I’m a newbie to Denton house shows

It was like the opening to a Daft Punk song, or an episode of Mad Men. We walked past people in a dimly lit hallway with dull music playing in the distance.

Finally finding our footing, and an entrance into the pulsating garage, we walked into a deafening room stuffier than the Texas summer. It was packed with people either forming a mosh pit or silently nodding their heads in the corners.

I never went to a house show in Waco. I never tried looking. But in my short time living in Denton I’ve already been to two.

It’s not a scene I normally associate myself with, nor is it the type of music I listen to. But it’s everything I wished I would have done in college, and that’s why I want to keep going.

We idealize who we were in college—I know I did. It’s that period of self discovery that we can’t seem to justify at any other point in our lives. It’s when we challenge old ideas, accept new ones, and find ourselves in strange rooms dancing with stranger people. We grasp at the image we had of ourselves when we were children

When I was 10, I expected myself to listen to the Postal Service on repeat and stock my dorm room shelves with those miniature trashcans you get at Target.

But what happens? Rather than fulfilling those childhood expectations, we shift. We change. We realize we don’t have it all figured out, and boy do we feel the growing pains.

Admittedly, I didn’t listen to the Postal Service as much as I thought I would and my dorm room was a mess—on account of the missing miniature trashcans. I would stay in on Saturdays, rarely finish my assigned reading and I can’t remember if I ever went to a Baylor football game.

But I didn’t envy those who were becoming their childhood dreams. I was doing the same in a way, but by different means: through hard conversations. Through religious revelation. Through really feeling alive while traveling, and breaking expectations.

And maybe I measured myself too much by missed opportunities rather than the growing pains. It’s like moshing in a dank garage. All is dark and tumultuous, but it’s new. And it’s good.

 

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