BLOG: The cold in LA
I lived in Los Angeles last year, and though I came back to Grand Forks over my winter break, a new song by The Killers had a profound effect on me this week when I first heard it. It’s called “Christmas in LA,” and I’ll include a link to the music video at the bottom of this post.
First, let me say I love The Killers. I especially love that they produce a Christmas song and a music video every November before the holidays; they have five or six now. Some are goofy — like “Don’t Shoot Me, Santa” — but others are serious and straight up cool. One uses old footage from It’s a Wonderful Life (the best Christmas movie before the age of Home Alone) to tell a compelling story of redemption and forgiveness.
“Christmas in LA” follows a struggling starving artist in Los Angeles trying to break into the acting scene. It’s not an original tale — in reality or represented in media — but it’s dang heartbreaking, and having experienced a form in film school last year, I found a little extra significance in this song.
It’s been six months since I’ve seen the ocean or heard the road of dirty light-rail stations and the under-cared for mentally disorder homeless of LA, but I’ve been thinking of my friends in the big city this month and wondering how they’re faring on their own.
Last year, most of my friends went with their families to Mexico to waste a few weeks somewhere even hotter. I, meanwhile, walked out of the terminal into a blizzard in Fargo. (Tragically, the same was true over spring break). In fact, all my memories and experiences in Grand Forks last school year revolved around snow, food, and reunion; every time I came back to visit, that’s all my short days were filled with.
This summer, I had to adapt to the fact that Grand Forks didn’t just mean snowstorms and foggy windows, a sense of hurry and transience. Of course, the snow and the cold is back, but that transience isn’t, though I have had a few flashbacks to my visits last year, feeling like I only have a few days in town before I need to wake up early and get on a plane — feeling like I need to try to squeeze everybody into my limited schedule, disappoint everyone, then fly away alone.
Then I remember my home for the time being is here; the worst I need to do is walk back to it from the union.
So as I listen to this song, old, confused feelings find their way back in my throat. But I swallow and hike my hood over my ears, as the cold reminds me I’m home.