My last observation is a personal one. As I said in the beginning of this monologue/ diatribe/ exposition, what we take from an experience largely depends on what we bring to it, so it’s likely that no two people bring away the same thing from a given event. What I brought away from the Weird Al concert, the first concert I’ve ever been too, was a bizarre sense of cleansing and rejuvenation.
I’ve been stressed lately. It’s been far too long since I felt able to truly enjoy who I am, far too long since I was able to say I liked a portion of myself without adding those mental caveats that, as a psychologist, I know are unhealthy, but as a person, I can’t seem to defeat. When I went to the concert, it was as an evening’s break from the toughest month this year, and I wasn’t sure I’d have much fun. But the evening had been planned with friends who may have been going largely because I’d expressed an interest, so I went.
And it was an amazing experience. As this was my first concert ever, I can’t say the degree to which the enjoyment came from it being a Weird Al concert, from being part of a large group and thus happily anonymous, from the thrill of watching several thousand people band together in an enjoyable activity that did not involve emotional or physical bloodshed, or just the thrill of several thousand people waving arms and cell phones. All I know is that, partway through the concert, I didn’t feel like myself anymore. I felt purely happy, as I did when I still liked myself, still felt that I could do anything I wanted to, and still felt that I could make a difference. In short, I felt that night as I’d never really felt but had always wanted to. I felt like I was the person I was supposed to be, before a bunch of unpleasant stuff happened that I'm still working through. It was an astonishing and addictive experience. Only an impending work deadline kept me from making a road trip to the city where Weird Al was next performing... my sense of responsibility is really very annoying[1].
The whole thing was rather like a new sexual relationship; feeling that you’ve made a deep connection with someone else’s soul and being driven to re-establish that sense of connection. It gives me an idea of what motivates stalkers if they have such extreme reactions to ‘just’ “feeling the warm spot on [someone’s] chair.” And yes, this is the part where I risk creeping myself out. It felt strange to have been so moved and delighted by someone I hadn’t actually met and who wouldn’t know me from a crazed stalker… assuming I’m not becoming one….
I am pretty much back to ‘normal’ now, though that sense of bliss is still a part of me. I don’t get engulfed as I did that night, but I can use it to push back the insanity when it gets overwhelming. I’ve enjoyed a few fantasies about getting to meet him, seeing how much difference there is between “Weird Al” and Al Yankovic, how he writes and how deeply he interprets his writing. And I’ve enjoyed reading past interviews and archives, exploring lyrics, and learning new songs[2]. Yes, this mild obsession is a psychological escape from a very difficult time in my life, but (thus far) it seems safe, as coping mechanisms go.
So I suppose my final observation is really more of a question, as this is a difficult topic to research in the psych journals. I’m making myself vulnerable to ridicule and mockery so that I can ask, “is this (a) a common experience for concert goers, (b) common for those seeing Weird Al live, or (c) am I much closer to the edge than previously suspected?”
Let the discussion begin, and again, no mud-slinging. I’m too busy learning the lyrics to “Christmas at Ground Zero” and choreographing “One More Minute” to clean carpets!
[1] But also a bit comforting, as it suggests I’m still on the ‘healthy’ end of the obsession continuum…!
[2] I also hope he updates “Ask Al” soon ‘cause I have that page memorized and could use new material, thanks!
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