GA-GA OOH LA LA

    

Betcha didn't know I was such a weirdo, did ya?

Here is the thing about Lady Gaga: You either get it, love it, and you're gulping the Kool-Aid through a sequined bedazzled straw– or you think she's weird and/or are frightened of her.

I, for one, am enamored. What follows is a brief explanation as to why. 

 In the first place, I have an affinity for sequins and make-up. (see above and Halloween post) and Gaga gives me an awesome excuse to play with them.

Secondly, there is a rhyme and a reason to what Lady Gaga does. A reason which I happen to believe in genuinely, and it is this: GaGa's gimmick with the costumes and the drama, as she claims, is all part of an effort to create a safe space for her fans. She strives to be the biggest freak in the room so that no matter how weird or marginalized one may feel there is always someone freakier to hang out with and help take the heat off.

The Lady spoke for herself about her mission on the Ellen show back in 2011:

I'm not saying I aspire to look like Boy George in my day-to-day, by any means, but I have always valued a look, an attitude, and/or an opinion that is a bit artistic. 

I would venture to guess that at times everyone feels like a bit of a pariah; a bit left of center. And whereas society might teach us to squash that part back into submission so as not to make others uncomfortable, Gaga challenges her fans to analyze and embrace those parts of us that "the mainstream" doesn't want to see. Every "weird" urge you've ever had is okay by Gaga. She is heavily invested in providing the safe atmosphere in which her fans can allow their freak flag to fly.

I think it's healthy to have a space in which you can paint your face like a corpse and/or don and attempt to strut in 8 inch heels, just to see if you can do it while not being judged. In the most basic of terms, Gaga creates an environment in which her fans can safely scratch whatever freaky itches they may have (so long as they're not hurting anyone). And I would venture to guess that the ability to do so contributes to a more emotionally stable, healthier population than if people were left itching in the first place. 

I had a great time at the concert. It was a huge moment for me to decide that I wanted to attend badly enough that I didn't care if anyone was willing to go with me. I was able to get my face back to normal, but I'll always be a little monster inside. 

¡Patas arriba! 

Paws up!

Before and After

BEFORE

I don't think South America has changed me at all...

 AFTER

... do you?

See you soon!

[make-up for the Lady Gaga concert]

 [chill out, explanation to follow] 

A peculiar thing happened on my way back to the United States

For quite a while after I left I thought about my leaving the US as just a way to come back to it. Sure, I said I wanted to build a life, get fully immersed, start over... and in the forefront of my mind (or the parts I have the most control over) I meant it when I said it, but in the back (the parts of my head where the thoughts I would love to stop from occurring live) I knew I just needed to accomplish a goal (fluency) and that I probably wouldn't be able to shake the feeling that this was temporary. I left so that I could take my time over the past 11-months to come back.

But along the way, accidentally, and just by existing, I won the battle against the stubborn strangeness of this place. It finally relented and turned familiar. I know north from south, region from region, comuna from barrio, and street from street. Most of these things time will not be able to take away from me (at least not without the help of some civil construction) but the little things that I now have here that make Monday feel like Monday... which is to say awful and a work day... will disappear.

Time will take the markers of normalcy away from me. The canon that goes off at noon in the park near my house alerting me to the fact that I'm (yet again) late in getting out the door. The thick smell of exhausted people desperate to get home during peak hours on the metro. The familiar faces at my local grocery store... some of whom know me well enough now to smile and timidly ask in English "Will you sign here?" when I pay with a debit card, or note that the two boys I usually travel with are missing on certain trips.

The next time I'm back in Santiago I may not be staying near the park where the cannon goes off. I won't have to commute during peak hours because I won't have anywhere I absolutely have to be. And the people who work at the grocery store will probably be different. Santiago will always be familiar to me. I am lucky to have a place I know so well a half a world away, but it will never again feel this normal... boring even. The mundaneness is a kind of privilege. It's a little bit sad to say that Santiago will never again feel quite this ordinary.




But there it is. The tables have turned and now the United States looms ahead of me looking different than I've ever seen it before; looking exotic, adventuresome, weird.