The Daily Durvy

I’m turning in an application for the Aggie, my school’s newspaper. I want to be one of their weekly columnists.

Wish me luck!

And, if any one knows the editor, tell him you think I’m amazing. : )

At the concert, I wasn’t supposed to have my Nikon D40 with me because it had a detachable lens. I was understandably disappointed, but I didn’t want my baby taken away from me so I refrained from taking any pictures at the shows. However, I couldn’t resist getting at least one picture of Regina Spektor (she’s cool, definitely not a Fergie) because I just love her that much that I would be willing to have my camera taken away. After I did and felt all bad and rebellious, Alex pointed out that almost everyone around us was SMOKING WEED, and if they weren’t being hassled by security, then nobody was actually going to take my camera away. I gave him a Look and he let me go on feeling like a badass.

No worries, I know I’m not.

Sometimes, I feel like such a sellout. I like LOVE really horrible pop music. I was not one of the cool kids in high school because of this. I didn’t discover/listen to/like alternative, emo, or underground/”indie” music. Lately, I’ve come across a few bands that I like, and there are definitely a few I’ve always been a fan of. However, I thought and still think that Bright Eyes is, for the most part, whiney.

(I am also unable to make a Woody Allen reference, though I did pretend that Annie Hall was my favorite movie in high school because I thought it would make me look cool. It didn’t.)

Going to the festival on Saturday made me feel like a cool kid. I’m not going to lie, some of the bands were so indie that they didn’t even know who they were. And I feel like a more rounded person going to see someone that you’ve probably never heard of. It was liberating.

And as liberating as it was, I still downloaded “When I Grow Up” by the Pussycat Dolls on my iPhone on the way home. But only because it was in a movie and stuck in my head.

My sister just screamed a little in pain.

The white pick up truck in front of us on the Bay Bridge just paid our toll for us.

I’ve never felt love in quite this way before.

“If I see her there, I’m going to lose it. Like, pee my pants lose it.”

“Who? Regina Spektor?”

“No, silly. Dooce.”

“You mean we’re going to see some of the greatest artists of all time at Outside Lands Festival and you’re excited about maybe seeing your favorite writer? That you probably will not see at all because there’s going to be 5,000,000,000,000,000 people there?”

“Yes.”

“You’re crazy, Devon. Absolutely batshit.”

“I’m also cute.”

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It’s okay. You’re allowed to be jealous of me.