Tag: Entertainment

May These Memories Break Our Fall

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years, sometimes you gotta say ‘What the fuck,’ make your move.” ~Risky Business

On the 2nd of January, I said “What the fuck, make your move” and clicked Purchase on two resale seats for an Amsterdam date on Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour. Buying resale concert tickets can be risky business, indeed, but missing this record-breaking concert event would be something I would regret, I told myself. I have grown to loathe feeling regret and avoid it when possible. So, I sold my soul to the demon I despise and paid StubHub a ludicrous sum, rationalizing I had no other choice. It was a personal imperative. For the past few years, Taylor Swift had been propping me up as I dealt with a lot of real life shit. The Tortured Poets Department became the final rung on my climb to catharsis. This concert was going to be a full-circle moment in part of my life’s journey, the launching pad for the next phase of my life.

In the months leading up to our tour date, we told our dirty little secret only to a select few because you never know if you’re actually getting inside a concert with a second-hand ticket. As I stood at our kitchen island making friendship bracelets and changing my mind umpteen times about which era I would choose for my concert attire, in the back of my mind the nagging thought we might not gain entrance at all swirled. I made my peace with the notion of listening to what we could hear from outside Johan Cruijff Arena and being grateful to be part of the tour in whatever small way we could, all while quietly reassuring myself seeing this concert live was a destiny that would be fulfilled.

At 5:30 pm on July 5th, wearing a black skirt, a “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me” sequined t-shirt, and rhinestone sneakers, I crossed my fingers, scanned my ticket, and pushed through the turnstiles of Ajax Arena. Steve and I seeped into a throng of Swifties inside. I breathed a deep sigh of relief and looked around. It was perhaps the most gentle and respectful crowd that arena has yet seen, fans politely inching past each other towards their designated spots. I’d chosen seats in the lower part of the upper deck close to the midpoint of Taylor’s massive stage. On one side of us were the New York City Gen Z’s from whom I’d bought our tickets and on the other side was a Belgian couple in their forties with their two teenage daughters. We exchanged some bracelets and easy conversation. Paramore, the opening act for the European leg of the tour, did their best to work the stage and warm us up for Taylor, but not a being in the place needed warming for Taylor. We were ready for it.

The clock appeared on the massive screen that ran the length of the stage. When it hit 13, the crowd began counting down aloud. I got goosebumps. The dancers appeared with their pastel parachutes undulating like flower petals in a breeze until they eventually settled into their spots, bent down, and allowed the fabric to carpet the floor. When the dancers stood again and revealed Taylor among them like Venus in the shell in Botticelli’s famous painting, the crowd roared. I teared up. I told myself I wouldn’t cry, but I was really there. This was really happening. I took a minute to survey the arena. Fifty-five thousand Swifties in all their Eras glory, singing along to “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince.” I was enchanted. “Here we go,” I told myself as I settled in for the three-plus story hours of love, heartbreak, drama, revenge, and redemption. I reveled in every minute of the show, taking care to be present by limiting my desire to record the moments on my phone. When the crowd began jumping to “You Belong With Me,” you bet your ass I jumped too. Well rehearsed, I shouted along during the fan participation parts, yelling “one, two, three, let’s go, bitch” during a break in the intro to “Delicate” and inserting my triple claps in “Shake It Off.” When Taylor got to the acoustic set, I allowed myself a moment to record the crowd. I said, “Remember this moment” in the back of my mind. And when she’d reached her last song and the band played the first notes of “Karma,” I gave up and let the emotion roll over me. The night had been timeless, but it caught up and it was time to grab our souvenir merch and head to the exit. So I closed the chapter on this era and stepped outside and into my next era.

Eras Tour Stage
Lover
Make the friendship bracelets
You Weren't Mine To Lose
Smallest Man Who Ever Lived
I can do it with a broken heart
The kingdom lights shined
Karma

It’s been 27 days since our Amsterdam concert, and I’ve been struggling for all 27 of those days trying to decide what to write about it in this post. The Eras tour has a film. When it wraps, it will have been seen in person by a staggering 10 million people, give or take. It has been reviewed innumerable times and myriad ways by Swifties, celebrities, bloggers, and publications. YouTube has countless videos of the show. Taylor Swift made the cover of Time with her ragdoll cat, Benjamin Button because of this tour. There is little I can say about it to add to what already exists in the world. There is no way to encapsulate the experience of standing among tens of thousands of fellow fans, belting out every word to every song, and vibing with strangers you’ll never meet whom you know somehow understand a part of you even some of your closest friends don’t get. It was worth every penny we spent, and I’d spend them all again. Taylor’s Eras Tour story will end in Vancouver on December 8th, and I will forever be grateful that as a middle aged, relatively new Swiftie I decided to ignore the haters and give myself the opportunity to be part of it. Life’s short, people. So, as Taylor says, “Make the friendship bracelets. Take the moment and taste it. You’ve got no reason to be afraid.” After all, taking a risk is only risky business until it pays off.

“Hold on to spinning around, confetti falls to the ground, may these memories break our fall.” ~Taylor Swift

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Taylor Swift’s Positive Lesson In Negative Experiences

I’ve spent the past two and a half weeks absorbing Taylor Swift’s latest album, The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology. With 31 tracks, it’s been a full-time job. One song, in particular, I cannot stop thinking about because of how true it feels for my life as well. thanK you aIMee is about a person (or persons) in Swift’s past whose cruel behavior pushed her to her breaking point and ultimately served as a catalyst for her extraordinary success.

All that time you were throwin’ punches, I was building somethin’, and I couldn’t wait to show you it was real…I pushed each boulder up the hill, your words are still ringin’ in my head…I wrote a thousand songs that you find uncool, I built a legacy that you can’t undo, but when I count the scars there’s a moment of truth, that there wouldn’t be this if there hadn’t been you. ~Taylor Swift, thanK you aIMee

People have spent a lot of time surmising whom the song is about. The identity of the bully/bullies makes no difference to me as a listener. I simply appreciate the emotional intelligence Taylor exhibits in knowing that sometimes the people who were the worst to you and caused you the most heartbreak and stress were actually the ones who offered you the opportunity for the most auspicious growth. I suspect everyone, at one point or another, had someone whose negativity, crappy behavior, or downright bullying abuse became the catalyst for growth. In those moments of anguish, did you fold or did you find a way forward? Do you have someone who you, perhaps somewhat regrettably, owe at least a mental debt of gratitude for the pain they caused you?

I’m 15 days away from the ten year anniversary of the day I woke up and saw my life clearly for the first time. That day changed me irrevocably for the better. Yes. For a while I was reeling, spinning through anger, pain, frustration, and confusion. Then I realized I couldn’t live where I had been, so I needed to find my way forward to a new reality. I’ve been in weekly therapy since. I’m still slaying my dragons, but every single day I wake up grateful I’m no longer living unconsciously. This doesn’t mean I behave well all the time. I don’t. It’s hard to break old, deeply worn patterns. That said, I’m awake now and that is only because of one huge argument on my front porch right after our youngest’s 11th birthday party. Every single day, however, I am grateful to that person for helping me see what I had never seen before. It shook me in the best way possible. I would not go back and undo that hurtful moment for all the money in the world. No matter how much pain and work have gone into the last ten years, I’m a healthier me now for the struggles I’ve endured. Not quite out of the woods yet, but definitely better armed and more at peace.

‘Cause I’m a real tough kid, I can handle my shit, they said “Babe, you gotta fake it ’til you make it” and I did. ~Taylor Swift, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

(PS…I also have to shout out Taylor Swift for writing songs with a huge range and depth of human emotions. She’s teaching this old dog all the feels I never knew how to feel.)

Posted on by Me 2

That Time The Oscars Turned Into The Slap

I have watched the Oscars every year since Out of Africa won for Best Picture. Despite this storied history, I think my love affair with this event is over. I felt the show tonight was going well at first. I liked the amount of diversity I was seeing and was especially pleased with the lack of playing-someone-off music. I thought for a few, brief moments that we were seeing what I wished for the rest of the country, some inclusion, some empathy, some gentleness, and some unity. Then, Will Smith happened, and the Oscar broadcast suddenly felt like ABC’s The Slap.*

I know everyone and their dog, as well as the flea on their dog, is going to have an opinion of the incident between Will Smith and Chris Rock, so I will keep my four-cents (yes, 4 cents…inflation) brief. First, Chris Rock is a comedian. He cracks wise for a living. His comment referencing Jada Pinkett-Smith’s bald head was, at best, tasteless, and at worst, if he was aware of Jada’s alopecia condition, cruel and gross. That said, Will Smith’s physical assault on Rock on live television, followed by his shouting an obscenity-laced comment at him twice, was wrong on every single level I can imagine.

Let me break this down in kindergarten terms. You don’t hit other people. You. Do. Not. Hit. Other. People. Full stop. You just don’t. It’s wrong. Smith had every right in the world to be angry at Rock’s comment and to want to stand by his wife. I get that. He did not, however, have the right to haul off and hit the man. That he was allowed to remain in the theater after he physically assaulted another man in front of millions of viewers is wrong. That he received the Oscar and was allowed to stand there and talk about “love” while a crowd gave him a standing ovation is scary. That he tied his actions to Richard William’s fierce love of his family, stating that “love will make you do crazy things” was sickening. That Smith didn’t start his speech by apologizing to Rock for hitting him is a sobering example of what is wrong with this country.

I give credit to Chris Rock for being able to withstand that attack with some semblance of composure and go on to give the award for Best Documentary Feature to Questlove and friends. He handled that situation with some serious restraint.

I told my husband that while Jada may have appreciated Will’s show of misguided chivalry, I would most certainly be angry as hell if he ever “stood up for” me in that manner. (I know he knows this and I know he would never, but I said it anyway.) I can handle my own battles. I wouldn’t want anyone else speaking for me without having spoken about it with me first. I wouldn’t want anyone hitting another person in my honor. It all felt so middle school. I’m surprised we didn’t hear Will say, “Meet me behind the jungle gym at recess.” This antiquated notion that some men have, that chivalry means defending someone, needs to go. Chivalry is supporting someone. If Will had turned to Jada, asked if she was okay, asked what he could do to be there for her in that moment, and then she told him she wanted him to go defend her honor, then maybe that slap would equate to a show of support. But instead, he made it all about Will by displaying his anger and his appalling lack of situational awareness and self-restraint. Not cool.

At any rate, now that the Oscars have become The Maury Show, I’m finished. I’ll find out who won later. If next year’s Academy Awards devolve into a melee and seats get tossed around, I won’t be surprised. It seems like that is where we are headed.

*I have never watched The Slap, so I’m not really sure how it plays out, but I’m pretty sure someone gets slapped and a bunch of people have reactions about it.

Posted on by Me 2