From scandal (and SCANDAL) to hope.

I've been meaning to write about (finally!) seeing one of my favorite bands in concert. But, as is the case with several other posts in this space, I tend not to talk about one thing specifically. So I decided in the end that I would use the experience as a framing device for some other things I wish to touch on. Hopefully this exercise produces a seamless output.

Credits to this brilliant article in Commonweal Magazine for the style I attempted to emulate.

I.

It was fifteen minutes or so past eight o'clock when the lights in the hall dimmed one Friday evening in downtown San Francisco, as four beautiful ladies walked onstage to begin their performance. This night was eight long years in the making, years filled with admiration for their body of work coupled by a wishful thinking that, some day soon, my own eyes will witness their talents showcased live. Never could I have guessed that this moment will arrive two years into my new living arrangement, nor could I have envisioned that I won't need to travel thousands of miles to see them in person. Yet there we were, my brother and I standing excitedly amid a packed crowd at the Regency Ballroom along Van Ness Avenue, one train ride away from where our family lives and a few bus stops short of where I work, anticipating what we already knew that affair would turn out to be: total, unadulterated awesomeness.

There was a certain buzz in the air as the minutes wound down, approaching the top of the hour. We could tell because a portion of the crowd, with many others following suit, started cheering for the soundcheck — the soundcheck, of all things! Maybe the sight and sound of the girls' iconic equipment did the trick, inducing no small amount of goosebumps to rise. To think, those sticker-laden guitars and signature drum set were handled at that time by the crew guys; just wait for the reaction once their respective owners use them properly. Or perhaps the audience was getting antsy. After all, their instruments being hooked-up means it's them coming out next. There was no other name billed on the ticket, no front act accompanying them and nobody to warm the crowd up; the one thing that seemed to entertain the audience in the meantime was a stream of songs by the likes of Paramore and Fickle Friends blaring through the speakers, though it turned out to be more "white noise" than "hype music". The agonizing wait only added to the tension quietly building inside the room — a tension so thick, as the old cliché goes, that one could cut it with a knife. When they finally came out, however, it was as if a shot of adrenaline pulsed through everyone's veins, and no sooner than when they played the first few riffs of their opening song did that tension quickly evaporate, turning into sheer joy.

The shirt I hurriedly wore after buying it from the merch table bore the official name of the occasion: SCANDAL from Japan: US and Mexico Tour 2018 "SPECIAL THANKS". I took issue with this right off the bat and, like I normally would with most other things I take issue with, I voiced that sentiment to my brother. Seriously, don't the organizers think we'd already know by now where they're from? It's not like we're expecting to see Olivia Pope and President Fitz or anything. But someone much wiser than me once said I must "pick my battles" in order to "keep my peace", and so I let that minor annoyance slide for the rest of the night. Besides, what was there to be annoyed about? They're kicking off this show by playing the very song that made me a fan! Live! Wait a sec... Did she just say, "Sing it with me"? Crap. What are the lyrics again? Ah —

"どんな瞬間だって運命だって 

ひとつだけ確かな ものがあると知った..."

  

(I knew that every moment was meant to be

And there was only one thing that was certain...)

II.

It was fifteen minutes or so past eight o'clock when the lights in the hall dimmed one Friday evening in downtown San Francisco, as four beautiful ladies walked onstage to begin their performance. This Friday evening in particular was a day I looked forward to more than any other day of the year so far, and not only because of who I was going to see. The morning and afternoon that preceded the concert was, quite literally, a pain. Everything hurt: my body, my feelings, my pride... everything. Even the prior two weeks took quite the toll on me that I seriously considered calling it quits to seek better, more rewarding opportunities elsewhere — anywhere, really, other than where I currently am.

I mean, I get it. It's bad enough I was unable to immediately land a job commensurate to my past working experience after our move here. It already sucks that I have to swallow my own slice of humble pie and basically start over from scratch. But why was I suddenly subjected to (and became the target of) the disgustingly shameful and unquestionably shrewd schemes of those who have little to no sense of decency or ethics, when all I'm trying to do is mind my own business, not step on anybody's toes and simply do well? Was there something I missed? Am I not too self-aware enough to see that this is the way things are, that everybody here is "looking out for number one" and that I should tow the line? ... Nah, this ain't one of those battles I'm picking either. Not now, anyway. So I thought, let me get through this till Friday. I'll go sleep these frustrations off, wake up with a clean slate and make the best out of this messy situation. Lather, rinse, repeat. And when concert day comes, I'll have myself a blast. Maybe afterwards I could then start weighing my options carefully, but I can't take this on just yet; Friday is too special a day to let something or someone spoil it.

An old conversation with a friend and adviser put things in perspective. We were in the thick of discussing how life can feel like one giant roller-coaster ride when he relayed something to me that his own mentor once taught him: he said that while we won't often find ourselves on the up-and-up, sometimes God grants us supernatural highs so we'll have something to look back on and draw joy from when the lows arrive. I'm not quite sure whether watching Japanese women play songs rises to the level of "supernatural" but, man, I could use a high right about now. Life's been handing me too many L's lately so I'm banking on them to deliver a W on Friday night. I trust that my friend is speaking the truth.

III.

It was fifteen minutes or so past eight o'clock when the lights in the hall dimmed one Friday evening in downtown San Francisco, as four beautiful ladies walked onstage to begin their performance. My brother and I messed up when we prepared for the incorrect set list; there's a website you can go to nowadays to check these sorts of things, and we mistakenly assumed this North American tour is similar to their string of shows across Japan promoting their eighth studio album released early this year. This would mean their classics get bypassed in favor of newer hits, which is a bit of a letdown but we were completely okay with it. That's not to say their latest stuff is any bad; in fact, this new album may very well be considered, top-to-bottom, one of their strongest and most well-rounded records ever, and that says a lot for a band that's been together for more than a decade and still at it. I guess we were both simply hoping to live out the fandom for a moment, to experience firsthand what many others did in those concert videos we downloaded via torrent watched dozens of times over and actually "participate" in the show, if only for a couple of songs...

So imagine our shock when the girls busted out an old favorite right out of the gate, and had the audience sing the first part of the final chorus! If this is any indication of how the night was going to unfold, then I guess we can forget about that set list we thought we'd be seeing. Turns out they were playing songs from all eight albums (plus their greatest hits compilation) with a few surprising song choices in between and a generous heap of classics sprinkled throughout, including three noteworthy tracks from their debut album. One involved the customary (and historically emotional) sing-along segment at the bridge before the last chorus, another was arguably the song that first got them mainstream attention which they transformed into a mini-exhibition of their individual skills, and the last was a concert staple mainly accompanied by the fans' twirling of towels/handkerchiefs/shirts/some item of clothing in the air. Before we knew it, we'd crossed off nearly every item in our mental checklist of SCANDAL show hallmarks. Looks like my brother and I actually managed to live out the fandom, after all. Damn it, were we glad to be proven wrong!

Honest mistake? Possibly. Coincidence? Also likely. Stupidity? You be the judge of that. If anything, this whole scene merely reinforces what has long been a lesson I needed to learn in my own life, one that I struggle with constantly: to take everything in stride. Personally speaking, I dislike surprises. I would prefer if things played out exactly as I had planned them, and I get uncomfortable when they don't. It's not so much a matter of inflexibility on my part; rather, I'm the type of person to try and stay two steps ahead, preparing for every possible outcome and ensuring that what might go wrong won't. Of course there will always be variables and situations beyond our control and there really isn't anything we can do about those, but in the end what truly tests and reveals our character is not what happens to us but how we respond. So, note to self: let life surprise you with all its plot twists and curve-balls. Keep swinging for home runs! Expect the worst, wish for the best, and know that everything happens to serve a greater purpose in our lives, whether we realize it or not.

IV.

It was fifteen minutes or so past eight o'clock when the lights in the hall dimmed one Friday evening in downtown San Francisco, as four beautiful ladies walked onstage to begin their performance. For however long it lasted, the experience left us in a state of euphoria that did not immediately fizzle out even as we exited onto the streets and walked a few more blocks before booking a ride back home. I had an inkling that the hangover could last longer than usual, but I knew for certain I never wanted this feeling to end so soon. I'll definitely write about it, I thought, but no... I'm calling it a night, at the end of a long day within a longer week, and I think I earned myself the right to lie in bed and get some shut-eye.

I wondered, though, what the rest of the world might be up to that evening. Granted, nearly half of the world's population doesn't have the slightest clue nor does it bother to care who those girls are, so these folks may feel they aren't missing much. On the whole, however, could there possibly be anyone, anywhere, having a better time than us in that moment? If there is then kudos to you, whoever you are. But if not, I wish everybody had the chance to experience what we all did — not necessarily watching a bunch of foreigners in concert but rather entering this bizarre yet exhilarating state of bliss, feeding off of another's energy and letting it course through every fiber of your being until it bursts from within you and affects the next person, causing a chain reaction of positive vibrations that links everybody together, despite how different they all seem to you or how disinterested you are of them, and all become one even for a while. Humanity can do itself a world of good by pursuing this every now and then, wouldn't you agree?

But a sobering thought came crashing in my head as I woke up the following morning: perhaps now might be a horrible time to talk about "scandal". Merriam-Webster describes it as "a circumstance or action that offends propriety or established moral conceptions or disgraces those associated with it," among other definitions. Even hearing the word said aloud evokes quite the unnerving response, a stark contrast from the aforementioned feeling of bliss — it divides rather than unites, tears down rather than builds up, scatters rather than connects. It leaves one either bothered by the stream of mental images that come to mind in recalling such circumstances, or bewildered at the thought of unlikely people doing uncharacteristic actions. Either way, when these sorts of things break out, ugliness ensues: lives are ruined, careers jeopardized and trust broken in the process, all at the same time. Recent history, in fact, has proven this to be the case given the series of allegations (credible or otherwise) made against a who's who of reputable individuals in seemingly every sector of influence, be it entertainment, political, or religious. The news can be so demoralizing sometimes that one may dare to ask: Is my faith — in humanity, in the "institution", in a higher power, in... general — somewhat misplaced? Is there any virtue left? Should we give up on giving a crap, because apparently so much of the world has become too desensitized or too apathetic to care about these things anymore?

The word "scandal" written in Japanese (スキャンダル)

V.

It was fifteen minutes or so past eight o'clock when the lights in the hall dimmed one Friday evening in downtown San Francisco, as four beautiful ladies walked onstage to begin their performance. Their band's name is the most random thing ever, actually: they basically spotted the biggest neon sign outside the Osaka studio where they rehearsed in their early years and they decided, without attaching any particular meaning or sentiment, to just go with it. As fun an anecdote this was to recall, however, it sadly wasn't the first thing off the top of my head as I started putting words to this rapid transit of thought. In thinking of "scandal", what was fresh in my memory was not that story but rather a recent episode of the Pints with Aquinas podcast, where the host Matt Fradd invited EWTN's Raymond Arroyo as a phone-in guest to discuss the current crisis facing the Church. Aptly enough, the episode was entitled: "From scandal to hope."

The bombshell revelations made this past summer concerning the predation of clergy on young men and seminarians, as well as the subsequent cover-up by those in the hierarchy, has left me and many others disheartened and in need of some measure of encouragement. Living out your beliefs is hard enough in and of itself, but to discover that those who are supposedly the exemplars and role-models are not willing to do the same — or worse, do not wholeheartedly believe in it themselves — makes it all the more challenging. The veteran journalist Arroyo did not disappoint, though, as he offered some much needed advice. He was asked by the host Fradd what the late Mother Angelica, EWTN foundress and Arroyo's old boss, would say during these troubling times. Arroyo, in response, did not venture to assume what Mother might have said ("I know if I said it, I'm gonna end up in purgatory with her throwing rocks down at my head!") but instead he recounted an incident where, as he scurried about making sure things in the network are in order, she stopped him dead on his tracks and said:

"Come here, sit down! You have to be true to what the Lord is calling you to in this present moment — not yesterday, not tomorrow, but right now! It's in the duties and responsibilities of this present moment where you will discover what the Lord has for you. And only by being in that present moment will you discover, in the duties and the responsibilities the Lord has given you, what He intends for you."

Such is the wisdom and practicality of those words. See, life ain't always kind. We are not guaranteed that every single day would turn out fine. In reality, the opposite is true: most days will be crappy. There's only so much we can do to stay the course, as plenty of things are out of our hands that all anyone can do is to stand back and watch. Our previous bad experiences may also precondition us to expect that the worst case scenario could happen at any given time in any given day, and these won't certainly put us at ease. But when we become too occupied with these anxious and troublesome thoughts, we ignore what lies before our very eyes. I would have never enjoyed that Friday evening if I allowed what happened on Friday morning-to-afternoon to get the better of me. The faithful could never relish in the new springtime beginning to unfold if they remain embittered by the crisis to the point of being cynical or stoic. Whatever predicament we find ourselves in, all of us run the risk of not appreciating the good that can still potentially come in the present if we keep worrying about a past we cannot change or a future we cannot predict.

This is precisely why we must never lose hope. We need not fret when scandalous moments arrive; we ought to weather the storms, trying our damnedest to stay afloat and being mindful that these too shall pass. And weathering them does not mean living in a bubble and pretending they don't exist so therefore one does not have to deal with them. Instead, these storms must be confronted head-on, with an eye towards at least surviving them — if not totally overcoming them — rather than drowning in them. When all is said and done, everything in the universe balances out: rainfalls beget rainbows, crises produce heroes and persecutions give birth to saints. Now who says happy endings don't exist anymore?

TL;DR

I think these beautiful ladies said sang it best: (You can follow along here if you think their accents are still too thick)