Holiday

Well. It's been a while.

Once again I'm simply writing to avoid homework I really should be doing but who's counting? I have so much to say and not enough time to say it all, but I do have one thing I need to get off my chest.

I saw American Idiot on Broadway this weekend. Wow, Heidi, out of all things you could have written about since the last blog post, including but not limited to a trip to London and a boyfriend, you choose that?

There's a reason. A very big reason.

I still remember the first time my dad played me "American Idiot." My mother was not happy with him (because of the dirty words and I was only in third grade at the time), but I was hooked. That driving, power-chord-punk sound started my heart pounding and made me want to smash guitars up on stage. I grew up with American Idiot in my ears.

Green Day inspired me to pick up the electric guitar. I didn't do so until my freshman year of high school, but when I picked up my jet black Ibanez at Guitar Center I brought home a book of tab along with it. Green Day's American Idiot.

I went through a bad time my sophomore year of high school. I didn't know who I was, what I wanted. I was being pulled in a million different directions by a million different people and I was scared. Depressed. I folded into myself, and I couldn't find the energy to enjoy the things I liked because I was too worried about pleasing everyone else.

Enter 21st Century Breakdown.

"21 Guns." The first time I heard it, I didn't cry. Then I listened to the lyrics. That song, that album, pulled me back into myself because it reminded me that I needed to stop fighting for the things that didn't matter. The things that weren't making me happy. That standing up for myself wasn't being bitchy or rude. And that pushing the poison out of my life wasn't quitting or giving up. It was doing right by me. I was getting better.

Junior year: the first time I ever sang and played guitar onstage in front of an audience. My dream since I was younger. The song? "Boulevard of Broken Dreams."  

"Good Riddance" was played at my senior year graduation. It's the only song that can make me cry every time I hear it. And it made me cry before I associated it with my graduation.

Green Day is one of those bands that has always been there. They hold the award for the most songs by a single band on my MP3 player, and when people ask me what my favorite bands are Green Day almost always comes up first. Sometimes I'll forget about them, but whether it's a song on the radio, a quoted lyric, or a song on shuffle, Green Day always comes back.

A band that is so ingrained in our culture that even if you've never listened to them intentionally  you've heard at least five of their songs. Everybody knows their name. Billie Joe's voice is unmistakable.

Fast-forward to ten years after I first heard the famous "rock-opera" concept album, I watch the story of St. Jimmy, Whasername, and the Jesus of Suburbia come to life before my eyes. And suddenly I understand.

This album is for me. Not me specifically (duh), but kids my age. The disillusioned youth of America, the 20-somethings who think we're invincible and all-knowing when in reality we die from drugs and accidents and dumb decisions and crippling debt and heartbreak. We think we know everything, but we're lost. We grew up in a world of violence and prejudice.

Green Day gave us something to believe in, and something to fight for. 

Whether we believe in our country, our God, our city, our town, our town, our home, our friends, our family, ourselves, it's okay. Believe in all of it; believe in none of it. Just believe in something. Because that is how you live. Not survive. Live.

American Idiot saw a world of kids growing up to survive. That album reminded us--reminded me--to grow up to live. Thanks to American Idiot, I am fighting for what I love and what makes me happy. And I am fighting for a better world, and I am no longer afraid to stand up and say what I believe that should be. No should be afraid to.

I know Green Day will never hear this, but I just want to say thanks anyway. Thank you, Green Day, for saving me more than once. For helping me understand what I want and what I'm fighting for. As a third grader, for helping me find my voice in music. As a high school kid, for helping me find myself. As a college student, for helping me find my voice not only as an individual but also as a member of this country and this world.

I don't want to be an American idiot, or a St. Jimmy or a Whatsername. I am not the waiting, but a rebel, and the last of the American girls. I will travel the world all my life, but do not forget to await my homecoming. And no matter how many times I walk that lonely road, I will always come back because I believe in the Jesus of Suburbia. Rage and Love.