There's nothing sadder than the realization that there's a profound desire within you that you so desperately need to express, but that there's no one there to say it to who won't think of you as a pitiful fool. 

Oh, wait, there is one thing sadder: to have a desire that's so pitifully foolish in the first place.  

Accident

You accidentally called me "beautiful" once, when we were parting

I knew it was a mistake--you'd simply forgotten who you were talking to

But I took it anyway, even though it belonged to someone else

And I wasn't entitled to it--I took it like the thief that I am,

Because I've never come by anyone's adoring gaze honestly

Only beauty begets that sort of knee-jerk, spontaneous admiration

The rest of us must work to earn it through words and deeds

Digging down and forcing all that "inner beauty" to the surface

So that it creates a facade of forged loveliness,

Like an illustration drawn on a plain brown wrapper

You accidentally called me "beautiful" once,

And like any good pickpocket, I took advantage of your carelessness

I snatched it up before you knew you'd left it there, 

Pretending it was meant for me, knowing that it never was

And like that necklace that I took when I was a girl, 

I take it from its secret hiding place and try it on, making believe I deserved it

Facebookitis

Facebook. Ubiquitous, omnipresent...the distillation of our thoughts and feelings in the form of soundbites and snapshots, all poured into the melting pot--the Borg, if you will. All will be assimilated.

The lure of Facebook is the connectedness--the feeling like you are part of something larger than yourself, but within which you are somehow more free to be yourself. Or so it would seem.

 I find myself wanting to "please" the Borg...to present an offering worthy of attention. For this, there are really only three choices: say something witty, say something profound, or say something "universal," i.e., something with which everyone can agree. Of course, there is the newsfeed element, in which we post our major events, our comings and goings, to the public square. But that's its more mundane function. What it really demands of us other than news content is the service of the meme...the ongoing conversation...by contributing little tiny bits of our identity.

I don't post to it nearly as much as many of my friends do...I chime in on far more conversations than I start. And one of the main reasons is the aforesaid pressure to "perform." To create something worthy of the attention of the multitude. The other reason is because the things I really WANT to say...the things I really FEEL, are far too important to be trivialized by broadcasting them to many who are undeserving of my innermost thoughts. The madding crowd both giveth and taketh away...we simultaneously want to please them, to let them all know how witty and profound we can be, while also resenting and fearing the exposure. Facebook is a paradox: it promises a sense of intimacy while providing the cloak of safety in numbers.

There are moments when I am in such need of...something...validation? sympathy?...that I am compelled to open Facebook and compose a status update that reaches out to that universe, seeking a "like" or a comment...the answering back that says, "I hear you...you exist...and I understand you." But I can't seem to say the words, most of the time. Because the words I really want to say are too much...too overwrought...too revealing...too intimate or scary, to say in that forum. So I remain silent. But the lure of it is still overwhelming.

ashleyjuddenfreude

Ashley Judd "slapped the media" this past week for remarks made across several outlets over a 24-hour period after one comment about her face being "puffy" and the speculation that she'd "had work done." In its typical feeding frenzy fashion, other "journalists" picked up on the story and ran with it, leading to numerous unsubstantiated comments from people who'd never met her, including plastic surgeons, without one reporter or media outlet ever contacting Ms. Judd for verification or comment.

Many of the reporters or commentators were women, and therefore the thrust of Ms. Judd's reaction was lamenting the fact that all of this seems to be coming from a place of institutional or societal misogyny--that the patriarchal system, promulgated by both men AND women, creates an environment where women are objectified and devalued for anything other than their physical attributes, and that any "slippage" in that arena is celebrated by other women, ostensibly because this system puts all women in competition with each other for male approval.

She made a lot of salient points, and I tend to agree with most of what she said. However, I think one thing she kind of overlooked which plays a major role in all this is that maybe it's not nearly as much about misogyny, as it is about schadenfreude. I think people in general operate from a place of envy of ANYONE, male or female, who they think is smarter, prettier, richer, more talented, etc., than they are.

This isn't any new idea, this "we build them up so we can tear them down" relationship the pubic has with its celebrities. They do become icons or idols or metaphors larger than their own personal humanity--they are the archtypes on which we hang all of the Homeric and Sophoclean epics and tragedies--the same stories of the fatal flaws retold for our own generation. We project EVERYTHING upon them, reflecting the love-hate relationships we have with ourselves: our dreams of being beautiful and successful, our disappointment when we don't measure up. Which is where the schadenfreude really comes in handy...when we are disappointed with ourselves, we look to find someone or something else to distract us--something to say to us, "well, even the one I THOUGHT had everything, doesn't," and, though it's a shameful thing to admit, it makes us feel a little bit better about ourselves.

So in the context of Ms. Judd's experiences overall this past week or so, I think the picture is a little broader than just the ongoing "male vs. female" battle, but she was correct in calling to task the women that engaged in it--until women stop being complicit in their own degradation, the battle will rage on to their detriment.

But I don't know if that's even really possible--genetically, societally, biologically, anthropologically. We are animals wired for procreation, with a "survival of the fittest" edict encoded into our genes. Even with the vast, multi-faceted landscape that is modern, liberated, enlightened human sexuality, there is, at its core, this primal dance that was designed to bring the smartest and strongest of the species together to ensure its endurance, and we are, in spite of our evolved, self-actualized selves, slaves to our visceral reactions: if something is outwardly, visually pretty, IT ATTRACTS US. WE LIKE IT. We each may have different tastes of what we find most attractive, but there is that "Golden Ratio" that steers our instincts. Some people just ARE more attractive than the others, and, by virtue of that attractiveness, those people draw more attention, and ultimately have more choices and opportunities across the entire spectrum of what comprises a life, which, unfortunately, subjects them to the envy of others.

I guess my point here (or one of them, anyway--I'm admittedly all over the map, as usual), is that if it weren't for the fact that Ashley Judd was remarkably beautiful, intelligent, and talented to begin with, no one would bother to make these comparisons or comments about her. I'm not saying that makes it okay, or that she's fair game because she's a celebrity. But what I AM saying is that for the vast majority of people (like me) who fall just at or below "average" attractiveness/talent/intelligence, it's kind of difficult to raise the banner alongside her. I'm very happy to have her stand up for the cause that people shouldn't be judged by their attractiveness, but that's awfully easy for someone like her to say. And I guess I should be grateful that there are "beautiful" people who care about people like me, and, even moreso, about people so much less fortunate than I am, which she apparently does, as evidenced by her extensive work with numerous human rights causes. That certainly makes her a better person than me.

Which is why, sometimes, we all need a little shadenfreude. Or ashleyjuddenfreude.