Like many before me, I write from angst. I haven’t had much lately…
Today, though, I feel need. It’s a nice place from which to write. I much prefer it to sitting in front of a monitor willing an idea to form in between the occasional guilty click on my facebook page, which mocks me from its shrunken state on the bottom of the screen.
I’ve got a few things stuck in my craw…
Arianna Huffington sold out. Despite the rather dismal projections offered by many who know much more than I about these things, I understand the motivation from a business point of view. But I didn’t see Arianna as a business. I saw Arianna as a pioneer, sort of a new age Annie Oakley with a sexy foreign accent. And, I ask you, would Annie Oakley have sold her gun? Even if it meant she could grow her audience? What if more people took her seriously? Would she have sold it then? I don’t think so.
For me, Arianna represented “The Total Package”. She is smart, beautiful, savvy, brave, maternal, and charming. She gave the appearance of having “It All”. Recently, I listened to an interview in which she was asked why she wasn’t “seeing” anyone. (The fact that this is considered a pertinent question in 2011 is something that could get stuck in my craw if I let it. For now, I’ve decided not to let it.) Paraphrased, her answer was that she just hadn’t found anyone who was worth it. She was busy. She loved her life. She was a self-fulfilling female. I suppose she still is…in a way.
Did I mention I actually like the “Black Eyed Peas”? I do. They opened for “No Doubt” about a million years ago in a lofty, former Baptist tabernacle-cum-tiny concert hall now called simply, “The Tabernacle”. My date hated them. I suffered them in anticipation of things to come. But, even so, I could see their appeal.
Will. I. Am., despite obvious identity issues inherent in the chosen spelling of his given name and the unfortunate choice of headgear, is a brilliant musician and businessman, which is precisely why Intel recently named him “Director of Creative Innovation”.
Let’s agree they were over-ambitious. And, given that, and Mr. .Am’s recent recognition, there was no room for mistakes. If your desire, Will. I. Am., is to be known to the world as a creative genius, then you’d better think before you take on a job of this magnitude. Before you decide to create a light-show the size of a football field, teeming with human bodies, you should be absolutely sure the mikes will work. It’s a small thing, but in the end when we’re watching, and Fergie is singing, only we can’t hear it because her mike is going in and out, over and over, that small thing becomes huge.
As she lay bleeding, the vultures wheeled. If I had a dime for every time I’ve read a headline that promised tantalizing details of the time Fergie wet her pants, I could buy a cup of coffee…and a biscotti. Okay, so Fergie wet her pants. Video evidence is unequivocal. And, so what? She didn’t wet her pants at Cowboys Stadium, but she did do a bitchin’ Axl Rose impression.
Why is it that, once the bleeding starts, that’s all we know? We smell the blood, and nothing else matters. Why do we work so hard to bring down those we worked so hard to elevate? What is wrong with this picture? Are we really that bored…jealous…unhappy…small? Well, I guess we are.
Sometimes I only read the headlines; case in point, the recent brouhaha over abortion rights.
When I was in college, our English teacher gave us a choice of essay subjects. We could write about abortion, or we could write our own “Bill of Rights”. Declaring abortion rights a dead issue since it’s particulars seemed to have been bandied about since the time of my birth, I chose to construct a “Bill of Rights”. The paper is one of few I socked away for future generations. In it, I addressed the quandary that is dishwashing and made what proved to be a convincing case. After all these years the A+, written in red ink, shines bright atop the cover page.
And yet, here we are some thirty years hence, and my inbox is deluged with emails from “Move-On” and “NARAL”, imploring me to take action against Republicans who, they insist, would rather a woman die than end an unwanted pregnancy.
Oh, how I have waffled.
On the one hand, I sincerely believe that a woman who doesn’t wish to be a mother should not be. On the other hand, I have trouble arguing the point that a human is not conceived at conception. I know it’s just a bunch of cells. But, it’s THE bunch of cells. It’s the only bunch of cells capable of human life. Doesn’t that, in and of itself, constitute life?
And, on the other hand, why are we legislating human anatomy and physiology?
I don’t have answers, but I am fascinated that we are still talking about it. And, by the way, whatever happened to those cool foil suits our professors said we’d all be wearing by now? Nobody talks about THAT anymore…
I can’t decide if it’s cool or scary. Facebook may have incited a war. The headline reads “Inspired by Tunisia
According to “The Social Network”, Facebook is controlled by a 20-something, egg-headed cuckold. I have children older than he, with much more life-experience, and still, I wouldn’t be comfortable following them “as to war”.
Once again, I find myself torn. I’m awestruck by the way Facebook shrinks borders. My friend’s list, alone, covers several continents. I socialize with people living in other countries every single day. I’m not sure my mother ever met someone from another continent, and if she did, I’m sure they didn’t converse daily. Facebook has improved my life in many ways. I’m more intelligent. I’ve learned things from people I never knew I wanted to know. I’m more worldly. I ask questions of my international friends. From them, I’ve learned more about Ireland and South Africa
And, I waste lots of time. There’s just no two ways about it. At least half the time I spend on Facebook is empty, mindless, and most important, time I should be spending looking at, or into, someone else’s face.
Like it or not, though, I believe Facebook, or something like it, to be a permanent part of our culture. Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to learn how to maximize the positive parts of the experience and still have plenty of face-time with our favorite faces.
© Copyright 2007-2011 Stacye Carroll All Rights Reserved
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