Reverent Clairvoyance

   Gerard Way came to Philly this weekend and I got to go to the show. He is pretty much my idol; I really look up to that baby-faced 37-year-old. But the thing is, I was more excited in the hours leading up to the show than I was when I was in that beloved pit being shoved around and waving my arms and grabbing the shirts of strangers so that I didn't fall down. (That wasn't sarcasm in the word "beloved" used in the prior sentence. I really do like that violent and powerful exhibition of anger and affection.)
   Instead of being filled with that starstruck ecstasy that I was expecting when he took the stage, maybe about twenty minutes in I felt kind of disgusted. Not with Mr. Way, of course. He was absolutely radiant with his orange hair and super sweaty alienation suit. I was disgusted with myself. When I listen to his music, or anybody's music for that matter, I genuinely enjoy it. His music especially fills me with the most intense urge to create and write and bring something important into this world. Since the moment I first heard it, it's made me feel that way. But in that crowd it wasn't about the music for me, and I don't think I was the only one. When I was there in the crowd I was consumed by the need for any little fleck of his attention, so I could go home and say he made eye contact with me or that he pointed to me singing the lyrics or brought me onstage or something. I felt a very high level of disappointment in myself; I mentally threw myself under the bus. But a very strange change came over me.
   I stopped smiling so much unless he was looking in my direction (because I didn't want him to think I wasn't enjoying the show or something). I didn't move so much. I didn't sing so much. As much as I could, I just watched him. I wanted to see if I could glimpse that something special, and I wanted to really send some mental rays of respect his way, because that guy is a true performer.
   It was in that crowd that I really realized what I wanted to be, and what I wanted to do. I want to spend the rest of my life creating. I want to glance at some chick and catch her waves of reverence and clarify her dreams. There was always that nagging feeling of doubt I felt gnawing at my stomach whenever I told somebody that I want to be a musician when I grow up, it was a doubt that asked, "Can you really see yourself doing that forever? Is that really what you want? Will that really make you happy?" I got my answer on Friday night. I want what he has more than anything else in the world. I want to make music and provoke people and bring them hope and make them think beyond themselves.
   Before I sign off I want to add one more thing: Mr. Way said something onstage that I will never forget. He made a pretty compelling little speech about the women's rights movement, which was really inspiring, but it's what he said about control that really made an impression on me. I can't quite recite it vebatim, but it was along the lines of this, "It's all about control; people who want it, people who take it, and people who give it away, and don't ever give control away for free." That stuck with me, and it will stick with me for a long time.