Lying Still

Words like distant stars Confusingly bright Spilling out in waves Before thought begins Seconds into minutes Time churning away Excuses take its place This convenient malaise In the name of comfort This lying still While the world goes by Mirror image quick And words like violence Cut harsh and cruel In this elemental haze Fraught … Continue reading Lying Still


american-idolIt is early morning, and there are 3,500 people packed into a giant room, all waiting to be called so they can show their stuff. Every single one of the other 3,499 people who sit there are poseurs though, because you — you are the next American Idol, and you almost feel sorry for those whose dreams will be crushed on this day. Then your number is called. You are supremely confident as you strut — yes, strut — into the room where the judges currently sit, waiting to tell you what you’ve known since you were young. They listen attentively — for 30 seconds before a hand is raised into the air. Your verdict comes.

Damn them, you think as you leave the room with their “No”s still ringing in your ears. It is late afternoon and your entire life has been invalidated. By that one simple word, multiplied by the power of three. That one word made you doubt every single loved one who told you how amazing your voice sounded in the shower every morning, every friend who went with you to karaoke and exclaimed how good you were, and every stranger who heard you singing at work and said, “Right on.” All of your faith in yourself, gone in the blink of an eye.

That’s because you tied all of your belief system up to one pie-in-the-sky idea, to an occupation that is hit-or-miss at best, one that spits out even some of the best voices and makes gruel of them. And honestly, you’re no Adam Lambert. So, why did all those people say you were the best they’d ever heard? BECAUSE IT COST THEM ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO SAY IT. See, they would have done you a better service had they been like my mother and told the truth. At least then you wouldn’t be sitting there on the curb outside of the American Airlines Arena looking like your dog just died, and questioning everything you ever thought you knew. Continue reading “Idolatry”