I told myself I wouldn't write Neon Trees any more love letters.

You know, when I started this blog, I didn't expect to have anyone really read it or to pay attention. I suppose you could stay that's still sort of the case; a twentysomething from a Detroit suburb normally shouldn't garner widespread Internet readership. In addition, I didn't have any idea for a "theme" or "topic" to write about every time I decided to post, like most blogs have. I look back on most of the things I've put here and, just like any writer, I feel embarrassed and tempted to delete everything. The entry that I'm perhaps most proud of - as well as most embarrassed about - is the one regarding Neon Trees.

Obviously, it got noticed by the lead singer, and from that point on I've maintained an odd, fan-to-famous relationship with the band by way of the Internet. Since then, I essentially told myself that I shouldn't write any more about Neon Trees, about Tyler Glenn, about their shows, etc., because I would probably just make myself look more like a creeper than anything else. They're just a band from the Southwest, they just make some music that I really like. This isn't some sort of idol worship, and if anything, I'd rather just sit over coffee and chat with them than become their unprofessional, unread, faux music journalist. It feels almost like stealing, writing about a music group for no purpose other than personal satisfaction. They deserve to be in Rolling Stone or something. Who am I?

So with all that in mind, I decided to go back to just writing about my everyday musings, mundane happenings, pangs of inspiration, and with that, probably writing for an audience of few. Nothing substantial and certainly nothing more that would pinpoint me as an oddly obsessed superfan. Blegh.

That changed last night, when I went to see Neon Trees perform in Lansing.


The affection given to you by a stranger, or even an acquaintance, can only go so far; you can receive a smile on the sidewalk, a hand when you drop your things. I find it imperative for society to care about one another in ways that are shown everyday, as I'm sure many other people do.

I will never forget what it felt like to see Aaron for the first time, alone in the sun, and to say something to him in his silence. I will never forget the woman who found my wallet in the parking lot of some grocery store in Holland, when I had no idea I had even dropped it. I will never forget the nurse who saved my life when I was born, even though I've only met her in adulthood once; equally, I will never forget the handwritten letter she sent me on my 16th birthday. I will never forget the recruit who found Mac's iPhone buried in the snow, and instead of keeping it, brought it to an office, at which a peer who I only knew in passing called my cell phone to alert me. I will never forget the English professor whom I had previously never met coming up to me after my magazine release this year and congratulating me, telling me how proud I was making the department, and that it would be a joy to ever work with me.

As for never writing Neon Trees a love letter again? I guess it doesn't really count when it's in video form.

I will never forget Tyler thanking me for my silly blog post; I will never forget his band playing my favorite song on a humid July day and actually dedicating it to me, essentially unprovoked. They're all completely normal, everyday people, and them giving attention to any fan at all shouldn't be considered "special;" but for some reason, it feels that way.

I have no makeup on, my hair is a mess, I'm not wearing my contacts. I have slightly crooked teeth and a heavy Detroit accent. The room in which I sit is my current as well as childhood room, and it's constantly a mess. On my left wrist you'll see glowsticks and a wristband which I've neglected to take off. Normally when making a video speech I'd want to actually look "good" - but this is just...me. If you know me well, you know me at my most honest, and that's how I feel about this "love letter." Honest.




(I'm tempted to point out everything I hate about this video - inflections in my voice, the number of "anyway"s, my general poor speaking- but I won't. Or I guess, I'll stop there. That's not really what matters.)
(This time, though, I promise I'll quit writing about them. At least until October. xx)

-amk.