Ticketmaster and Coldplay’s management can LICK MY KNEECAPS.
I finally got a shitty seat for New Jersey. I didn’t expect any less, so I don’t know why I’m annoyed right now…I think it’s just the principle of the thing hitting me again. Firstly, Ticketmaster was malfunctioning up the wazoo, and then I just let my “I don’t trust general sales anymore” mindset make me buy a not-great-for-Coldplay seat in the presale rather than let the general sale be scalped and botted to death before any human can get anything.
GOD FRICKING DAMMIT, MY ORTHOPEDIST CALLED AND I HAVE TO RESCHEDULE MY APPOINTMENT BECAUSE THEY CAN’T TAKE ME TOMORROW.
This means:
a) I wouldn’t have even had to worry about rescheduling or paying reschedule fees if I actually got Radiohead tickets
b) I’M NOT GOING TO RETURN TO BEING A BIPED TOMORROW
My mom came into my room a little while ago looking all sad after watching PJ20 videos on YouTube and said “I want to go to Wisconsin.”
WELL, IT’S TOO LATE NOW, MOM, YOU MISSED YOUR FAVORITE BAND’S 20TH BIRTHDAY PARTY THAT HAD SOME OF THE BEST LIVE COLLABORATIONS OF THE DECADE.
I mean, I totally get why we missed it, given the fact that when we would have had to get tickets and make travel arrangements, she was still unemployed and I’d just splurged on Coachella and Oxegen, but I really just wish we could have pooled money to go. It seems like such a waste that we didn’t go to see our two favorite bands, when we could have gotten awesome tickets via her club membership, too. Goddamn Wisconsin. I wish they’d chosen a state we could have feasibly driven to.
If I hear the phrase “bad fan” one more time, I might crack.
The only way I think you can be a bad fan: if you physically stalk the object of your fandom, or if you’re disrespectful to their faces.
Do I get the people who seem to be more interested in making sexual jokes about musicians and celebrities? No. Do I get the people who claim to be obsessed with things yet haven’t done their research and know very little about them? No, but this is just because I like to be a walking encyclopedia on things I have a real interest in.
But because I have reservations about a song/album from a band I like based on information we have so far, I must be a bad fan. I’ve seen them twelve times in four countries, have multiple posters of them on my bedroom walls, have been in one of their music videos, have met all of them, have 1.7 days of their music on my iPod, and have 9,000 posts on a messageboard dedicated to them because I like everyone judging my seriousness about music and my dedication to the industry and pretend to love a band everyone poos on for the lulz.
You know what’s stupid? That exams are worth so much of your final grade in England. Unless I actually physically die before July 20, I’m getting a diploma even if I failed both my exams, but my grades on the exams, if bad, will determine what kind of diploma I get, because there are three diploma rankings in England. I kind of miss how in the US, you just get a diploma like everyone else, even if you passed by a hair. I mean, I’m not going to get a 3rd—the worst I could possibly get is a 2.2, and a 1st is sadly like two points out of the question because I decided IDGAF much too early in the university game. But I’d really like to keep a high 2.1, thanks, yet somehow not really have to do much in the next two days with regard to studying for this Native American film & lit exam. I’m mostly winging it as it is, because I forget every year how to revise for a class based on ~ideas and themes~ rather than facts, but ugh, can I just please piss away the next two days?
I swear, I have the weirdest parents in the world.
This is not news to me, and I love that we have a very unique relationship and always have, but goddamn, you’d think my parents would be the ones that would want to attend my university graduation for sentimental reasons, at least, and I’d be the one that felt like she had better things to do. But no, every time we talk about the summer, they’re like “oh, so have you decided to skip graduation yet? *hint hint*” This happened for the twelfth time today.
NO, OK. WE HAVE BEEN OVER THIS. I AM GOING, AND AT LEAST ONE OF YOU ARE COMING.
I mean, fine, if I wasn’t going to Oxegen shortly before, I might consider skipping it just because it’s so expensive and at an inconvenient time, but as much as I have no emotional attachment to the actual ceremony or really anything or anyone that has to do with that day, I feel like I should go regardless. I’ve been salivating over the idea of being done with university since before I started it—I should go to the official ending ceremony of this time of my life. It’s a rite of passage, I guess. It’s like how I felt I should go to almost all of my high school proms. It’s builds character and memories, if nothing else.
But really, though. My parents and I just straight out have reversed roles in almost every situation.
I have yet to hear a valid argument against Gwyneth Paltrow.
OK, she’s not a singer, but she’s not that bad, really. And everything else people peg her for can also be pinned on beloved celebrities that everyone worships. She’s said a few cringeworthy things in her time, but who hasn’t? Lindsay Lohan steals necklaces and Britney goes apeshit on everyone’s asses in 2008, but no, it’s OK to just say “OH LOL, Lindsay,” and conflate jealousy with hatred concerning someone like Gwyneth. I feel like she gets inordinate amounts of hate for being good at what she does.
And yes, OK, I’m in love with her husband, but I was actually a Gwyneth admirer before I even knew who Coldplay were. When I found out who she was married to, before I was a Coldplay fan, I actually splurted, “SHE MARRIED THAT SKINNY GUY THAT CAN’T DANCE THAT’S IN THAT BAND? WHY?”
Her hair and skin and dress were all the same color, tho.
My university got increasingly more incompetent today by having its online system crash once again. I think the research parts of it still work, though, so it’s not as bad as last time, but I still have to drag ass all the way to campus just to remind them I still attend and should have access to everything with my username and password, which they evidently deleted from their system. For the fifth time in two years.
I feel the need to qualify this whine by reminding myself that if this is my biggest problem, things are pretty damn peachy, but I am so done with their fuckery. I feel like I can’t even last the six more weeks I’m going to have to deal with it.
Right. Breakfast at 1:30 PM, freshening up, library. 1,000 words of essay, then two days off.
Chelsea.
22.
American.
Music is my ultimate concern.
