Two years ago, I entered this funk that was the mother of all "I'm just a cold dark candle in the cruel white world" sort of teenage Live Journal goth pits of doom. If I harbored any sort of fondness for black lipstick and Anne Rice novels, I might have been able to turn into some sort of joke, but I've never really liked the former and latter always bored me. So, I stopped wearing make-up, stopped going to clubs, stopped talking to most of the people I knew. I even stopped listening to music.
To be specific, I stopped listening to most anything that resembled the classic pop song structure. I still listened to dance music, but that was mostly because of the therapeutic nature of jumping up and down on a four-count to a 136 bpm Vitalic track. I could go to clubs where the DJs played house or techno or sometimes even hip-hop, because I could lose myself on the dancefloor without ever realizing what song was on the decks. Plus, there was little, if any, chance of running into someone I knew. Nobody would ask me why I hadn't been to any of the indie clubs lately and, therefore, I would never have to mention things that I did not wish to discuss.
After I started grad school last year, though, the world started to look a little less like a Nine Inch Nails song. I took baby steps. I went to Underground once with Melissa and we had a good time. I went back a few more times and realized, "Hey, I'm having fun." I went to see the Trash Can Sinatras with Mr. Monsoon (who has hooked me up with such good music lately that he is permanently on the list) and we sang along to most of the set. After that, I started going to more and more shows, everything from Basement Jaxx and Royksopp to local line-ups in Silverlake. Carlos and I went to more, for lack of a better term, techno events and I didn't just dance, I outdanced every single one of my far healthier friends. Then I realized that Tower Records has most of the "indie" cds marked down to $12.99 and less, so I started buying albums that I would not have purchased a year before. Now I'm cleaning in time to Kasabian, reading McChesney while listening to Spoon (thanks for the tip, Mary) and bobbing my head along to Hot Hot Heat and the Kaiser Chiefs in the car. I'm feeling every beat and hearing every word, something that I thought I would never do again.