After a rather bleak show a few weeks back, the other members of My Messenger and I stood in silent contemplation outside the venue. “That was bad,” said guitarist Steve, “but not the worst show ever.” I agreed. All I had to do was look across the street to see the site of one of my worst shows ever: the El Cortez.

The last two weeks have been quite different. Ever since that first column came out, I’ve been hounded by the college newspaper paparazzi, not to mention all the girls that swarm me every time I leave my house.

It’s bizarre to think about. In the time I’ve been at the University of Nevada, Reno, I’ve gone from playing shows at places like the Reno Jazz Club, Tonic and even one terrible, terrible show at the El Cortez, to playing guitar at the Van’s Warped Tour this summer.