Mewsings from Lowecat (aka Indianacat)

My rants, ravings, and overall 'mewsings' on life, the universe, and everything.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

The Not So Glamourous Life

I can honestly say I've never heard an Amy Whitehouse song. After leaving the broadcast business in the mid 80s, I found myself kinda tunin' out from 'the hits from coast to coast'. Today's hits don't make sense to me, which is probably why I don't understand the Hannah Montana, Lady Gaga, Justin Biebur, and other crazes out there. The only thing I do know is that those crazes are like the David Cassidy/Bobby Sherman/Monkees/KISS crazes of my wanton youth.
OK, enough waxin' poetic about 'that music' (Gawd, I sound like my parents!). Bascially, we everyday people who work 40 hours a week for a living look at the celebrities and think 'Lucky them! They have money and fame. They have it easy!'
But when you look at the endless list of celebrities who have had their souls ripped up and splashed all over the tabloids, you tend to wonder if they're really livin' the so-called glamourous life. (And now I have that Sheila E song on heavy rotation in my head!).
Do today, when I checked email, the server's news led off with the news that Ms. Whitehouse was found dead in her London home. It really didn't affect me except to feel sad that someone so young and with so much potential had died. Then I read of her problem with drugs. THAT got my attention.
Whether a celebrity is an actor/actress, musician, or a former star, we seem to forget that they are people, with the same wants/needs/desires as the rest of us. They want to be loved not just for what they are (the star), but who they are (the person). Their time is not their own, nor is their space.
I don't know what makes a person turn to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain of living. Didn't even understand it when a former boyfriend kept returnin' to shootin' up and drinkin' up to numb the reality of every day life (hence the former). He eventually died at the age of 54 of his demon addictions.
A good friend of mine, Frost Stillwell, who up until May could be heard on KFI AM each Sunday night, summed it up well. I quote: "Amy Whitehouse dead. Like Anna Nicole Smith, we laughed as celebrity druggie entertained us. We call them stars and applaud them on stage, yet we know they are doomed to self destruction. It's sad to realize troubled people live with a lethal buzz just to endure being themselves. When they inevitably snuff it all out and fade to black, it makes you wonder if they ever enjoyed their life at all."


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