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.
Our country is in debt until forever, we don't have jobs, and we live in fear. We have invaded a country and been responsible for thousands of deaths.
The more people that the government puts in jails, the safer we are told to think we are. The real terrorists are wherever they are, but they aren't living in a country with bars on the windows. We are.