I live in a duplex, and my neighbors have a dog. My bigger dog is very protective, and goes nuts any time they let their dog out. She also will bark when he's just at the back door. So tonight I let her out, and after a few minutes she starts barking. I rush to the back door and call her in, but my neighbor's jerk boyfriend is already outside--exciting her more--complaining about "every night at 2:30 this has gone on for the past four nights!"

What's gone on? Ten seconds of barking? Their dog must be whining at the door or something--which is clearly my fault, right? I have a horrible feeling they're going to complain to the property management company about me. I guess I'll have to start letting the dog out the front door at night.

A week ago, I was still in Los Angeles, a few hours away from going to the last North American a-ha concert. Since getting back from that trip, my activities have fallen in to several very narrow categories: working (a bit), sleeping (mostly), and a-ha obsessed things (all the rest of the time). The people around me think I'm insane, but I am totally depressed.

(Some of it is the fact that I thought I was happy before, but now I'm realizing I was just sort of content. I don't think I've ever, ever been as happy as I was while I was in New York. And even though I know I can't have that same feeling all the time, I want closer to it than I have now.)

But most of it ... most of it is the strange knowledge that there will be no more a-ha. No more albums; no more new songs to fall in love with; no new interviews or performances to watch on Youtube; no more chances to try to talk to Magne or sing with the crowd to "Living Daylights" or laugh at Morten forgetting the words or dance wildly to "Cry Wolf" or "wave goodbye" during "Manhattan Skyline". Their music has loomed so large in my life in the last six years that it's just difficult to even conceive of.

And yeah, I listen to other music ... but very few things really reach out and grab me like their music does. People keep trying to tell me they'll probably come back, bands do so-called farewell tours all the time ... but I don't think so with them. This probably sounds naive, but I don't think they'd toy with their fans like that--they know exactly how obsessive we are. I mean, I certainly hope I'm wrong--I'd be so stoked if they announced at their last concert that the reaction from all their fans changed their minds. But I doubt it, and it makes me a very sad panda. I have a strangely deep sense of loss, a lingering sadness, a hollow feeling now that the object of my adoration is fragmenting.

For months, I've been telling myself I just had to push through to the end of the semester. I thought once I did that, I'd feel relieved.

Instead, I feel so lost! Maybe I just can't let go of the school stress; maybe it's the financial crap; maybe the sense of loss over my retiring Norwegians. Maybe it's all of it. But I've spent most of the last three days hiding in my house, not knowing what to do with myself,
unable to focus.
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I shouldn't feel this broken up about a band breaking up. It's stupid. But I feel like there's going to be a hole in my life after the last concert (that I'll be able to go to) tonight.

I feel like an idiot.
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