Diamonds glitter the brightest in the dark.

Monday night I had the unexpected pleasure of seeing Shara Worden in concert. The ticket came to me by default. A dear friend who goes to a lot of concerts had posted on her facebook page Sunday night that she had a free ticket to the show for the first taker. I hadn't seen this friend in some time, so while I wasn't exactly sure of my desire to see the diamond, I jumped at the chance to hang out with Meg Dear. My fingers flew over the face of my ipod as I hurriedly typed "Uk me!" (instead of "um, me!"). I waited anxiously to see if my response posted first. Apparently it did, as I began to receive text messages asking me if I really wanted to go, and could I do dinner first. I did, and yes, I wanted dinner first.

Monday afternoon found me trying to put an earring through the one ear lobe that stubbornly closes up after not wearing earrings for months. Go figure. I looked at the clock as I pushed the wire through the tough skin and heard it pop. Success. I looked in the mirror and resigned myself to my appearance. I had make up on, had even applied lipstick and my hair was relatively smooth. After fueling the car I truly was on my way to G.R.

Meg seemed a little flustered when I got to her apartment. I was five minutes late, but her discovery that the restaurant she'd planned on taking me to was closed on Monday's had more to do with her state of distraction. She asked unenthusiastically if I liked Thai food. I responded affirmatively and soon we were seated and I was ordering something with cashews. When the waitress raised her eyebrow at my response of "medium" to her query of how hot I wanted my spice, Meg interjected that she usually ordered hers mild. I like spice, so I compromised and asked for mild plus. The waitress seemed skeptical, but you know, the customer is always right. I think I could have handled the medium. Truly. It was good food, but as previously stated; I like spice.

As I surrendered the golden ticket, I quickly surmised that I was not to be the oldest attender. This made me happy. There were loud people at the concert venue. They were distracting to Meg and I as we tried to converse quietly in our seats prior to the show. I wonder if I ever try to invite people into my life by talking loudly. I don't think I do, but perhaps there are times when I inadvertently draw attention to myself by being overly animated. I like to think I save such times of animation for private venues such as my home or those of close friends, where our raucous laughter and joking doesn't cause others to wish they were us. Not that I was desiring to be others while waiting for the show to start. Laughter seemed self-conscious and awkward. These public displays made me feel uncomfortable and embarrassed for the individuals, and then I felt small and mean for judging them.

The lights dimmed, and the opening act began. DM Stith made me think of Drew, only this guy lulled me to sleep. He was an amazing musician but his melodies were overly soothing to my 47 year old brain, and I felt like the narcoleptic my dear Joe is. I was afraid I was going to jolt noticeably awake by hitting my head on the theater seat in front of me.

The break between sets had me a bit concerned that the whole evening was going to consist of me trying to stay awake through a shoe gaze worthy concert of songs. The headliner came out with a kabuki mask in place. I looked sideways at Meg who knows how easily I creep out at artiistic drama that St. Vincent and Bjork dole out. She reassured me, "It'll be okay." I reluctantly turned my attention back to the brightly garbed woman in the creepy mask. Soon I was transfixed. Shara was charasmatic; funny, talented moving from the guitar to finger piano, and her vocals were sensual. She could dance in a way that made me think of tribal fires and my daughter. I forgot myself and my initial trepidation. I laughed and found myself moving in my seat. I could almost ignore the guys in front of me clapping off cadence, and yelling out advice to the guitar player. The music made me feel, young and inspired. The thoughts barreling through my skull, forced the idea of sleep far into the future. This actually was a good thing as I had a 45 minute commute home yet before me.

We exited the hall, and I excitedly texted my family that we were just finishing up at the show, with an interjection of how it easily was the best show I'd ever been to. I headed to the bathroom, and after emptying my bladder, stood at the sink washing my hands. I glanced in the mirror, and was surprised. I'd forgotten what I looked like during the time in the music hall. The makeup I'd applied earlier was smeared and worn off from tears, I'd lost one earring, and my hair was not smooth. Maybe I thought that the inspiration and energy felt had transformed me. For a moment I felt bitterly disappointed by the reality facing me in the mirror; but I smiled and determined to hold on to the feelings that the music had inspired. And then, I sparkled.