the Garou poster in the window of Archambault, then by golly, I will.

God, I love this place.

"Frette en hiver"

The title comes from a line from the song Dégénérations by Mes Aïeux, and means "cold in winter."  Just so y'all know.

So.  I'm here!  I'm writing this from the lobby of the hostel I'll be staying at for the next five nights!  I must say, I am completely and utterly exhausted, but I feel the need to chronicle everything that happens, so... here goes.

We left Hannibal at a quarter to seven this morning, before the sun had even risen.  I must say, it was rather nice to be able to watch the sun rise as we drove to St. Louis.  As someone who quite enjoys sleeping in, I don't get to see sunrises very often.  We got to the airport about an hour-and-a-half before my flight left, and it was pretty damn quick getting my boarding pass.  I can't deny that I was pretty nervous about flying internationally, especially since my last international flight was such a fiasco.  But hey!  It went pretty smoothly, at least at first.

The flight was a little late going to my layover in Newark, but I made it in plenty of time, even though I had to take a shuttle bus to the other side of the airport.  (Seriously, why does this always happen to me?  Why are my flights always so far from each other??)  My gate was C103 - that tells you just how big that airport is.  I got there only to find out that my flight to Montréal had been delayed about a half-hour, then a whole hour.  Then they switched the gate, just for kicks and giggles.  Then I lost my boarding pass and had to get another one printed.  For a long time the screen said the flight was due to depart at 3:45, until 3:30 arrived and they said it would be 3:55.  Originally, I was supposed to get into Montréal at 4:30.  The plane to said city took off at 4:20, and I finally got in at about... uhh... 6:00-ish.

The walk through the Montréal airport to Customs is long.  It just kept going, and going, and going.  When I finally arrived, I was surprised by the immensity of the place, and even more surprised by the fact that it was virtually empty.  It was strange to disembark from the plane and suddenly to be surrounded by French, but I loved it.  Once I dug my passport, boarding pass, and customs declaration from my purse, I made my way up to the first available customs officer and greeted him with a confident "Bonsoir."

The very first conversation I had last summer when we crossed the border into Québec was marred by the fact that the cashier refused to speak to me in French.  This time, I spoke to the customs officer entirely in French.  He asked where I was from, why I was in Québec and for how long, where I was staying, and if I hoped to study here eventually.  Then it was time to follow painfully vague signs to find where the bus shuttles were located.

I finally found the Bureau d'Échange (Currency Exchange) on that floor, but it was, of course, closed.  So I bought a day-long ticket for the bus and, miraculously, got there just as the correct bus arrived.  It was about a 45-minute drive from the airport to the station, with snow flurries, traffic, three Tim Hortons, and one Starbucks.  When I got off, I thought I was lost at first and that I had gotten off at the wrong street, but then suddenly I realized that I was, in fact, fine, and knew exactly where I was.  So I made my way down rue Ste. Catherine, marveling at how much everything had changed since last year.

After hanging out at the hostel for a bit, I walked around a bit, looking for somewhere to eat.  I am ashamed to admit that I picked McDonald's since it was right there and it was getting late and I was starving.  I'd always been curious about what their poutine tasted like, so I ordered that and a small Sprite.  I got that and a small thing of fries.  Now, the word for fries in French is "frites," and I suppose you could mix the two up, except I didn't French-ify the word Sprite.  I said it perfectly Englishly.  Oh, well.  The poutine tasted funny.  I make better poutine than that.  Also, that was the first place someone spoke English to me, despite me speaking French the whole time, so humph.

Now I am sitting at the hostel.  Tomorrow is a big day, what with going to the recording of UADF and then meeting my friend François.  I also need to exchange my money.  WOO.  Exciting stuff.

Je suis certaine que j'suis en train de rêver

I'm having difficulty forming the right words for this entry despite the fact that the words are practically screaming in my head.  Because, holy crapéscule, I had no idea this was even possible.

I'll start from the beginning.

First of all, I have been very depressed as of late.  This was the result of a multitude of things, such as the stress of senior year and the stress in general and being forced to face my future and what awaits me after graduation.  I've struggled with depression since I was a young teenager, but it lately it got much worse.  It was hard to want to do anything, whether or not it was school-related.

So.  In facing my future, I decided that I am going to apply to four different grad schools: l'Université Laval in Québec, and McGill University, l'Université de Montréal, and Concordia University in Montréal.  Trouble is, I've only ever visited one of those four schools, and that was during the summer of 2013 when I was in Québec City for five or six weeks.  Not only that, but it is immensely difficult to find any sort of information about grad programs at these schools, mainly because the websites are huge, and it's just generally impossible to learn, well, anything.

I've always been a rather timid person, and as much as my heart might be screaming at me to do something, I don't often listen to it.  It's taken all the willpower I have over the past year-and-a-half not to just jetset off to Québec just because I could.  Yet I knew that I would be beneficial to visit these campuses.  The bonus?  I've got a week-long vacation coming up for Thanksgiving, and while Truman won't be in session, those schools will, seeing as I'm on vacation for a purely American holiday.

So hey, I've decided to go for it.  On Saturday morning I'll fly from St. Louis to Montréal with a layover in Chicago and arrive at about 4:30.  I return the following Friday in time to return to classes.

But that's not all.

One or two people among you (teehee) may know that my favorite singer in the whole wide world is Bruno Pelletier.  You might have guessed that from my most recent blog post, as well as the account I posted about seeing him in concert in August of 2013 in Lévis.  Well, he just so happens to be performing in concert on Thursday, the 27th (Thanksgiving for us Americans) in Drummondville, a town about an hour out of Montréal.  After checking bus fares (and hotel fares since the buses don't go to Montréal late enough for me return that same day), I decided to go for it.  So guess who's seeing Bruno Pelletier in concert for his Musique et cinéma?  And guess who has a seat in the front row, almost in the very center?

But wait!  That's not all!

Bruno is also a coach on the Québécois television show Un air de famille, which is similar to shows like The Voice and X-Factor, except that the contestants are all families, which the ages ranging anywhere from nine to sixty.  I've been fortunate enough to be able to watch the episodes online a day or two after they air, and at the end of every episode, the host always says something along the lines of "If you want to attend the recording of an episode of UADF, then go to this website!"  So I went to that website and, just for the hell of it, filled out a request to attend one of the tapings that just so happens to be taking place the Sunday I am in Montréal.  A few hours later, I received an email confirming my place, which has officially been reserved.  I have been told to report to Radio-Canada, which just so happens to be down the street from my hostel, at about 12pm.  So.  Not only am I going to see my favorite singer in concert, but I'll also see him on set of his show, and I might be on TV.  Sweet!

But wait!  That's not all!

I'm also (hopefully) gonna hang out with my friend, François, whom I got to see last time I was in Montréal.  WOO!

So what did I think was impossible, other than simply going to Québec again?

Happiness.  Dear God, I cannot remember the last time I was this truly happy.  I understand that I'll still have tons and tons of work to do when I get back, but a week-long break in Montréal will be absolutely incredible.  I can't stop smiling or thinking about what awaits me.  Just being in Québec will be an amazing way to breathe and to rest after an intensively awful semester (despite the cold).  As corny/dramatic as it sounds, I cannot remember the last time I was truly happy.

"Flashback Friday"

I've never really been one to participate in things like "Throwback Thursday," "Flashback Friday," "Maritime Monday" (what?) or even use hashtags on Facebook, but today I couldn't resist.  Besides, I love being nostalgic and thinking about things that happened in the past, whether we're talking 102 years in the past or simply five!

So what am I talking about?  I posted about this back in 2011, but that was three years ago and I haven't really mentioned it blog-wise since then.  Five years ago in 2009 I was fortunate enough to be invited to travel with my two dear friends, Sarah and Gloria, up to Québec for about three or so days to see our favorite singer, Bruno Pelletier, in concert for his Microphonium tour.  The last time I talked about this trip was very brief, so let's delve further into memory lane!

It all started on May 1, 2009.  Sarah remembers this as the birth of her cat, Mina, but that was the day I joined her forum for US Bruno Fans.  I already kind of knew about her since back then Bruno's Facebook page was filled with pictures taken of him with his fans, and Sarah had been up to see him quite a bit, so I recognized her from those photos.  By this time, I had been a fan of Bruno's for about seven months, since October of 2008, while she had been a fan for a lot longer.  Sarah and I began talking quite a bit over MSN (ah, the good ol' days of MSN messenger) and I helped out with the big birthday scrapbook she planned for US Bruno Fans to do, which she presented to Bruno when she traveled up to QC with Gloria for a festival appearance on his birthday.  (Little did I know at the time, but this was also when they got Bruno to sign a birthday card for me, my first ever autograph from him.)  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

At some point between May 1 and August 7, Sarah threw me through a loop by inviting me to go to Québec with her when she went up in October.  I was completely stunned beyond belief.  By this time we'd only been talking for a couple months, if that, and now she was inviting someone she'd never met in person to go with her into another country?  Of course I said "YES, PLEASE!!" despite the worries of people at my church that she and/or Gloria was an ax murderer.

I was seventeen at the time, but I would turn 18 a couple months prior to the trip, so there was no worry about that.  The next few months seemed to positively drag, although they were punctuated by necessary arrangements, such as getting a state issued ID, which was needed to get a passport card, which was needed, of course, to get into Québec.

The plan was thus: my mother and I would meet Sarah at a halfway point between our houses in a hotel parking lot in Salem, VA, then Sarah and I would drive up to Brooklyn, NY and spend the night with Gloria at her place, and then the three of us would head up to Québec the next evening after Gloria got off work.  Such was the plan, so it was.  It was my first time in New York, not that we did much sight-seeing, but it was still cool (in my opinion) since Sarah had wanted to avoid going through Manhattan but couldn't because of a road closure.  Snicker.  Anyway.

We reached the ALT Hotel in Brossard, QC, a town just across the river from Montréal, at about one am in the early morning of the sixteenth of October.  And then we crashed.  The next morning we headed across the river St. Laurence into Montréal and then into Vieux-Montréal to visit la Basilique Notre-Dame.  'Twas cool, despite the fact that the only picture of me in there I look like I'm having a mugshot taken.  After dinner that night we went back to the hotel to gussy up, and then it was off to Terrebonne for the show!

We were running a little late due to construction, so that put us all on edge.  By the time we got there, Sarah had to let Gloria and me hurry into the theatre while she went and parked.  We hurried in and then the ushers led us into the actual theatre.  Let me remind you, gentle viewers, that at this time I had been studying French on my own for six months and spoke very, very, very little.  Gloria was led to her seat by another usher and the other looked at me and said something in rapid French.  I understood not a word.  By this time the lights had been lowered, so she just kind of looked at me helplessly for a moment before leading me to my seat, which was on the left side three or four rows back, all the way against the wall.  Sarah and Gloria were two rows ahead of me.

Just as I sat down in my seat, the music to Ma jalousie started and then, suddenly, there he was.  Bruno jogged out onto the stage to the mic, greeted the crowd, and started singing, just like that.  It took me a second.  I stared at him, thinking, "Huh.  That's Bruno."  And then: "Oh, my God, that's Bruno."  Let me tell you, gentle readers, I bawled.  After a year of admiring him and loving his music, I was finally there and it was actually him in front of me.  Not one of my proudest moments.  I'm pretty sure the people next to me thought I was nuts.

Like I said, I didn't speak French at all at the time.  Two more songs passed and then he started to introduce another one, picking up an acoustic guitar.  He strummed a chord that sounded vaguely familiar.  He mentioned "D'autres rives," which is the album title of my favorite song.  Then he started the line, "Je veux partir loin de chez moi..." from my absolute favorite song of all time, the song Sarah said she didn't think he would sing.  Then I cried some more.  Two rows ahead of me I saw Sarah lean over and say something to Gloria; turns out she was saying she was surprised she didn't hear me scream.  Me, too.

After the show, we waited near the stage and met Bruno's friend and then-background singer, Francesco Verrecchia, who was quite nice and totally awesome.  See?

See?  Totally awesome.  Sarah got him to sign the picture for me when she went to one of Bruno's shows later that year.  (Or early the next; something like that.)

I knew Bruno usually met with his fans in the lobby after the show, but I was paranoid the whole time.  What if he decided not to come out?  What if he left before we got there?  What if, What if-- I'm pretty sure both Sarah and Gloria wanted to slap me upside the head.

True to their word, we were not late.  In fact, by the time we got to the lobby, Bruno still hadn't arrived.  Back in those days I wore wire-frame glasses, which I hated, and took them off to take the picture with Francesco, placing them on the armrest of a chair.  Sarah warned me explicitly not to forget them.  So when I got in line with Gloria, I was not at all surprised to hear her shout at me that I had forgotten my glasses.  Oops.

Note the happiness while awaiting Bruno.

Even while we waited in line, I still fretted that he would leave before we got a chance to speak with him.  However, when he had finished taking pictures with everyone else, he came over to us with a "Hi, girls!" clearly recognizing everyone in our little party.  Except, y'know, me.  I couldn't look at him, despite the fact that he was two feet in front of me.  Or, you know, because he was two feet in front of me.  (Hey, I'd never met one of my favorite singers before.  Be nice to me.)  He talked to Sarah and Gloria for bit before Sarah introduced me.  The exchange went a little something like this:

Sarah: "This is Ashlee."

Bruno: "Hi, Ashlee."

Me: *very shyly* "Hiii..."

Bruno: "Can you look at me in the eyes?"

Ohhhh, God, I wanted to die.  Sarah and Gloria did, too, but mainly of laughter.  And by the time I did look at him, he had turned to Gloria.  Humph.  At some point he asked us to wrap things up because it was late and he was tired (quite understandable), and Sarah told me to move and stand next to him so she could take our picture.  I said, "I am moving."  Apparently I wasn't, because I needed another shove.

Anyway, soon it was time for everyone to say goodnight, 'cause that's just what we did.  We headed back to the hotel and passed out.  The next day we kept to Brossard, going to a sort of Québécois version of Build-A-Bear, where I made a moose.  His name is Monty and I love him.  We also went to a music store where I had fun looking at all my favorite francophone artists that I loved so much but couldn't find anywhere else.  Siiiigh.

When it was time to go to L'Assomption, Sarah couldn't find the theatre on her car's GPS.  At all.  So she went back into the hotel where they were nice enough to print out directions.  Despite this mishap, however, we got to the theatre in plenty of time.  Enough time for merchandiiiiise.  Aw yeah.  (However, I no longer own any merchandise I bought that night except for a Dracula booklet.  Sad.)

This time I was on the right side of the theatre, aligned with the second row but with no one in front of me.  Sarah and Gloria had front-row-center.  Humph.  Things were a little rearranged for this show, and Bruno added a number: Depuis que t'es parti, one of my favorites.  Sweeeet.  After the show, the three of us took turns talking to Bruno up at the table, which is a bit more nerve-wracking for me since I didn't have anyone to hide behind.  However, he remembered my name!  Though he spelled it wrong the autograph.  Which is okay.

Then I went over to stand with the others and wait for pictures to be taken.  I remember, then, finding everyone looking at me, including Bruno and his tour manager, Maurice.  I couldn't figure out why, until I realized that I was standing where they wanted to take pictures.  Whoops.  I got out of the way tout d'suite.  Pictures were taken, we said goodbye, and that was that.

Words cannot express how grateful I was and am to both Sarah and Gloria, not only for taking me with them, but also for putting up with me.  At some point, they threatened to tie my bear, Sammy, to the hood of the car and make him a hood ornament.  Though it's been five years, I still remember the trip vividly, something for which I'm thankful.  It was truly one of the best times of my life.

WOO.  I'm tired.

A bad case of senioritis

There's a bug going around, and it's not fun.  So far it's hit a lot of my classmates, some with the same symptoms, others with different ones.  I caught it about a month ago and it's still lingered like a flea-bitten stray.  The diagnosis?  Chronic senioritis.  Yep, CS has settled onto Truman's campus with full-force, attacking every senior or super senior in sight.  No senior I know is immune.  Symptoms include fatigue, laziness, occasional drunkenness, melancholia, nostalgia, insomnia, anxiety, listlessness, and a general lack of caring.

But seriously, folks, being a senior sucks.  By this point, I'm so incredibly ready to graduate, yet am simultaneously terrified by the future, and yet am also finding it hard to care about anything anymore.  There's so much to think about and worry about: grad school applications, the TAPIF application, my Capstone project, a research opportunity in Québec presented to me recently, the French play, being the Vice President of Pi Delta Phi, peer teaching, not to mention the mounting schoolwork in general where every professor seems to think that their class is a) our only one or b) the most important.

Sigh.  October has begun.  Don't get me wrong: I love October; Fall is my favorite season.  But thank God midterm break is next weekend.  Granted, Kat and I only get one extra day off since we already have Fridays free, but, as she said, one day is one day.  We're definitely looking forward to it, especially since Thursday is one of our most difficult days.  Also, this is the first time since we've been in college that the Folklife Festival in Hannibal has coincided with midterms, so on Saturday or Sunday we'll go down there and take some much needed time away from Kirksville.

In other news, Lauren got back from her séjour in Québec recently and brought me, not only a hard copy of Bruno Pelletier's newest album, but also a small, stuffed moose with a fleur-de-lys on his belly.  I love him.  He is adorable and soft and he is all mine.  French Immersion Weekend was this past Saturday and Sunday.  I take the Praxis exam for French on Halloween.  No play practice tonight.  Biology test next Tuesday.  All of the days are kind of blending together.

I need a nap.

The long and winding September

Nothing has really happened since I last wrote in here, but, as usual, I must keep up with my once-a-month policy.  So, here I am.

Since I last wrote, I have turned twenty-three.  That's probably the biggest news: my birthday, which was the twenty-ninth of August.  It was, for the first time since I started college, on a Friday, which also happens to be the day I don't have any classes this semester, so I got to spend the day at home with Kat and Lauren before going to Colton's for dinner.  I also got my hair re-did.  'Twas a fun day!

Let's seeee, what else?

We went to the Steampunk festival in Hannibal, which was a new thing.  It was small, but it was fun!  Actually, it was just nice to get out of Kirksville for a while.

Ummm . . . . yeah, life's been pretty uneventful.  I'm enjoying most of my classes, but Québécois Literature is definitely my favorite.  It's not just me being biased - I truly do like the literature we've been studying.  I also love the historical/cultural aspect of the class.  The professor has been very helpful to me in thinking about grad school (hopefully in Québec), and she invited me to attend a Scholars' luncheon with her today.  'Twas very nice of her.  I felt special.

Annnnd that's about it.  Bruno Pelletier's new album (with Guy St-Onge) was released yesterday, and even though Lauren is going to pick up a hard copy for me when she is in Québec next week (SNIFFFFF), I couldn't resist or wait any longer, so I just bought it on iTunes.  Halfway through right now, and I love it.  I had some reservations since it's so different from his usual stuff, but it seems Monsieur Pelletier can do no wrong.  I absolutely love it.  Go buy it.  Now.

A Halestorm of emotions

Fldfgkorgkldfgr.

That's the only accurate word to describe the amazingness that was the Halestorm concert.  On August 16, Lauren, Kat, and I drove two-and-a-half hours to the MO State Fair to see one of our favorite bands, Halestorm, in concert.  It was Lauren's first rock concert and Kat's and my first rock concert since Megadeth two years ago.  We were so beyond excited.  In the weeks leading up to the gig, the weather consistently warned of rain and scattered thunderstorms all that day.  It was an outdoor show, and we were nervous, but what could we do?  We couldn't prevent rain or lightning, so we just had to go with it and hope for the best.

We left Kirksville at about twelve-thirty that day, with yours truly as the navigator, and arrived in Sedalia, MO at about three o'clock.  We checked into our hotel (Motel 6 - wouldn't recommend it, but we needed a place to sleep), stopped at a Starbucks nearby, and then walked about twenty minutes to the fairgrounds.  For some reason, I was expecting something along the lines of the Folklife Festival, which is an art fest held ever October in Hannibal.  Boy, was I wrong.  I was repeatedly reminded that this was a state fair.  Yes, sir, it was.  It was huge.  We walked around for a couple of hours, positively melting in the humidity and heat, before joining the lengthening line in front of the grandstand.  All the while, dark clouds continued to roll our way and pass over us peacefully.

The opening act was a group called Sevendust.  God, they were amazing.  I don't know why, but there was just something we all loved about that group.  The lead singer, Lejohn, was fun, and said he was so happy to be there and happy to be able to go home that night, as he lives in Kansas.  At some point, Kat spotted the lead singer of Halestorm, Lzzy Hale, watching from the side, and I promptly freaked out.

The worst part about any show is always waiting for the first act to clear up and waiting for the second act to get set up.  (It was even worse with Evanescence two years ago, as they had two opening acts and I was standing the whole time.)  At least we were sitting.  Our seats were on the bleachers, and the seating map had made it seem like we'd be waaay far away from the stage, but our view was incredible!  No one was in front of us, so it was perfect!  The only downside was that there was a chainlink fence separating us from the track seats, but hey, you can see through those.  While we were waiting, I started noticing lightning off to the right.  So far we'd been immeasurably lucky, but what if the storm approached and they had to cancel the show?  I was nervous, but I kept my fears to myself.

Finally, the light in the stands went out, the lights on the stage came on, and the show began.  Halestorm emerged, and the world seemed to transform.  Honestly, there is something amazing about rock and metal music that I absolutely love.  It's one thing to hear it on your iPod, but to hear it live . . . there's nothing else like it.  To be able to physically feel the drum beats resonating in your body, to feel the music pulsing within you, to lose all inhibitions and just get lost everything - the sights, the sounds, the rhythm.  Halestorm has a song called Rock Show that perfectly describes how I felt at the Evanescence, Megadeth, and now the Halestorm shows.  The song goes:

"At the rock show

You'll be right in the front row.

Heart and soul, we both know

It's where you gotta be.

Yeah, at the rock show,

Getting high on the solo.

So what if it's crazy?

It's where you gotta be!"

Followed by:

"This goes out to anyone

Whose heart beats like a kick drum

When a bitchin' riff comes,

Lose the words to every rhyme, every time

And you know you gotta go

 And get some, get pumped,

Find yourself and lose it

At the rock show!"

That song is perfect.  It's my absolute favorite song of theirs, and I was sooo happy when they performed it at the show.  It's my sort of anthem.  But yeah.  The show was amazing.  It ended waaaay too soon.

Well.  'Tis August 19th.  Today marks the twenty-third birthday of one half of my two best friends, Kathy.  And yesterday was the twenty-third birthday of the other half of my two best friends, Lauren.  Ten days from now, I'll turn twenty-three myself.  Pretty crazy, right?  Three best friends whose birthdays are within eleven days from each other.  (Actually, since one was born in the evening and the other in the morning, Lauren and Kat are only a few hours apart in age.)  Every year, Lauren's parents take the three of us to St. Louis for the day, usually on Lauren's birthday, to celebrate all our birthdays.  This year marked my third trip, though I have a sort of photo collage that represents four (soon-to-be-five) summer trips to the Cheesecake Factory.

So let's go over them, shall we?

June 2, 2010

I first visited Missouri in June of 2010 when Lauren's parents very graciously sent me a plane ticket to fly out to visit for a week without having ever met me in person.  (This was not, of course, the first time I ventured into places unknown with people I'd met on the Internet.)  We went to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner at the Galleria mall in St. Louis and snapped this photo of the three of us.  'Twas the start of an awesome week.

June 21, 2011

Just over a year later, Lauren, her parents, and Kat made the voyage out to Pikeville to pick me up and take me to live in Kirksville, where I have since been studying for the past three years.  When we arrived in St. Louis, we went to the Cheesecake Factory and ended up in a round booth again, so we decided to take the same shot as the year before.  Look how much our hair grew!

August 17, 2011

Our birthday celebration that year was held at Café Provençal, a French restaurant in St. Louis, so we didn't continue our "round-booth-picture" tradition.  As Lauren got slight food poisoning, we never went back and the next year we continued with our original tradition of eating at the Cheesecake Factory.

August 18, 2012

The next year, for our twenty-first birthdays, was exceedingly fun.  Not only did we get to see the Broadway production of The Lion King at The Fox, but that was the year I got my first (and only) American Girl doll, Rebecca.  As someone who spent her whole childhood wishing she could have one, getting one with my middle name who is from my favorite time period was very special to me.  We spent the night in St. Louis, and then, on Kat's birthday, she spent the day with her parents while Lauren, her parents, and I were off to the St. Louis Zoo!

August 18, 2013

Last year, for our twenty-second birthdays, we continued the tradition!  We did the same this year, as well, but I don't yet have access to the picture we took, soooo that'll be edited in later this evening.  I must say, I've always been pretty special in that, since my birthday is eleven and ten days after theirs and school is always in session, I've gotten my own separate celebrations in addition to the ones in St. Louis.  My birthday always tends to have its own tradition, as we usually always go to Colton's, the local steakhouse.  This year my birthday is FINALLY on a Friday, and neither Kat nor I have classes on Fridays!  Lauren will spend the night with us at our apartment, we'll go to Colton's, watch movies (and Buffy and Angel), have cake, and have a blast!  I can't wait!

But until then.  Classes start on Thursday.  I bought most of my text books today.  This displeases me.