30 August 2006
That bravado
One of my favorite TV shows is American Idol. Not that I dream of becoming a singing star (well, maybe sometimes: I'd looove to have that other spotlight); I'm simply entertained by the show. Particularly, when they air the audition episodes for the season.
Watching the wannabees make me green with envy. I don't know singing, but my fair level of sanity allows me to say that more than half of the auditioners are either under-talent or simply, literally crazy. Many of them really wants to win, but quite a number just wants to make a scene. Their gimmicks run from the unique to the unusual to the utterly embarassing. Yet that doesn't stop them from making a fool of themselves--on millions of TV screens worldwide.
Where do they get such face? Thinking of wearing their shoes (cosutmes) mortifies me. A million eyes watch them murder their reputations, but they just wouldn't stop (the show just had its fifth year, the next is coming). It's like being a pointless laughing stock is the most thing to do! Viva, bravado!
Then again, all has not been for naught. They are working on their dreams, after all -- grabbing that chance (and obviously screwing it up) to come one step closer to stardom. To hell with sheer embarassment, and who needs dignity, I'm gonna be a star! And where I am in life right now, that doesn't sound bad at all.
Time to make my own move: up the stakes in this wicked game that is life. I can't forever be just another contestant. My plans would seem weak--not to mention, financially impaled--but I need to take risks if I want excitement back into my diary.
You got it. I am about to make a fool of myself -- and I am not scared.
Watching the wannabees make me green with envy. I don't know singing, but my fair level of sanity allows me to say that more than half of the auditioners are either under-talent or simply, literally crazy. Many of them really wants to win, but quite a number just wants to make a scene. Their gimmicks run from the unique to the unusual to the utterly embarassing. Yet that doesn't stop them from making a fool of themselves--on millions of TV screens worldwide.
Where do they get such face? Thinking of wearing their shoes (cosutmes) mortifies me. A million eyes watch them murder their reputations, but they just wouldn't stop (the show just had its fifth year, the next is coming). It's like being a pointless laughing stock is the most thing to do! Viva, bravado!
Then again, all has not been for naught. They are working on their dreams, after all -- grabbing that chance (and obviously screwing it up) to come one step closer to stardom. To hell with sheer embarassment, and who needs dignity, I'm gonna be a star! And where I am in life right now, that doesn't sound bad at all.
Time to make my own move: up the stakes in this wicked game that is life. I can't forever be just another contestant. My plans would seem weak--not to mention, financially impaled--but I need to take risks if I want excitement back into my diary.
You got it. I am about to make a fool of myself -- and I am not scared.