3/3/96
Guess what everybody? Last night, a few short hours ago, I was again seriously considering cancelling this wonderful web page before it ever reaches public eyes. And no, this time it's not because I'm afraid I'll wound Madonna's weak little heart. Actually, I wasn't really sure why, so I went on a long 2 hour midnight walk all around the bike trails of Louisville. As I walked, I was able to sort out a great deal of thoughts and feelings.
As I stolled, a clear sky with a full moon above me, I started trying to guess the reason I would have for not wanting to publish this. At first, it was my usual excuse: she's twice my age. I quickly refuted this, as age becomes insignificant in matters of true love. I was still feeling like I hadn't figured it out, so I kept soul searching. Maybe I'm nervous because those around me might be adversely affected by fame. I feel I'm as ready as I'll ever be to deal with it, but what about my friends and relatives? Madonna even touches on this subject in Truth or Dare herself. But I cannot allow my life and self expression to be constricted for fear that someone else might get their toes stepped on. I won't allow myself to be miserable to keep everyone else safe.
Even after all this, I didn't feel that I had gotten to the root of my anxiety. There was something else, something elusive, some feeling I couldn't quite define. So, after trying, off and on, to focus for a while, I let my mind wander as I marveled at the beauty of the night sky. The temperature was perfect, and since I was the only one wandering the trails at that time of night, I felt like I owned the world.
After a while, my thoughts returned to my newly acquired job. It had been my first day, and it was exhausting. When I had gotten home, I told myself I was going to reward myself with diversions, as I did do throughout the course of the evening. I wasn't even going to give a single thought about the new work, as I would have plenty of time to do that tomorrow (now it's today) when I would go back.
Well, guess what? When I let my mind leisurely review the events of the day, I discovered the root of my problem. Before I go on, let me say that my new job is like any other. It has strong points and weak points, things I like and things I don't like, and there is fun work in it as well as some gruelling duties. I challenge anyone to tell me there's a line of work that doesn't have all these characteristics. What makes the difference is how you deal with the situation.
And THIS was where I got myself into trouble. Every time the work got uncomfortable, I'd console myself by thinking about Madonna. I'd dream of the possibility that maybe she'd come and rescue me from all my troubles. Even if such a thing never actually happens, it's fun to think about it. Just a fantasy, right? After all, if thinking these things helps me to cope with everyday problems, why not? It's really not such a bad idea. Certainly better than becoming a grouch and getting mad everytime something I don't like ends up happening, right?
Wrong. This was a very bad idea. It was such a bad idea that it was causing my stomach to turn knots, and I didn't even know why. Now, after my long, contemplative walk, I do. It is, in effect, the classic damsel in distress tale with the twist of a gender reversal. Seeing it happen to my mind also made me aware of the subtle cruelty toward women in our culture's history. When I first started hearing Madonna talk in interviews about how all truly powerful women are feared and scorned, I didn't buy it. After putting my mind on the female's side of a tale seemingly older than time, I have to admit that what I have discovered is pretty scary.
We all know the story. The big bad evil monster has captured the princess and put her in a dungeon. It is now the duty and the honor of the knight in shining armor to go and bravely rescue the poor dame. Of course, he, having good on his side, always wins after a long and brutal battle against the beast. The princess is saved, and all is well in the kingdom again.
Pretty good story, isn't it? I always thought so. I guess a lot of other people do too, because we've all seen that theme played out ad infinitum in cartoons, television shows, story books, movies, school plays, video games, romances, and even in people's everyday lives. It's like the same story gets repeated over and over from the crib all the way to the death bed. Doesn't anybody ever get sick of it? I never did, until I started doing mental experiments on myself using fantasies which have an air of possibly to become realities.
I mean, in my case, if Madonna does see this web page, she has an opportunity to essentially fulfill the role of the prince who rescues the dame. Since her life has been compared to practically every fairy tale, from Cinderella to The Pied Piper (somebody's getting a red face around here), why shouldn't she get in on the most overused story line of all time? And being the cultural rebel and masculine-like figure that she is, why shouldn't she play the role of the male?
Of course, she'd need a princess to rescue, and I would be happy to accomodate her in this, as I'm sure thousands of other males who are reading this would. It would be fun, wouldn't it? Having an overwhelmingly powerful being like her whisk you away to paradise and love you perfectly forever and ever. What a fantasy!
So, I let my mind drift into it. The best kind of escapism is that which has a flavor of potentially becoming real. Anytime I felt like somebody wasn't being nice to me at my new job, I'd let my mind imagine what it would be like when Madonna would come parading in, take me by the hand, and lead me away. (Actually, all the people I've met so far at my new place of employment have been really friendly and kind. I just have hypersensitive tendencies, so almost anything (even nothing) is enough to drive me into a paranoid state of mind. That's another part of what it's like to be me.)
After coming home, relaxing for a while, getting back out and breathing the fresh, dark air, and letting my mind become calm and natural, I was able to see the problem with my thinking. In our fairy tale, exactly what are the damsel's options? What can she do to affect the outcome of the plot? How many choices does she get to make? There aren't any. Nothing. Zero.
Can't you just see the internal struggle she faces as she makes the decision to scream, "Help me! Help me, Prince Handsome! Come quickly! I want to go back to the castle with you. Please! Help me! Help me! He's going to hurt me! Quickly! quickly!" I can just imagine the strength of character it must require to utter those words of urgency. I tell you, we need more strong women like that in our society!
Needless to say, after I played that mentality out for a while, I started feeling pretty powerless. In fact, one of the thoughts that passed through my head, while I was examining possible reasons not to publish, was that maybe I didn't have the energy to do it. Gee, I wonder why. Maybe if I start screaming "Help" a little louder, I'll get up a little more energy.
Actually, another thought has hit me just now as I write. In this metaphor, my entire web page would the the damsel's cry for help. Maybe I should play into the role a little better. These complete sentences which use multi-syllable words don't seem to fit the part too well.
Please Madonna, come rescue me. I'm drowning. Throw out your rope. (Ok, I'll stop using her lyrics. But it's too hard for me to think up any original material. I'm just a poor little guy that needs her help.) help.... help.... help.... help.... help.... help.... help.... help.... help....
Oh God, that's boring. Didn't she have anything better to do? Maybe she could've drawn a picture of his castle on the dungeon wall using a piece of charcoal. Oh right. Blondes are too dumb to draw pictures. I get it.
Well, I had some other thoughts to express, but it's way past my bedtime, and I have to work in the morning. So I'll save the rest of my "help"s for another time. Oh, Madonna. If you do decide that you want to rescue me from my pathetic little meaningless life, why don't you wear something pretty?
Alright, alright. I'll get some sleep.