Waiting
October 8, 2007 – 10:00 am
I was a freshman, waiting to be discovered. That's what it felt like.
I'm sure you understand. Every 19 year old thinks she's destined for
greatness and we don't have to look for it, it'll find us.
What found me was Michaela.
She was singing with a band called 'Remote Control' in an underground
club not far from campus. They played covers of old Meat Puppets, The
Clash, and English Beat. Stuff like that.
You haven't heard 'Straight to Hell' until Michaela sings it, accompanied
by a 12 string guitar and a lethargic drummer. It's torturously
beautiful. The first time I heard it I wondered if I was in the right
place.
It reeked of cloves, trendy cigarettes burning like incense between
red lips. No Goths allowed, but they let me in anyway. With my black
lips and pierced nose. Short black hair edged blue like my eyes. I had
eyes that belonged to an angel, bright and innocent and made for
lying.
I could say ...