Artsarama

Yesterday I had an episode; an extremely prolonged one that lasted from the first waking minutes when I didn’t want to get out of bed until a mere matter of hours before I went to sleep, by which point I was too tired to be depressed or anxious. Despite it being the rare type of day where nothing at all went wrong, I still couldn’t shake how glum I felt. It was also the very rare day where I had nothing to be depressed about and I fucked it all up by busying myself all day to try and put my racing mind at ease but I ended up making myself numb and burnt out before shunning almost everyone entirely.

But I am happy to say that last night for a few shining hours I found comfort and joy. For a few hours I was able to lose myself in a room full of people and just simply be. I enjoyed one of life’s secret (and to some guiltiest) pleasures: the high school band concert.

My ex-girlfriend’s brother, Daniel, is in his final year of high school, thusly ending his tuba playing career. Over the course of the school year Daniel’s band only have two proper shows outside of competitions: a Christmas concert and the end of the year Artsarama shindig in the high school gym. I quit my high school band well before my senior year, but for the thirty or so students recognized for their achievements before their impending graduation I can imagine it felt a lot like how a student athlete feels at the end of their final game senior year. They truly loved what they did to stick with it for so long and they would probably never feel that way again.

I knew I was going to attend regardless of my mood or how awkward I still feel sometimes around Jenna’s family. Her father was going to be attending as well, making it the first time I had seen him since I broke up with his daughter. I wasn’t afraid he was going to chew me out in public or punch me in the face; he seems far too relaxed to become physically violent over something everyone is essentially trying to move past. I was mostly afraid of the potential for awkwardness and its accompanying silence, but as I said earlier, it was a good day where nothing even remotely off putting happened with the exception of a brownie-like abomination of a baked good that I ate during the show’s intermission that was 70% flour, 25% grease, and 5% miscellany.

Artsarama hadn’t changed all that much in the years since Jenna’s graduation. The individual letters on the wall behind the band were the same ones she had cut by hand years prior. There were technically 9 musical acts performing; ranging in age from a children’s choir with boundless energy that turned in a sweet and well sung rendition of “Hey Jude” to the various different sects of the high school band and choir. In addition to playing tuba, Dan decided to join the choir in his final year. On top of his musical double duty, he also remained after school to help set up for the concert and seemingly followed in the footsteps of his big sister.

Minus the brownie, the slightly annoying logjam of people trying to cram into the hallways during intermission, the brief power outage that the band managed to play through without missing a single note, and the ungodly awful version of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” delivered by the least enthusiastic junior high school choir I had ever seen, the show was a great success.

I doubt anyone other than Jenna noticed that I was out of sorts, and even if she did she was kind enough not to bring it up in public. If we had time to talk privately later in the evening she probably would have asked how I was feeling. The doldrums really didn’t begin to lift until after the intermission.

Daniel always had a slight flare for the dramatic; especially when it came to concerts. Last year during the closing number, which is the same thing every year, Dan danced around with his tuba in the back. This year along with the help of some friends he took it to another level. First, in the middle of “YMCA”, Daniel became the native from the Village People with the rest of the tubas making up the remainder of the 70s disco fiends. The conductor, Mr. Sharpe, honestly did not see that one coming. And later, he contributed one final moment to cement his legacy in the annals of Clarke High School music history. Dan in the one in the white fedora:

It was a moment of pure unbridled joy. No matter how rotten of a mood you might be in, once you see a friend lead a dance along of small children, you just can’t stay upset.

It has been the high point of my week thus far.