The Katy Perry California Dreams Adventure!

(Yes, I suck at coming up with blog titles.)
I think it's really funny, and amazingly awesome, that we got to see The Band Perry and Katy Perry in the same year. Of course, the circumstances both times were considerably different, not to mention their styles of music couldn't differ more. Also, Katy Perry isn't really her name, but I read she's actually Katy Hudson. Still, it's fun to think about this and muse about how amazingly lucky I am.
I've decided never to doubt anything my mom ever says...again. She said we were going to see Katy Perry, but since we were in Peru at the time I thought all the tickets would be sold out by the time we got home. That was not the case. There were still decent seats available, and I could see the whole stage perfectly well. My mom makes things happen. I'm not sure how she does it. She's just awesome, that's all I know.
The concert was well-choreographed and basically a work of art. There were so many costumes and for each song it was different. It followed the Alice in Wonderland/Candyland theme--I think there was almost a little bit of Cinderella in there, too. On the screen between songs they played bits of this movie where she's in costume and she walks around this really cool land made of candy, searching for her Kitty, and having adventures. It reminded me of the Taylor Swift concert I saw a couple of years ago, where for each song she had a different set, and it was simply magnificent. I'll share photos from that later.
My favorite song she played in this concert was E.T. because you could feel the beat here more than in any of the other tracks. There were green and blue lasers reaching wide over the crowd, making you feel like you were in a science fiction movie. I wish I'd been able to get a good picture of that, but I was too busy singing along, so that's fine. I was enjoying myself and if I'd spent the whole concert taking pictures, then I would have missed the whole thing--and that wouldn't be much fun at all.

This really was an adventure. It was almost perilous. Here's the suspenseful summary of how it was action-packed and nerve-racking at first:
I went with my mom, dad, and my brother. I had the greatest time with them. I had quite an adventure trying to get four bottles of water to them. For some reason the guys at the food place just had to take the caps off the bottles, so... Picture Mariella stumbling through a crowded arena and trying to figure out how to get back into the row where her family is sitting, that is really narrow and where it's easy to fall down.
Well, there were some kind people who helped me pass down the bottles of water to my family. They said, "Need us to help you pass something down, sweetheart?" Probably because they saw me looking so pathetic with the four bottled waters calling to my family who couldn't hear me because of the music going on at the moment. So we called until my parents looked up and received the bottles of water--and then I finally went back to my seat, the chances of falling and dying having been slimmed. But I wasn't going to be able to last the whole concert without any water. We'd gone up three flights of stairs and my tongue literally felt like paper. How was I ever going to sing along if my tongue felt like paper?!
Aside from that, I wore some nice ballet flats that I thought would look good with my sequined shirt, but I forgot that for something like a concert ballet flats are not the most comfortable kind of shoes to wear. Next time Katy Perry comes I think I could get away with wearing fluffy bunny slippers! ♥ It would fit the theme and I think that if I dress up in my pajamas I might be able to make the Meet-and-Greet. I will start shopping for the perfect bunny slippers now.

Yesterday was, in fact, my brother Christian's 14th birthday. This concert was his birthday present. I think we all had fun and I'm glad he had a nice birthday. I know I enjoyed myself as well. It was an adventure.
Thank you so much, Mom, for proving me wrong. I'm never going to doubt you again.
(Honestly. My mom does amazing and crazy things! I want to be like her!)

I have a friend. She's been in a dusty closet for several months now...

Cecelia.

Her name is Cecelia.She doesn't talk--not really. I mean, unless you know how to understand the language of music, then you can say that she talks a lot.She's named for the patroness of music, St. Cecilia, who also happens to be my patron saint (Cecilia is my middle name) and of whom I have a relic medal--one of the few I think even exist. There are many reasons why I have a devotion to St. Cecilia, but music wasn't always one of them.
Her story is truly a remarkable one:

It is believed that St. Cecilia was born in the 2nd or 3d century A.D., although the dates of her birth and martyrdom are unknown. A religious romance telling the love story of Saint Cecilia and Valerian appeared in Greece during the 4th century A.D., and there is a biography of St Cecilia dating from the 5th century A.D. She is purported to have been the daughter of a wealthy Roman family, a Christian from birth, who was promised in marriage to a pagan named Valerian. Cecilia, however, had vowed her virginity to God, and wore sackcloth, fasted and prayed in hopes of keeping this promise. Saint Cecilia disclosed her wishes to her husband on their wedding night. She told Valerian that an angel watched over her to guard her purity. He wanted to see the angel, so St. Cecilia sent him to Pope Urban(223-230). Accounts of how and when Valerian saw the angel vary, but one states that he was baptized by the Pope, and, upon his return to Saint Cecilia, they were both given heavenly crowns by an angel. Another version recounts that Tibertius, Valerian's brother, sees the crowns and he too is converted.

Saint Cecilia

This isn't some sentimental blog post about how I'm a natural born musician and music is my passion and I spend so many hours a day mastering a new song that I wrote. This isn't even a blog post about me being really good at music, because I'm not. Quite frankly, I fail at music. I rarely practice and I'm better at composing things than reading notes for songs that already exist. I have little patience for sharps and flats on the piano and most of the time I just play ignoring them, thus messing up the song, and I have no idea what level I am at the piano even though supposedly I've been 'playing' for a few years now and should be at least okay at it.
But tonight...
Cecelia the guitar was a present for my 16th birthday. I'm not really sure why I wanted a guitar because back then I couldn't imagine the thrill of plucking a string and feeling the sound vibrate inside of you. I guess...well, I don't know. I just wanted a guitar. So that's what I got. 
And I've used her on and off to play a few songs I like, mostly Taylor Swift (there was a time that I'd mastered the intro to White Horse but I'm sure I've forgotten it by now. It was a very tentative mastery and right after that is when I had to leave Cecelia to go to Peru.) I tried to learn Miranda Lambert but that was a little too hard. My teacher was youtube, and I had nobody to really assess how I learned and what progress I made, or tell me how I had to improve.
We left to Peru on February because of my Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. I had to put Cecelia away. Even though I was never really big on playing music, I felt my heart recoil into itself as I eased her into the guitar case and whispered, "Just for now. See you soon." And I put her in the closet, where she's waited about four months for me to come back.
I've been here for a month but while settling in, had little time to play music. Tonight's when I finally felt done with waiting. I've got a cough, some kind of allergic asthma that I hope will go away when the summer's over. The Band Perry, my new favorites to listen to, made me want to sing. I listened to their beautiful song, Walk Me Down The Middle, and wished so badly that I could sing along. But every time I open my mouth to make a sound, I cough. I can't sing. I needed to make music tonight, though, needed it as badly as I normally have to write.
I could have used the piano, but then I remembered that I still had a friend waiting for me in the closet. So I got Cecelia out.
You know how sometimes you wish there was a soundtrack to your life? Well, as I eased Cecelia out of the guitar case, hearing the sounds of the strings vibrating as they collided with the plastic that confined her for so long, I promise you there was music playing. A soundtrack. And it's something that I could never imagine--the anticipation, the satisfaction, the immense joy that I was getting her out again. I was seeing her again. She wasn't angry, either. She was ready to play music, just like me.
The guitar is probably out of tune--I was never too good at tuning her. I sat down and played, anyway. I played with the capo, putting it on different frets and just plucking strings. Then, when the capo was on the third fret, I plucked out something that almost sounded like a song. And it was pretty. Like I said, the guitar is probably out of tune, but I was actually playing something that sounded like a song and a pretty one. I played the tune over and over.
Since I've no idea how to record guitar notes on sheet music, my only way to not lose the song was recording it. I got out my iPhone and used the Voice Memo app. I set it on a table nearby and talked to the phone and played and wrote a song.
I could share that thing I recorded on here but since the guitar is probably out of tune...I dunno. I'll consider it.
GOD is doing it. He's making me feel like I can do anything. I can write a song. I can run a blog. I can write a book and get it to the top 5 and eventually publish it. I can change opinions with my stories. I can be a good friend and someone that others will look up to, regardless of my weaknesses. I can make a difference.
And I can do anything. I know it. He wants me to say it.
I'm probably not going to start a band or write an album that will top the charts (maybe. Just because I'm not planning on it doesn't mean GOD isn't. I've learned better than to try and map my own life.) But I have art, I have Truth, and even though my hands hurt--even though I hate bedtime because of sleeping with the wrist braces on, and sometimes I can't open a can of soda, and sometimes I wonder if I can truly carry out all these things I'm planning for myself if I can't even write a book as fast as I used to--He keeps sending me things that He wants written.
He wants me to write things.He wants me to say things.He wants me to play the guitar and piano even though I don't follow the rules and I'm bad at it.So I will, and I'll learn to just trust in the LORD because He wouldn't be sending me these things if He didn't know what He was doing. And He's not going to harm me. And everything that happens to me is for my own good.
I need to shut up, stop whining, and just trust.
You know? Lately He's been revealing to me a lot on the subject of love. Not romantic love, but the love we have in our nature. I'll be sharing this as I go. It's liberating.
He has plans for me, even though I can't see them, and I don't believe I can do much with hands that are already hurting after just a blog post. Even though I need sharpening every time I make a difference in this world, because I'm just a really blunt tool. Even though I tend to be narrow-minded and paranoid and way too shy.
Kari Jobe is one of the people who inspire me most. Today on Facebook, she said in a status update:
Sometimes the key to trusting is to just trust.
I want to be like Kari Jobe with my writing. Her album is a blessing and for a long time I listened to it as a lullaby before bed. It was like falling asleep to a prayer. I've yet to find music as beautiful as hers, and I just want her to release a new album already. I want to meet her. I want to ask her so many questions. I want to hear her perform My Beloved live.
Listen to her album. Follow her on Facebook. She deserves more attention, and everyone should feel the blessing of her music.
How do I be like her with writing? How do I use writing in such a gorgeous way to glorify a GOD so beautiful? All my plots I come up with--even the 'religious' ones--fail. They're like matches that are put out by a gust of wind.
I'll just trust. That's what I'll do. If I leave my gifts to GOD, He'll help me.
But prayers would be appreciated. It's easier to say I'll trust, than it is to actually do it...because I'm still human.
Thanks, my friends. ♥

My Memoir On Meeting The Band Perry On My Way Home From Peru

A photo of what happened after I got some courage
and went to say hi to them in the airport.

So. I knew the day I flew back home after so long would be amazing, but I didn't think it would be this amazing. I've already drafted a huge, long blog post about this but it's practically a short story so I'll try to tell about what happened on June 16 in a manner that's not boring and not rambling...otherwise it'll take up the entire blog.

At the Denver airport, I saw some people that looked vaguely familiar but I figured that I was so tired after the two long flights that I was seeing things. I hate the Denver airport. It's so huge and frustrating. There couldn't be people here, among all the strangers that were walking past, that I knew or had even heard about before in my life. Yet, I looked at these people again; I couldn't help it. Then it occurred to me where I must have seen them before--who it was that they reminded me of so strongly.

"No," I thought, turning away in disbelief. "I'm definitely hallucinating. It can't be them."

But my imagination always gets the best of me, so it wouldn't let me forget. Once we boarded the plane, I grabbed my backpack and--ignoring exclamations from my mother and brother asking what I was doing--I dug out my iPod. I only had one picture to judge off of at that very moment, and it was the album art in my iPod.

The EP I checked to make sure it was them.

(The one I looked at in the airplane was the EP that I am showing right here.)

And I studied it. And glanced up at the three people (but couldn't see them well because they were several rows ahead of us.) And showed the iPod to my mom and brother and told them my suspicions. It was my mom who told me that the people were pretty clearly The Band Perry.

"They look exactly alike!" she told me with total certainty. "They even have the same hairstyles!"

What followed was the most agonizing plane ride of my life. I tried to think about whether I ought to go speak to them or not. What if I really was hallucinating and they weren't The Band Perry? What if I went and asked and I totally made a fool out of myself and wasted their time?

Somehow I dozed off and when I started awake again, my mind was made up. I would ask. The worst that could happen was these people saying "No, we're not The Band Perry." It wouldn't hurt to ask. And if the need came, I'd add, "But you look so much like them! It's so cool!" So that it sounded like a compliment and not me mistaking them for someone famous and upsetting them. All that was left to do was calculate what I would do when the plane landed--I had to get off the plane as fast as possible to catch them before they left.

So I did. I raced off the plane, certain that I would be totally unlucky and they'd be gone by the time I got out of the tunnel thing.

But they were right there. Standing right in front of me. Then I struggled against that "Don't bother them. Just keep walking" feeling. But I ignored it.

From left to right:
My dad, Neil, my mom, Kimberly, me, my brother, Reid.

I walked up to them and said, "Hi."

"Hi!" Kimberly replied, and it encouraged me.

So I said, a little enthusiastically, "You look like The Band Perry!"

At this point I was so giddy that I believe what happened next is either a little more blurry than my tentative "Hi," or it could be the clearest memory I have from that encounter. Reid smiled and replied with something along the lines of, "That's because we are The Band Perry!"

Whether he said precisely those words or not, it's one of the best moments of my life--because it was the moment I realized something totally impossible was happening. To me. I was meeting someone amazingly awesome like them in an airport. I had been in a plane with them!

Then, what happened next was even more insane. My mom always manages to pull off the most amazing things. She talked to Kimberly and made it so that we got free concert tickets, and Meet-and-Greet passes. If I'd done this alone, all I would walk away with was a picture and an autograph; but my mom was there, so she made the amazing experience last even longer.

I'm not sure how she does these things, but I'm sure lucky to have her as my mom.

We met The Band Perry a second time at the Meet-and-Greet and saw the concert. I heard Luke Bryan and now have a new favorite artist--he was amazing as well. It was a great night and the best welcome home I could ask for. I remember that day and know that my life is good. It's amazing. The best things happen to me and my family, and this is one of those things that will stand out.

Even now, a few days later, I can't believe it happened. It must be some sort of dream. But just in case, I tagged their official fan page on the pictures I have up on Facebook. Maybe they'll see the pictures and remember us, because I'm certainly never going to forget that day!