THE BUBBLE

Is it easier to stay within our comfort zones?

A few weeks ago, I met The Wombats.

While in one of those 'I'll never win, but eh - what the heck' mindsets, I entered an Instagram competition to win a double pass to meet them and hear their new album before everyone else in Australia. The anxiety that settled once I found out that I'd been one of the winners was deeply rooted, and it only intensified as the moment inched closer. I found myself worrying all the time. What would I say to them? What if I didn't like the album? What if the whole thing was a total scam?

Seeing them walk through the door – seeing their physical faces and bodies – confirmed that they weren't just images on the Internet, or voices in a song; a thought that rendered me practically speechless. The meet and greet edged closer, and the repressed hysteria was not receding any time soon. We did not end up getting the pleasure of a live performance, which was disappointing, but we still got the opportunity to listen to the album being played through speakers instead. When the time finally came to meet them, I shook their hands for too long, smiled like an escaped insane asylum patient and forgot my name when introducing myself to Dan, not even slightly aware how uncool I potentially appeared to be. Walking out of the building, I said to my friend (with whom I'd chosen to share my double pass), "That was strange. And amazing."

Did the night go as I had expected? Nope. At any point during the night, was I fully relaxed? Not even close. Was I totally, irrevocably, undeniably out of my comfort zone? You bet.

Sometimes, we fear the worst. We think about everything that could go wrong, everything that could go right, and everything in between. We think too much. It's almost like a bubble around our heads, encompassing all the possibilities except the ones that we least expect (and, more often than not, the ones that actually end up taking place). Perhaps it's comforting. Perhaps it's easier to expect all sorts of theories than to accept the unpredictable. Indeed – perhaps it's practical to rehearse every moment than to improvise. Somehow, though, I just don't think that's right.

The night was memorable in beautiful, subtle, unexpected ways. The venue was gorgeous – something you would see on Tumblr; somewhere, I constantly remarked, I would love to live. It was effortlessly furnished to feel like home. The Vietnamese restaurant I'd eaten dinner at with my friend was impressive. The modern windows stretched almost from the top of the wall to the bottom, and were opened to allow inside a sweet zephyr and noises from the street. The Wombats spent time answering intriguing questions from the others at the event, and even performed their short song "Tales of Girls, Boys and Marsupials" from their first album, A Guide To Love, Loss And Desperation. And listening to Glitterbug for the first time only amplified the strength of the yearning I hold for its release. 

Yes – some of my anxiety was warranted, naturally ensuing the possibility of meeting a band I love. But I shouldn't have cared about what I was going to say or think or do; I should have just done. It's easy to say, but once the bubble is broken, there are entire galaxies to explore; fields of spontaneity to run rampant through. I know there is comfort in predictability but the truth is, if everything went exactly to plan, life would just be boring. You would get what you want and be robbed of a lesson. You would never say, with a note of awe and fascination in your voice, "That was strange. And amazing." ✦

My friend and I with Murph, Dan and Tord. A night I will never forget.