Hey there, friend.

Sometimes I wish I hadn't picked pop culture as the thing I write and speak about. Even though I often use pop culture as a lens or gateway to matters of the heart and soul, at times it feels frivolous and not-enough.

This week, as the world is once again heavy and scary, is one of those times.

Then again, for a lot of us, the world has felt heavy and scary more often than not for quite a long while, and we have learned to somehow function with low-grade (or not-so-low-grade) anxiety, depression, and rage even as we go about our days folding laundry, filing reports, baking birthday cakes, and returning library books.

Maybe I should be used to this by now.

I'm not, though, and I don't really think I want to be. I'm still holding onto hope that someday the world will feel safe and light more often than the way it is now. Barely holding on. But holding on. And I actually think that both going about our business and searching for joy in the darkness can help us hold on.

So I grieve and lament with those who are hurting, and I scream with frustration that SO MANY are hurting and being hurt, but I'm also going to do my job and share my regular mashup of faith stuff and pop culture stuff today.

And, like so often, I'm going to address the current events of the day . . . two weeks late.

Do the math, carry the one . . . Yes, I'm referring to the Super Bowl, which took place an entire half month ago (which in our collective memory that forgets the latest Netflix hit as soon as the final episode fades is basically a decade ago). But since I'm the same friend who dedicated an entire podcast episode to the year 1994 in 2019, I'm going to assume you are neither surprised nor bothered by this slow response.

Side note: I started to say "this tardiness," but that's a weird word that reminds me of the time I got a Saturday school (my school's version of detention and also yes, like in The Breakfast Club) for having too many tardies. I'd like to say I learned a lesson that day, but here we are decades later and I am still frequently tardy.

Was there a point to that story? Nope. But there it is anyway.

Based on the pre-Super Bowl memes floating around the internet, I wasn't nearly as excited for the halftime show as many of my fellow youths of the 90s. I think this can be traced back to my childhood in a small, Midwestern town where everyone around me (and therefore I) listened to primarily country music. Pop music, too, and sure, hair bands and then grunge when it came around. But rap? R&B? I don't remember a lot of people listening to much of those genres as I grew up and have only acquired a serious appreciation for them as an adult.

All that to say, I wasn't super pumped about the halftime show lineup like a lot of people seemed to be, although I understood why they were. But when it came on? I. Got. Into. It. (I just didn't know all the words to most the songs because see that previous paragraph of excuses. See also: I've rarely actually be "in da club" so that may be a factor here as well.)

ANYWAY.

My oldest daughter was watching the game with her youth group, so it was just my husband, my eight-year-old daughter, and me. And like the big ol' nerd parents we are (despite the established fact that we could only sing or "rap" approximately 50% of the words for most the songs), we repeatedly paused the show to explain to her why each of these artists was so important and how their music changed so many things.

Then we heard that intro to "Lose Yourself" and saw Eminem strut on stage. Predictably, this is the rap song I know the most words to, and I offer no excuse or explanation. But I will tell you that when we paused the show once again so I could explain to our daughter the story behind the song, I started crying.

Yep. It happens pretty much every time I hear that song. It just GETS TO ME.

Do I understand the desperation that went into the writing of that song? No. Not the way so many others do. But have I been gripped with panic about missing my one shot, my Opportunity with a Capital O, for my entire adult life? Yeah.

So I got all choked up talking about Eminem and 8-Mile and rap battles, despite having zero actual knowledge of rap battles, and my husband and daughter stared at me and then we all cracked up because yes, I am ridiculous.

For several days after the Super Bowl, I kept thinking back to that moment. (I did not lose myself in the moment, though, just to be clear.) I thought about how the fear of missing my chance at what, greatness? significance? meaning? success? has chased me most my life. And I wondered if I'd always feel that low-grade (and sometimes not-so-low-grade) panic that time is slipping away. I wondered if I'm the only one who's so "ridiculous," if I'm the only one who cries at a rap song and can't shake the fear it dredges up.

That sounds pretty grim, I suppose, but I've lived with this feeling for so long it just feels like normal. Maybe the same way fixing dinner while listening to a podcast explain infectious disease or the latest political upheaval has become nearly normal for us.

All of those thoughts swam circles in my head but later that week, Apple TV+ gave me the loveliest gift and snapped me out of that spiral. I began watching The Afterparty, a murder mystery and comedy starring Tiffany Haddish, Dave Franco, and a bunch of other familiar faces. The basic premise is that a group of people attend their high school reunion and at an afterparty one of them is killed. Haddish's character plays the detective interviewing everyone and trying to figure out whodunit. The most fun part is that each person's interview is told and filmed in a very specific genre, according to the character's personality—romantic comedy, thriller, and my favorite, musical.

Ben Schwartz's character tells his version of what happened as a musical, with most the songs parodying familiar tunes. Including the full song-and-dance routine with his classmates singing and dancing backup in the high school gym called, "Two Shots." Here are some lyrics from that catchy number (and listen to the whole song here):

We all get a moment where the stars align
The universe gives us a verse in the song of time
The spotlight swings our way and it's our time to shine
We're handed a mic on the stage of life, time to rhyme
​
But what happens if you choke and you didn't catch a break?
If you failed, or you bailed with your tail between your legs?
What about those of us who missed our shot, didn't rise to the top
Never became thе cream, and we just remainеd the crop

I've heard it said before that we get one shot in life
And even though that may be true, it's not exactly right
'Cause here's a secret: even though we get one shot in life
We all get that one shot twice

It's both brilliant and nonsensical, a high-energy and [perhaps accidentally] inspiring response to both "Lose Yourself" and "My Shot" from Hamilton, and I cannot emphasize how happy it made me or how much I love it. Was it just the upbeat music and silly performance that made me so happy? No, although yes that too.

It filled me with such joy to see that I am not the only person who feels attacked by songs like "Lose Yourself" and "My Shot," who feels terrified of actually missing the one shot because maybe-just-maybe those songs are right and we only have one shot. How do I know I'm not the only one? Because those songs, those messages have mattered so much to real people (and fictional ones in this show) that they wrote an entire song about how that pressure made them feel.

(And if you're not now singing "Surface Pressure" from Encanto, well, what are you even doing with your life? Because it's clearly not watching and listening to a Disney movie on repeat.)

The people who made The Afterparty know that the way I feel when I hear "Lose Yourself" isn't unusual. That a lot of us are some level of panicked that we've missed our moment, that we blew it, that it's too late, that we'll never get out or make it or do the thing.

And that, my friend, is why I keep coming back to pop culture even when real life is dark and heavy and hard—because music and movies and books and television shows are so freaking good at reassuring and reminding us that no matter what confusing or unexpected or hard or ugly or messy or frustrating or wonderful way we feel, we are not alone.

You are not alone.

Soooo, anywhoooo!

I promised (over on Instagram) some reviews and fun links, so before I say goodbye for now, I'd better get to those!

On Thursday, I shared over on Instagram that I am loving season 4 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel but not enjoying whatsoever season 4 of Cobra Kai. For the love, can not one character in that show be likable?! I also mentioned that I watched I Want You Back, an original rom com on Amazon Prime, and liked it a lot.

A few other reviews for you:

• ​A Discovery of Witches, season 3 - This was the final season of this TV adaptation of the book series by Deborah Harkness, and I thought they wrapped up the forty-seven plotlines pretty well. I liked it, but just as I thought about the first two seasons, I can't imagine anyone who hasn't read the books following this convoluted story!
• ​Broken by Brandi Carlile - I listened to this memoir on audio and enjoyed it quite a bit. It was funny and sad and moving and interesting, and the story comes all the way up to the present. Which means I learned how miserable Brandi was in her personal life WHEN I SAW HER IN CONCERT a few years ago! That felt...weird? But the book was really good. And the bonus of listening to the audiobook is that she sings songs at the end of each chapter.
• ​St. Paul and the Broken Bones - I watched a movie (Long Story Short) a few weeks ago. I didn't like the movie much but the song playing at the end really caught my attention. Turns out, I quite like the band singing that song! St. Paul and the Broken Bones is a soul band and whew, do! they! have! soul! It is a band full of white guys, so know that. But they can SING (and play).

And now some good links:

• ​What a perfect match up​
• ​This cracked me up.​
• ​Help the people in Ukraine if you can.​
• ​Quit banning books!​

In case you missed it:

• ​Wanna know what it's like to work with Chris Evans?​
• ​If you need a new show to watch​
• ​When you're afraid you don't matter​

And that's it for this week! To cap off this emotional stretch of days, I just turned on the Friends reunion (which I never got around to watching when it came out). There are only two things left to do now—grab a box of tissues because I keep crying, and ask Google what on earth Jennifer Aniston has been putting on her face to look exactly the same 15+ years later.

Have a good weekend, friend. No matter how you're doing or feeling, you are not alone. xoxo