Woe is me , I am only human, and by saying only I give the illusion of an insufficient "man". When the word says I am wonderfully and beautifully made. The voices inside one's head tell lies that unfold in the dark. We choose to believe other peoples opions of us over our own. Who knows who better? When I tell my three year old son vegetables give him muscles and make him stronger he believes me and tries out his new knowledge of his new found strength. Like him you and I were also three once. Where did that confidence go and can it be salvaged?
I watched the Red Carpet Reviews of the Oscars. I watched it with the television muted with a tranquil melody playing in the background. Soft music makes the most mundane occasion dramatic. I wanted to enjoy the parade of people in elaborate designer creations without any interruptions from the Na-Sayers. I wanted to take it all in. These are pieces I would not have been available for my eyes to enjoy if not for these people and there celebration. I looked in the eyes of Scarlett Johannson , Michelle Williams, Nicole Kidman, and Jennifer Hudson. Now better known as J. Hud. Just to name a tiny few. J. Hud, celebrated for losing over 80 pounds, and consoled for having tragically lost her mother and nephew is a most horrific manner, just a short time ago. However because her breast appeared to be in an uncomfortable predicament , she was worst dressed. What happened to the compassion we had for this woman?
These women set there minds to do something and are fulfilling there purpose. I imagine them practicing there lines in the bathroom of an important audition just before there name was called, singing for anyone who would listen, working on this project and that just to have it fall flat until finally, depriving themselves brownies to fit into the wardrobe selected for them for a body-type only a mannequin should have to replicate, and praying with clinched fist to be good enough. Tears dripping from their chin from another failed call-back. Wishing on shooting stars for people to like them and maybe , one day love them. Spend time and money perfecting there craft in the hopes of one day being applauded for there tireless efforts and have there names remembered.
I must admit I too am guilty of criticizing, and tearing down another woman. I have learned from my mistakes. I've learned that in tearing her apart I also hurt. I now put even more pressure on myself to be something I was never intended to be and with any mercy we will live on this Earth for sometime, one day that woman you 've judged could be you.
As I watched these million dollar women sway across the red-carpet of agony I envisioned myself breathing there breath and looking out of there eyes. It was exhilarating and I felt like Cinderella at the Ball. The air was fresh, newness resonated through the atmosphere. I was amongst societies elite. I was confident, attractive, rich, famous, all the above. I also was nominated for the umpteenth time with no win an wearing an "off the runway" design worn best by the model.
When is good enough, good enough? Designer dresses are marvelous. Fashion is art and everyone is intiled to there own interpretation of it. We put these people up on a pedestal just to watch them come crashing down. I thought we were a civilizted nation, not blood thirsty savages.
Give up the, "I love you as long as..." attitude and adopt a more neutral approach. After all these are the people that give us the words to say, when they just won't come out right in the songs they create. They show us ourselves in the roles they play on scene. Don't we owe them a little appreciation?
Think about it