It's hard to stop thinking thoughts that you've been thinking for a long, long time. Self destructive thoughts not intended to propel one into any positive direction, but instead, to send one spiraling down a path of self-defeating loathing.
It's tempting to divert attention from a solution and to focus on the reason. Why, why, why? Maybe my mom didn't bond with me. Maybe my parents were unprepared for a child such as I. Maybe it was a genetic malfunction or maybe I just like feeling sorry for myself. In the end, the whys don't change the now. I can forgive my mother, forgive my parents, forgive myself, but it doesn't change the the core beliefs about myself. I know, I've tried. The thoughts may be chased away with any tool one chooses to use; positive thinking, mad busyness, old mental brooms, but they always sneak back like a roach searching for food in the dark. I empathize with people who kill themselves. I won't, because I don't want to piss God off, but I understand it.
But frankly, I'm tired of the mental monkey on my back. I live with a constant slow burning fear. Nothing is black and white. Every fear has it's own shade of color.
So what's the solution? Who am I kidding? I don't know. The only thing I know is to keep moving forward through the fear, in faith. I keep on writing, though no one reads me, as if I am a real writer; going to work, though I constantly mess up, as if I am a good secretary; trying to eat right, get exercise, keep myself well-groomed as if I am an attractive woman, though I don't believe it; and trudging forward spiritually and in relationships with others, although it's difficult and sometimes I'm difficult and indifferent.
I want to just quit it, but that doesn't work for me. There are periods of relief, when things work out despite my inherent belief in failure. Those are wondrous moments.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Taking Tiger by the Tale
My journalism professor brought up an interesting topic in class. What is fair in journalism concerning Tiger Woods’ car accident on 11/27/09, the parade of mistresses slogging through the media and Woods’ subsequent revelation of infidelity? Is Woods’ life our business?
The class erupted in opinion. A student broke first, insisting that Woods placed himself in a position of public scrutiny because he was rich and famous. She said that because it was “our” money that made Woods a millionaire, he lost his right to privacy. There was a lot of agreement. Those who disagreed were either silent, couldn’t or wouldn’t make their point.
The Woods’ coverage has changed journalism, particularly in the world of sports, advised the professor.
I saw a paper cartoon this afternoon depicting two people watching news of sex and gossip. One person was drawn, turning to the other saying that the sports channel sure had changed. Yessiree, Bob. It sure has.
Woods has been playing golf almost since birth and in the media spotlight since the age of two. He grew up in front of us. We watched him win much and lose little. We snirkled and let it go when, as an adult, he mouthed f’bombs on television.
Place yourself in these shoes: you are a young man, healthy, semi handsome and very wealthy celebrity. Everywhere you go; people want to do things for you, to please you and women throw themselves at you.
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Can I blow you in the bathroom, sir?”
Media and media audiences have a love-hate relationship with celebrities. Love the talent, the lifestyle, money and fame, and hate that those very things allow escape from life’s excrutiating mediocrity. When celebrities fall, some of us salivate while watching them crash and burn. Salacious gossip is a delicious diversion from the sameness of our lives. We are allowed to be better than, placing ourselves above the star we have elevated so high.
Woods is a great golfer. He is not Jesus Christ.
Woods has proven to be just a man, susceptible to temptation, corruptible by power and money and perhaps destroyed by it, just like billions of men past and God knows how many more in the future.
The answer to my journalism professor’s question is that, yes, journalism was fair in its reporting of Woods’ crumbling life, but journalism can no longer use the description of fair, as described by Merriam Webster as meaning, “being marked by impartiality and honesty, free from self-interest, prejudice; or favoritism.” The description that now best fits journalism, for Woods and for many stories to come, is “superficially pleasing.”
The class erupted in opinion. A student broke first, insisting that Woods placed himself in a position of public scrutiny because he was rich and famous. She said that because it was “our” money that made Woods a millionaire, he lost his right to privacy. There was a lot of agreement. Those who disagreed were either silent, couldn’t or wouldn’t make their point.
The Woods’ coverage has changed journalism, particularly in the world of sports, advised the professor.
I saw a paper cartoon this afternoon depicting two people watching news of sex and gossip. One person was drawn, turning to the other saying that the sports channel sure had changed. Yessiree, Bob. It sure has.
Woods has been playing golf almost since birth and in the media spotlight since the age of two. He grew up in front of us. We watched him win much and lose little. We snirkled and let it go when, as an adult, he mouthed f’bombs on television.
Place yourself in these shoes: you are a young man, healthy, semi handsome and very wealthy celebrity. Everywhere you go; people want to do things for you, to please you and women throw themselves at you.
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Can I blow you in the bathroom, sir?”
Media and media audiences have a love-hate relationship with celebrities. Love the talent, the lifestyle, money and fame, and hate that those very things allow escape from life’s excrutiating mediocrity. When celebrities fall, some of us salivate while watching them crash and burn. Salacious gossip is a delicious diversion from the sameness of our lives. We are allowed to be better than, placing ourselves above the star we have elevated so high.
Woods is a great golfer. He is not Jesus Christ.
Woods has proven to be just a man, susceptible to temptation, corruptible by power and money and perhaps destroyed by it, just like billions of men past and God knows how many more in the future.
The answer to my journalism professor’s question is that, yes, journalism was fair in its reporting of Woods’ crumbling life, but journalism can no longer use the description of fair, as described by Merriam Webster as meaning, “being marked by impartiality and honesty, free from self-interest, prejudice; or favoritism.” The description that now best fits journalism, for Woods and for many stories to come, is “superficially pleasing.”
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Michael Still Thrilling
The St. Petersburg Times featured a story about a world-wide event where local people performed Thriller at the Pier in St. Petersburg, Florida, on Saturday, October 24, 2009. Excited, I, a 52 year old grandmother of six, decided I was going.
I was torn in my personal feelings about Michael Jackson. I am embarrassed to admit there are times I tend to fall for media hype if it is relentless enough. I leaned toward his guilt, even though I lack authority to do so. Even if he wasn’t guilty of what he was accused, he certainly was weirdly eccentric. What was completely clear, where there was no confusion whatsoever, was his talent. Zero. Michael Jackson’s dance moves and music have thrilled me since the Jackson Five. My children and I felt compelled to pretend to dance like Jackson whenever Billy Jean, Beat it, I’m Bad and Thriller played through the 80’s.
The event featured in Times was sponsored by Thrill The World, an annual worldwide simultaneous dance of Michael Jackson's “Thriller.” The event is intended to raise money for charity and break the current record in the Guinness Book of World Records. Thrill the World, the brainchild of Ines Markeljevic, a Canadian dance instructor and choreographer. Markeljevic believed there was going to be a large “Thriller” dance after reading the 2005 headline in a local newspaper, “Thriller at Dundas Square.” After learning she was wrong, Markeljevic decided to undertake the daunting task of trying to create a record to beat. In 2006, 62 people in a community center created the first world record with only 2 hours of training.
Thrill the World was born in 2007, with over 1,700 people in 52 cities and 5 continents participated, breaking the 2006 record. 2008 brought 4,179 dancers, breaking the record of the year before.
I posted my excitement on Facebook. Surely someone would want to go with me. Didn’t everyone try to learn the moonwalk in their socks in the kitchen in the 80’s? My grandchildren were busy. I asked a friend. “Not my thing,” he replied. My mind was made up to go by myself if necessary.
So, on October 24, 2009, at 7:00 p.m., despite a fear of going downtown at night and finding parking, armed with a jacket, tissue, camera, extra batteries and Mace, I headed downtown to watch. I expected it to be an exciting night.
I was not disappointed. Arriving a little after 7:30 p.m., I saw 200 people, mainly children, dressed in ghoulish attire, lined up on the median of the street leading to the Pier. Police on large sleek dark horses kept the crowd, consisting of several hundred people, in line and off the street. An adult-sized zombie shadowed the edge of the crowd, making sure there were none of the living straggled onto the street.
Finally, there was a countdown of the participants. 200 out of 400 people attended, slightly disappointing, but still exciting. Then, a countdown of the last 60 seconds and….Vincent Price’s voice eerily boomed out over the ocean.
The entire song lasted between 4 and 6 minutes. It was a historic event in the year of Michael Jackson’s death and I was an unrecorded part of it.
The 2009 statistics are 22,596 dance participants in 32 countries. Expected media reports were greatly exaggerated by anticipating 250,000. This event seems to be the kind that gains momentum slowly, like a boulder rolling down a large craggy mountain.
I’m learning the dance. I plan on being one more for next year.
I was torn in my personal feelings about Michael Jackson. I am embarrassed to admit there are times I tend to fall for media hype if it is relentless enough. I leaned toward his guilt, even though I lack authority to do so. Even if he wasn’t guilty of what he was accused, he certainly was weirdly eccentric. What was completely clear, where there was no confusion whatsoever, was his talent. Zero. Michael Jackson’s dance moves and music have thrilled me since the Jackson Five. My children and I felt compelled to pretend to dance like Jackson whenever Billy Jean, Beat it, I’m Bad and Thriller played through the 80’s.
The event featured in Times was sponsored by Thrill The World, an annual worldwide simultaneous dance of Michael Jackson's “Thriller.” The event is intended to raise money for charity and break the current record in the Guinness Book of World Records. Thrill the World, the brainchild of Ines Markeljevic, a Canadian dance instructor and choreographer. Markeljevic believed there was going to be a large “Thriller” dance after reading the 2005 headline in a local newspaper, “Thriller at Dundas Square.” After learning she was wrong, Markeljevic decided to undertake the daunting task of trying to create a record to beat. In 2006, 62 people in a community center created the first world record with only 2 hours of training.
Thrill the World was born in 2007, with over 1,700 people in 52 cities and 5 continents participated, breaking the 2006 record. 2008 brought 4,179 dancers, breaking the record of the year before.
I posted my excitement on Facebook. Surely someone would want to go with me. Didn’t everyone try to learn the moonwalk in their socks in the kitchen in the 80’s? My grandchildren were busy. I asked a friend. “Not my thing,” he replied. My mind was made up to go by myself if necessary.
So, on October 24, 2009, at 7:00 p.m., despite a fear of going downtown at night and finding parking, armed with a jacket, tissue, camera, extra batteries and Mace, I headed downtown to watch. I expected it to be an exciting night.
I was not disappointed. Arriving a little after 7:30 p.m., I saw 200 people, mainly children, dressed in ghoulish attire, lined up on the median of the street leading to the Pier. Police on large sleek dark horses kept the crowd, consisting of several hundred people, in line and off the street. An adult-sized zombie shadowed the edge of the crowd, making sure there were none of the living straggled onto the street.
Finally, there was a countdown of the participants. 200 out of 400 people attended, slightly disappointing, but still exciting. Then, a countdown of the last 60 seconds and….Vincent Price’s voice eerily boomed out over the ocean.
The entire song lasted between 4 and 6 minutes. It was a historic event in the year of Michael Jackson’s death and I was an unrecorded part of it.
The 2009 statistics are 22,596 dance participants in 32 countries. Expected media reports were greatly exaggerated by anticipating 250,000. This event seems to be the kind that gains momentum slowly, like a boulder rolling down a large craggy mountain.
I’m learning the dance. I plan on being one more for next year.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Welcome to My Blog
What makes me different, more unique, than anyone else with a keyboard and fingers? Is it that I more talented or educated? That my life experiences elicit sympathy or evoke laughter?
Everyone who writes wants to believe they can be Hemingway, Tolstoy or Capote. We all want to believe in endless possibilities for the American dream.
The answers to those questions will be revealed by you, the reader. I look forward to finding out.
Everyone who writes wants to believe they can be Hemingway, Tolstoy or Capote. We all want to believe in endless possibilities for the American dream.
The answers to those questions will be revealed by you, the reader. I look forward to finding out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)