Day 28: Dying in LA – Panic! at the Disco
How do you define popularity? It’s kind of a rhetorical question because popularity means different things for different people. When I was in high school, the popular girls were the ones who played sports and had effortless hair and makeup every single day. They were the ones who didn’t embarrass themselves on the reg (like, say, me.) When I was in college, the popularity meter seemed to change from that to a “crunchy granola” girl: a girl who seemed entirely authentic but also extremely charming and charismatic.
Whatever “popularity” is, it’s pretty vapid and fleeting. That’s why there are jokes about peaking in high school. I definitely did not peak in high school. I hope I haven’t peaked yet, and I hope I don’t chase after what’s popular just for the sake of popularity. But sometimes we fall into that trap.
Kind of like what happens when you move to LA.
What I’ve heard about LA is that it can be a soul-sucking place if you’re not careful. Most people go out there in search of fame. They want to “make it.” They fall in love with the illusion that living in LA means they’ll get everything they want and more. Brendan Urie tells this story in an understated, solemn ballad.
The moment you arrived
They built you up
The sun was in your eyes
You couldn’t believe it
Riches all around, you’re walking
Stars are on the ground
You start to believe it
When the sun is in your eyes, it’s hard to see where you’re going, and if you’re guided by the stars along Hollywood Boulevard, you might go astray.
Every face along the boulevard
is a dreamer just like you
You looked at death in a Tarot card
and you saw what you had to do
But nobody knows you now
When you’re dying in LA
And nobody owes you now
When you’re dying in LA
The power, the power, the power
Of LA
All of us want to make something of our lives. We want to start new chapters and go new places and exit this life having done something. That’s usually what drives people to seek fame. They don’t want to be forgotten. But dreams can die quickly, as Urie is saying. LA is a vapid place, and the people who adore you one day are the people who ignore you the next.
Nights at the chateau, trapped in your sunset bungalow
You couldn’t escape it
Drink of paradise, they told you put your blood on ice
You’re not gonna make it
LA is a city full of dreamers, but a lot of people don’t end up “making” it. Most people tend to paint a bleak picture of LA (or maybe a stereotypical one.)
I sang this song for an audition and didn’t make it into the production. On a very small level, I know what it feels like not to “make it,” especially when you have big dreams and goals for yourself. You just have to ask yourself if it’s worth it to risk everything for what you want.
Amie – Damien Rice
It’s frustrating when things just go around and around in circles when we’re hoping for a change. Sound familiar? The collective global population has been stuck in this rut for a while now, and it seems like we’re stuck in a cycle of bad news and scary data. We are waiting for something to change, something to give. Damien Rice talks about this feeling in “Amie,” specifically with a girl he’s been going round and round in circles with (maybe her name is Amie, but “amie” is also the French word for “friend.”)
Nothing unusual, nothing strange
Close to nothing at all
The same old scenario, the same old rain
And there’s no explosions here
Right now, it seems like we’re all waiting for a breakthrough that just might not happen. Things will probably go back to normal slowly, and we might not even realize it. Or we’ll never get back to normal as we know it. It’s frustrating, just like it’s frustrating to go around in circles with someone you are interested in.
Amie, come sit on my wall
And read me the story of O
Tell it like you still believe
That the end of the century
Brings a change for you and me
Damien Rice wrote this song in 1998, on the verge of a new century. He hoped the 21st Century would bring out changes in people–something extraordinary. But 22 years later, have we changed at all? We’re all a little older, but people still follow the same patterns, as Rice points out:
But I’m not a miracle
And you’re not a saint
Just another soldier
On the road to nowhere
Audrey D. DeBoer 