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CHAPTER THREE – THE BLIND COLOR COLLECTIVE
The clock had rang and made a loud noise. It alarmed us, but mostly the two that were sleeping – Jonah and Adam. They woke up suddenly but their motions were slow.
“Rise and shine, beauty and beast.” Tristan greeted them, jokingly.
“You know,” Adam stretched and yawned, “I’m the beauty.” He chuckled lightly and sat up.
Jonah threw his pillow at Adam and hit him right in the face. He sat up and laughed at Adam lightly, as did the rest of the group.
“Beast.” Adam said groggily.
“What time is it?”
“Six in the evening.” I answered.
“Well, give us a minute and we’ll be ready to go.” Adam said, standing up and heading for the washroom. Jonah followed, except he went to a small isolated area in the room where there was just a mirror. Jonah was never high-maintenance, so he was a pleasure to travel around with. We travel a lot as a band, and it gets quite crazy. We mainly travel in North America and Europe, but it still is intense and insane.
Adam came out of the washroom, looking better and groomed. “Let’s go, kids.” He said with a big grin on his face. Jonah took one quick glance in the mirror before turning around and following the rest of the group as we headed out into the night, ready for some fun.
There were bars all over New York City. It was full of madness. We decided to enter one bar that looked as if it was selling and popular. The bartenders weren’t outstanding, but nevertheless, the beer was awesome. Adam was already hitting on the prettiest bartender in the joint, and Tristan was following closely behind. Jonah was just drinking and gulping, soaking down all his beer before getting another glass. If I had to guess, he must have already had three, maybe four. I decided to sit beside Jonah, ordering a shot and gulping it down quickly. I was ready to have a fun night, but I was never the kind to get really drunk – especially since we had a show tomorrow.
“Hey kid, don’t shoot them all down so quickly.” I said to Jonah as I set my shot glass down.
“One night only.” He simply replied.
I gave him a look as if he were already drunk. “We’re here for at least two weeks.”
“What?” He took another sip of his drink. “Oh, right. Sorry mate, I’m just so out of it right now.”
“It’s not just the drinks, is it?” I asked, patting him on the back. He just shook his head lightly. “Definitely not.”
Jonah and his girlfriend are relying on each other to keep their long distance relationship working. Up until about a week ago, it was going great. I was really proud of Jonah. We, as a band, travel all across Europe and North America, meeting new people and playing new shows. We experience new things, and sometimes the idea of having a significant other doesn’t always excite us; it’s different for Jonah.
Having his girlfriend, Kayla, means the world to him. The whole band knows this; heck, the whole world knows this. Jonah’s had relationships before, but nothing this serious. And he’s never been this serious about any of them. It’s been about a year and a half already, and we all thought they were going to be steady and strong for a long time.
When Jonah had told Kayla that we were heading off to New York City, where she currently resides, a small argument resulted which then turned into a fight. Kayla didn’t have a kind, positive or excited reaction. It did not smoothly go along the lines of, “Oh hooray! I get to see you!” Not one bit. She reacted in a way that no one expected, especially not Jonah. He had explained the conversation clearly to us, and it wasn’t pleasant at all.
I couldn’t exactly relate to Jonah, but I felt his pain. I felt how deep his girlfriend’s words had cut him. I felt the scars that would last until her hands decide to heal them. He was never the emotional type, but Jonah was sincere.
I gave him another pat on the back. “It’ll last, bro.” I assured him, but he just continued to sink down his drinks like anchors.
The time passed by fast like cars, and before I knew it, Jonah was spread out on the bed and Adam, along with Tristan, was hanging outside with a couple of girls. I was lying down on the couch, resting my eyes. It was a long night, and when I looked at the clock, I noticed it was half past two in the morning. “Beautiful,” I whispered to myself and I let my eyes close and my mind wander off to sleep.
I woke up, dreary, at around eleven in the morning. I woke the rest of the band – they were scattered all over the room. Jonah on the bed, Tristan on the ground, Adam in the bath tub for some odd reason. Our show was at one thirty and we had to be at the venue before that, obviously.
I had the weirdest dream about that girl that had bumped into me. Definitely not the kind of dream I was expecting, but I dreamed that she was at our venue, watching our show. As I pondered my dream, I got dressed and so did the guys. We decided to head out for lunch before going to the venue.
We ended up getting some sandwiches and coffees at this café, and it tasted pretty good. Café Beret was the name - I read it on our way out. It was only a block away from the motel, and a block away from the venue so we walked. The venue was still empty, of course, but two or three people were there, helping us set up. I anticipated a great show.
CHAPTER TWO – Mattias
The cab dropped us off at the nearest motel. It looked pretty decent, and it was only a block away from the venue. At least it wasn’t messy, full of graffiti or anything like that. Since I was the lead singer and pianist of our group, I was usually the one to register or check in at motels or hotels. The guys either didn’t want to speak because they didn’t want to experience another “What did you say?” moment because of their accents, or were just too lazy to speak politely. I walked to the front office while the band hung outside the room. “Excuse me, miss?”
She was busy writing something down, but she had looked up right away. “Can I help you?” She said this fast, and then slow. I think it was because of my accent. Or maybe my looks, who knows which of the two. Maybe even both. Now I’m not trying to boast or be conceited but I can sometimes have this affect on people. However, this rarely happens when I’m in England. There’s something that American girls, I suppose, like about British boys.
“Is there a room I can perhaps check in to?” I asked in my most polite tone. “Um,” she rustled through her papers before answering me, “yes. Room Fourteen should be available by now. The guest should have already headed out, so you may have that room.”
“Thank you. Do you have the key?”
“Yes, I do.” She spun her chair around to the corkboard that had only a few keys hanging. She took the one with the big fourteen on it and handed it over to me with a smile. “Here you go. Enjoy your stay.”
“I will. Thank you.” I said, smiling back at her and heading out to meet the band.
“Dude, what room?” Tristan, our drummer, asked.
“Fourteen.” I said, passing him and heading down the pavement to find room fourteen. It was on the ground level and it wasn’t that hard to find. Fourteen is quite a close number to the office compared to something like thirty-two. The guys followed and within minutes, we found the door with the number fourteen on it. I stuck the key in the door, but Jonah, our bassist, knocked my hand away.
“Maybe it’s open, mate. I think it is, because look,” he pointed to the window with drowsy white curtains hanging, “a girl’s heading out.” Jonah had his thick Australian accent, and never bothered to use his American accent. He hated when people would ask him what he was saying. He thought it was disrespectful and rude, and he also thought that people should clean their ears. By now, I’ve gotten used to it as the rest have gotten used to mine. To be honest, accents aren’t hard to understand.
I waited, standing my ground in front of the door. It didn’t take long until the door swung open away from me and a young, slender girl knocked right into me. She was about ready to fall on her bottom but I caught her from her back just in time. She looked confused, and she had bed hair. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed and didn’t bother to brush or make herself look presentable. Not that she wasn’t pretty, she was. She stood just below my chin and her hair was wavy, ending just past her shoulder blades. She was wearing a floral skirt with a loose shirt, and had a sling bag across her shoulder. She blinked a couple times, but I didn’t wait for her to speak first.
“Sorry to be bugging you at such an early time.” I apologized, feeling bad that I almost knocked her down. I thought that would have been enough to wake her up.
“Oh, um, no. It’s okay. I’m sorry for having bumped into you.” Her low, soft voice said. She seemed dreary and groggy, but her eyes were stationed on me. I could see her taking the time to look where her eye level was – my neck and chest – and then she made her way up to meet contact with my eyes. She stared at them for a while, but I decided to break the short silence.
“I’m guessing you’re heading out now?” I smiled lightly, to avoid any awkwardness, but it only lasted a short half second or so.
“Yeah, that I am. I’m sorry, again.” She almost whispered. I nearly did not hear her, and to be honest, at first I heard something like: “Ha-ham. Sore eye, gun.” But I was smart enough to know that it wasn’t what she had said.
She rushed out of the room quick that I could feel the lightest breeze against my skin when she passed, and I smelled her scent, and she smelled like marijuana, surprisingly. I began to wonder if she had done the drug inside the room.
I watched her walk out, or rather run out and onto the sidewalk. She stopped once she had reached it and looked as if she was panting. I saw her shake her head before she turned around. We met eyes again, but she broke the contact and continued walking quickly along. I continued to stare, watching until a building had covered her figure, and I shrugged lightly to myself. “What an odd girl.”
I walked into the room where my band had already put down their stuff. I placed my guitar down as well and slouched over on the couch. “How many people do you think will be there tomorrow?” I asked the group.
“It’s not a huge venue, Matt.” Adam, our lead guitarist, responded.
“That’s true.” Jonah added.
I thought about it for a second. “So? It’s bigger than our usual venues.”
“I guess that’s true.” Tristan joined.
“So anyway, what about that girl?” Jonah asked me.
“Um,” I looked at him, confused, “what about that girl?”
“Oh nothing, just wondering if anything went on, you know.” He said, shrugging.
I answered sarcastically. “Surely.”
“You know, there’s always one girl you hook up with whenever we play a new show.” Tristan added. “It’s crazy, playboy.”
“Maybe you’re just jealous.” I laughed at him. “Adam does it all the time too. Girls are all over the guy.”
“You know me. You’re all jealous because no girls are running for you guys.” Adam chuckled.
“You wish, Adam.” The whole band replied in unison.
We hung out at the motel room for the rest of the afternoon, planning to head out once it reached dark.
drift (drft)Drifting is slowly parting ways.
v. drift·ed, drift·ing, drifts
v.intr.
1. To be carried along by currents of air or water: a balloon drifting eastward; as the wreckage drifted toward shore.
2. To proceed or move unhurriedly and smoothly: drifting among the party guests.
3. To move leisurely or sporadically from place to place, especially without purpose or regular employment: a day laborer, drifting from town to town.
I saw the future once, I was drunk in a phone booth. My eyes were wet and red but I could not tell what was said and through the screams of the traffic; voices carried saying 'I am sorry.' On a day so grey it's black inside, watching churches on TV. In a coma you don't dream - you just hope that someone sits with you.
1. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.And according to the bible, this would be considered love:
2. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person with whom one is disposed to make a pair; the emotion of sex and romance.
3. a. Sexual passion.
b. Sexual intercourse.
c. A love affair.
Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails; but if there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be done away.
... But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.
I'd hate to be the one writing down the dictionary definitions because in all honesty, love is different for everyone.
However, I feel as if the bible has the better view of love.
Love is not just holding hands, kissing or hugging.
Love isn't just making eye contact or hanging out for a few hours.
Love definitely isn't just saying "I love you".
Love can be expressed in over thousands of ways, and love means thousands of things.
One never knows love until they experience it.
And I don't know if I have. I'd like to say I have, because by my definition of love - I really have.
Love between family members, close friends and maybe, sometimes, even if for a short while, a significant other.
Love is love. How can you change that, or replace that, with anything else?
Love is precious and it takes time.
Love doesn't not come around too often.
Love isn't money - you can't just hand it to someone. You can't just expect something back.
Love and all that comes with it - a mixture of good and bad, happy and sad, exciting and frightening - we must be grateful for it.
Without love, where would the world be?
Love has helped the world turn.
Love has helped the world change.
Love is not just a feeling - it's an experience.
Love is not just a stop along the way - it's the destination.
Love is a journey that grows step by step, bit by bit ... only getting better.
Love isn't just between one man and one woman.
Love can be between a man and a man or a woman and woman.
Love can be between a mother and her child, or a father and his child.
Love can be between a friend and a friend.
Love can be between a brother and a sister, a sister and a sister, a sister and a brother, a brother and a brother.
There is not just one kind of love.
It comes in different forms, shapes, sizes, and kinds that we cannot even imagine to think of.
We're all too blinded by all this hate and regret and selfishness that we can't take a few seconds out of our day to say "Thank you" to that stranger who holds open your door or to your friend who picks up your pen. We can't say it to our mom who cooks our dinner and our dad who drives us to school. We can't smile back at the stranger who smiled or help an old woman carry her groceries out to her car. We can't call up an old friend and ask them to hang out for a few hours just to catch up. We can't see past the shadows, mistakes, flaws and imperfections of others and we judge them on their past. We can't go a day without having to talk about another person. Why not?
Hate is taking over. And we all have choices. We have the other options.
The Way I See It:
Hate is easy.
Love takes courage.
"Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused with love, but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain and makes someone feel wonderful again. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt."
Oh, I've been travelling on this road too long
Just trying to find my way back home
But all of me is dead and gone, dead and gone
I don't know why people think there isn't any way to change.
As if they never will have and never have had a choice.
But there is always a choice.
I'm trying not to judge based on what has happened in the past,
because I know for a fact that people can change.
It's possible - I've seen it firsthand, and so have you.
Barack Obama ring a bell? That's extreme change.
I went from being vulnerable and a follower
to being strong and a leader.
I went from caring too much about the opinion of others
to not caring at all who believes what.
Nobody can doubt me anymore because I don't care.
My family and my best friends are the only opinions I take time considering.
Me, and nothing else in the way.
Me and my family, friends and the ones I love.
Me and God, side by side.
Me, because the rest of the don't matter.
It's the only clear way of thinking for me.
Gravity is the only thing pulling me down,
but nothing else will stop me.