Each concert I attend is a rung on a ladder leading me up…but to where? I do not know. The top of the ladder is out of sight, maybe never ending, so the concerts continue and I’m happier with each step up. Or is this just me putting on a brave face as I constantly anticipate for more, never fully clear what I intended to leave in the first place? While Emerson romanticizes a journey to Naples, seeing the Vatican, and immersing himself in the beauty of his sights, I often find myself lost in thought of imagining the next concert I will attend. So, the idea that “Travelling is a fool’s paradise” (Emerson) is a truth I hate to believe. Just as Emerson hopes to be “intoxicated with beauty, and lose [his] sadness” (Emerson), I too expect to be fully indulged in the music at concerts as I lose myself to the lyrics, leaving my own sadness back at home. Yet, my thoughts follow me wherever I go and I can never escape the haunting pondering going on in the back of my mind. My three most anticipated concerts of 2023 were for Gracie Abrams, Lizzy McAlpine, and Taylor Swift. After years of singing their songs in the shower, I would finally be able to shout the verses to the songs live with fans just like me. However, it is at these three concerts that I can still remember the anxious feeling in my gut, the exact feeling I thought I’d left at home. 

Snow fell on my hood as I sat on the sidewalk outside of Irving Plaza for hours before the doors to Gracie’s concert would even open. At least fifty girls sat or stood in line before me and another fifty waited behind.  All of us there with ribbons in our hair. Everyone humming Gracie’s songs together while trying to be patient, all of us covertly bonded by the shared joy of being a fangirl. Yet, my leg shook against the pavement, not from the cold, but from the same source of stress it anxiously bounces from when I am sitting at my desk in school. I thought about the homework I would have to complete when I would get home later that day. I thought about the limited amount of sleep I’d get that night. I thought about whether I would regret going to this concert in the future. But after all, I had been waiting for this concert for months, and it was all I was able to think about in school that day. So how come being in line for the concert had me focusing more on school than I had when I was actually in school earlier that day? I tried clearing the thoughts out of my head, but as much as I am retrospective, I am also constantly worrying about my future. I wanted my mind to focus on the present, but all I was able to think about sitting in line was the crashing of stress on my mind after the concert rather than the excitement I’d experience during it. 

Ever-present stress accompanies me, not just as I am waiting in line for concerts to start, but even during the concerts themselves. The day of Lizzy’s concert, it wasn’t just Lizzy I was looking forward to seeing that night. It was also my sister, whom I had not seen for what seemed like an eternity prior to that day. The relationship I have with my sister makes us inseparable when we are together, so being able to experience this concert with her after she’d been away at college was something that came to mind every day leading up to the day, something I couldn’t help but radiantly smile at each time it did come to mind. My friends saved my spot in line when I spotted my sister across the street and ran to her, falling into her familiar embrace. I thought this would be the perfect night. I braced myself for the rush of adrenaline I would feel as Lizzy sang “my best friends are with me and I feel okay” (McAlpine), the line that I’d been ready to scream with my friends, with my sister, and with an audience full of energetic teenage girls like myself. I thought to myself, this really is the perfect night. But I was nowhere near as ready for Lizzy to sing “Nothing / Sad N Stuff.” The whiplash of emotions I encountered in the span of a few minutes shrank my smile as my voice cracked to the lyrics “I’m alone, I’m alone, I’m alone / All at once / And I don’t know how to get back what was” (McAlpine). I looked at my sister, who was then standing farther from me than she had been at the start of the concert (the crowd must’ve pushed us apart), and I took a steady deep breath in, the air wavering out as I exhaled. My sister would have to go back to college the morning after. Just the thought of it already made me feel as if I were alone, and I was truly unsure how I could feel okay knowing that she wouldn’t be with me at the same time the next day. 

Last but certainly not least, what many can agree as the most anticipated tour of the year was the Eras Tour. I spent months deciding which “era” I would go dressed as, and it wasn’t until I found a sparkly pink skirt at Buffalo Exchange that I knew I needed to go dressed as Lover. I put on blue mascara to match the theme and stacked both arms with friendship bracelets before stepping into the stadium. I was ready to embark on a journey through each of Taylor’s ten albums, but I was stopped abruptly by the speech she made about her song “Marjorie.” What I assumed would be a night of singing and dancing soon turned into me shedding tears, consumed by fears. The song “Marjorie” was inspired by Taylor’s late grandma and even included backing vocals from her. My voice trembled as I sang along to the lyrics, “I should’ve asked you questions / I should’ve asked you how to be / Asked you to write it down for me” (Swift). My friends hugged me from both sides, but my mind was too consumed with memories of my own grandma for me to acknowledge their consolation. I thought of my grandma in her faded plaid armchair peacefully sitting in her own thoughts. There was no need for me to set myself a reminder to give her a call the next morning because experiencing “Marjorie” live has already stuck with me ever since. My grandma likes to keep to herself, but knowing I can be in her presence is stronger than words can communicate. So, while I went to the Eras Tour with the expectation of being able to escape my sadness, my emotions were still able to catch up to me. Though this is not necessarily a problem, it illustrates  Emerson’s claim about traveling, “My giant goes with me wherever I go” (Emerson), and I left the stadium with blue-stained cheeks. 

This is not to say I am brought down by every concert I attend, but by climbing this ladder of concerts, I have come to realize that it is inevitable to be free of the “sad self…that I fled from” (Emerson). Concerts are my portals to anticipated euphoria and while I’m unfortunately worried by the same mind inside, I’m never quite ready to step back out if it means I have to leave the artists I’ve waited years to see. If that makes me a fool based on Emerson’s philosophy, at least the paradise of these concerts were worth it while the escape from myself lasted.