I've begun recovering from the show. It usually takes me a few days to stop talking about it, to stop remembering scenes from it. But I'm okay now.

Last night I was thinking about why I fell out of the punk loop for a few years and I think I figured it out. When I was 14, I bought my first ever punk album, ...And Out Come The Wolves by Rancid. I listened to the album on repeat for a month straight. It never left my stereo. I sang every word with vigor and took every phrase to heart. Songs like "Avenues & Alleyways" became my life anthems. I truly believed that unity and strength were what was waiting for me in that scene.

I had visions of going to shows and everyone knowing everyone else. I had visions of me coming into the club and being greeted by 15 or 20 people that were staples at the shows. I thought that everyone knew everyone else and that they were all friends. I thought that the ties that were forged through the music were also forged in friendship and life. So, I came to the conclusion that this was the scene for me.

When I did go out to shows, no such events took place. I did not have people coming up to me and giving me hugs like they were long lost friends. I didn't have any of the things I envisioned. And I became sullen and disenchanted that the utopian punk society that I had envisioned was on the opposite side of the spectrum than the real punk society was.

I witnessed so many things that were present in the high school society I abhored so much. There were kids judging other kids based on what they wore. There were petty arguments that ruined great friendships. There was overdramatization of every sort. There were people being fake, trying to out do each other. These were all things I was trying to run away from. And I turned my back on the society I had hated only to find one just like it.

So I turned away from that one. I lost interest in the shows and I forgot all the anthems I had held so dearly. I thought I had moved on in my life, become what I really was, not some punk version of who I was trying to be.

But then I began thinking. And I began listening to the music again. I began holding those ideals, the same ideals that my punk heros had sung about, close to my heart again. And after much deliberation, I came to this conclusion:

Of course the real life punk scene paled in comparison to the one I'd imagined. What I had imagined was a utopian society that was impossible to create. I'd envisioned a society without prejudice, without anger, without hate, and especially without sadness. I'd envisioned universal acceptance without any effort. You'd walk into a room and suddenly everyone loved you. But that's just not plausible. It's not real. In real life, no matter how "punk" you are, bad things happen. Stupid actions are taken. People die and they hate and they judge, and they get depressed. They say things without thinking and not everyone has the same views. Not everyone is going to love you right off the bat. You have to make friends; they aren't just given to you. And you have to work to make your life better; it isn't served to you on a silver platter.

So I had to make a choice. Accept the punk scene for what it was, faults and all, or deny all that I was feeling inside. Deny the aching I had in the pit of my heart to feel that excitement, that anticipation that I had felt in the years before. And when it came down to that, it was an easy choice. I had to begin to accept the fact that life is life, no matter what music you listen to. Life is life, and bad things happen, and people get angry, and relationships break down, and it isn't all a bed of roses. But what I finally realized was, life is life, but that music makes it a little easier for me to deal with. And I was willing to accept that society, with its faults, rather than live with that little voice inside of me crying out to hear the songs.