I went to a Catholic school for eight years.  Shocking, I know.

Anyway, the social scene around Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary circa 1995 revolved heavily around roller skating parties.  This involved life out-of-plaid-uniforms and all the resulting drama.  And by “drama” I mean who asked whom to skate to Boyz II Men during partner skate and oh my God so-and-so just got her first period, like, just now, whoaaaaa!

Of course, I hyped up these events (see “Homecoming” or “That kid from the plasma center”) in my little pre-pubescent mind, and was nearly always disappointed.  But Roller Skating Party = LIFE.  And one particular night, I was -gasp- UNABLE to attend one, due to one of my many activities — it was probably dance-related, I’m sure. I begged my mother to let me skip dance, please-please-please-I-will-miss-everything-that-is-determinant-to-the-future-of-my-LIFE-why-would-you-ruin-my-LIFE-like-this????!?!  Mom stood firm.  Out came the Lessons: Discipline.  Commitment. I cried and resented her like only a twelve year old girl can. (I always wanted a daughter, but looking back to my adolescence, we were all bitches.  Every last one of us.  Spoiled bitches.) I went to dance class.  The next day, I was bombarded with all the stories of middle school grandeur that I had missed.

“_____ held _____’s HAND!”

“You didn’t miss anything……NOT! Hahahahahahaa….”

“It was so rad, they played that song from Free Willy!”

And thus, I resented my mom more [Freudian!], even though she had coerced me into having made the “right” choice.

I came to this crossroad today.

You see, Coldplay played in Noblesville last night.  I had two tickets, but no one could come with me.  No problem, I thought. I’ll just hook up with some people I know who are going.

And then Fate was like, “Fuck no, you won’t.” Turns out I was scheduled to close at Best Buy Friday.

Little Angel on my shoulder (Mom’s voice): You just got promoted to full-time status in a new department. If you ask for time off in your first week, that looks really bad.

Little Devil on my shoulder (My inner child, age 12): Fuck that.  Rock out. Maybe they’ll play that song from Free Willy.

….

………

I sold the tickets.

Mmm-hmmm.  And it hadn’t crossed my mind until very early Friday, when the morning show DJ told me he was interviewing Coldplay. And I woke up this morning, thinking about it: “Did it rain? Was it unbearably hot? What could have made this experience absolutely miserable so I don’t have to feel so bad about missing it?”   And then just now, a listener called in:

“I attended the BEST concert of my LIFE last night.  Will you play Spies?”

((Just for that…No.))

Due to the concert, I had also passed on Jess’s Mackinac Island trip, somethine we’ve done for the past two years. As a result of Discipline and Commitment, I have opted for:

– No Coldplay (including tailgating and jumbo beers)

– No Mackinac Island  (including quality best-friend time and 24-7 consumption of fudge)

These aforementioned things have been replaced with:

– Best Buy (”Do you have the Nick Carter CD?”)

– WTTS (”Can you play *insert obscure artist that we would never dream of playing*”)

I think Ben Folds sang it best:

Everybody knows/

it sucks to grow up/

but everybody does/

so weird to be back here/

Let me tell you what/

the years go by

/and we’re still fighting it/

we’re still fighting it

I hate this.