home sweet home (warning: long)

status check - tired, but in a good way
background ambiance - typical office sounds

i admit it - i wanted to meet mraz thursday night. as i stood outside the orpheum, basking in a post-amazing-concert glow, i wanted to be able to say hello, perhaps shake his hand and just tell him that i thought he brought a brave, wonderful concept to stage in a glorious manner. i shortly realized that he was inside, saying hi and signing things and i didn't have a way to get back in and get in line. opportunity missed, slightly disappointed me. but i'd deal - especially as dealing involved chatting with some kickass people and observing the star-dazed fans pouring out of the theater swooning from their brushes with mraz. i was having a fine time dealing, actually.

yesterday, however, confirmed the hints of doubt i possessed about meeting someone i like/appreciate/admire while they're doing that which they do.

so i'm at my beloved fenway, perched in my seat waaaaaay down the right field side (unbeknownst to me, 30 rows or so behind the seats from where john kerry would shortly watch the game - vermont day at fenway will be, mark my words, the closest kerry comes to visiting vermont during this campaign). we'd just arrived, about an hour before gametime, and i was reading my copy of the phoenix (love), pouring through a review of an intriguing-sounding play ("popcorn," for those curious readers). my father and i decide to go pick up some snacks for our little party and, upon making our descent to the concourse, see a mass of ball-waving kids running to the red sox dugout. turns out bronson arroyo (read: the young new starting pitcher who looks a bit like james dean, plays guitar and pitches pretty well) was signing. aw, screw it. i grab my ticket and head over to join the kids and middle-aged women (i kid you not. i was not alone - i was young compared to some of these smitten kittens).

a girl, probably about 10 years old or so, stood to the side of the group, holding her pink red sox baseball but unwilling to get into the mix to get an autograph. she reminded me of myself when i was that age - long blonde hair and all. her mother was trying to convince her to push forward a bit, but was having no luck, so i led her in front of me and helped politely get her to the front. he signed her ball and then, a few people later, signed my ticket. good times.

he stayed out there for ages signing, which is fantastic. but he never looked up. so while i was pleased to see a young player getting out there and meeting the fans, he reminded me of why i'll never be an autograph seeker or anything like that. sure, i have some signed items - sports cards from my youth, concert posters or cd jackets from college. but i don't want to meet someone and have the only focus of our minute together to be making sure someone spells my name right.

which segues back (in a somewhat rambling manner) to mraz. i don't want to meet him as i stand in a crowd at a show, jockeying for his attention so he can look my way, say hi, then look to the next person. so, in my own sort of random way, i don't want to meet him - at least not in that capacity.

he's the kind of person i'd like to say hi to. i'd like to think that, had i met him thursday and had the chance to chat, i'd have asked him how he's been feeling about how the tour's going. i'd ask him who did the amazing cinematography for the video display and who came up with the idea for the transition between makana's set to raul's - and note the theatrical element in that transition that made my theater critic/former stage manager self incredibly happy. i'd ask him about how his writing's going (or ask him on tips for dialogue - ha!) or i'd just ask him how he's doing. no autograph, no photo, no anything else.

i'm not the kind of person who likes someone or wants to meet someone because he or she is famous. while there were many people at the orpheum show who feel the same way (i'm sure), there were certainly many people there who wanted to meet him/love him/have his baby because he's famous - the people who freaked over "you & i both," but not "halfway home." the people dancing to "the remedy," but were talking throughout "flying my guilt over a quilt."

they can have the post-show meet and greets because (and perhaps i'm just being an elitist for saying this) they need to have that photo op or signed poster because they make the show worthwhile. i now have an autograph from bronson arroyo. do i know him at all? did he even look at me? nope.

i have never met mraz. but i've read his writing, listened to his music and have seen him in moments of silliness, vulnerability and expertise. and the image i have in my mind of him leaning back to wail on a note in "halfway home" will mean more to me than any autographed ticket.

ok, now i'm off my soapbox and back to reality. autograph tangent aside, i have had a great half week. the trip to boston (take one) was a blast, with a stunning show, good travels and reunions with friends both expected and unexpected (i'd gone two years without a christopher hug and almost forgot how great they are - and he's the only person i'd ever let call me victory). i was again reminded of how much i love boston (and, we discovered post-show, one of the buses was branded with the bos stickers distributed for the show). i rocked for a remedy and want to help out further. i met some cool people and laughed at others.

returned (briefly) to burlington for work and nectar's. love what they've done with the place during the remodel - i'll actually go there on a semi-regular basis now, i daresay. ryan montbleau was a grand first new nectar's experience - the sit-down, casual "hi, thanks for coming, pick up a cd, they have my name on them and all" style to the performance was a nice juxtaposition to the previous night's casual-but-big performance. check him out before he gets big - he's worth it.

saturday's return was marked by incessant teasing, a stop at richardson's for the best sorbet in the world, lounging around and then, come sunday, the red sox's domination of the toronto blue jays. wakefield pitched well, while ortiz led the offense. orlando hudson (the one blue jay i wanted to see play) was injured early on, while the toronot bullpin struggled to find someone - anyone - who could halt of boston's steady offense. john kerry was there, but we didn't know until afterward - and i still don't particularly care. wasn't impressed in d.c., why would i be impressed in boston?

and thus i'm back, where i'm happily drowning in a sea of new music and ready to settle down into the same place for more than a couple of days at a time. my purse is adorned with my pair of buttons - mraz's "i <3 sex" and pete's "pete thurston thinks i'm hot." because to top off all the fun, my san diego musical package arrived and i have pete goodness to enjoy. with "leap before i look," ryan's "begin," raul midon's "limited live edition," toby lightman, a decent exposure compilation (vol. 3), howie day's "extras," and jump's latest (not to mention several books) i've got more than enough to keep myself occupied.

not bad for five days.