Lance Bass held up an all-caps, handwritten 8”x11” loose-leaf notebook sign that read “Not Taylor Swift” while at the Super Bowl two days ago. And now, as I sit in a too-hot bath, knowing I’m late to write a post, with procrastination’s fuel at my fingertips, I’m ready to spit at ya.
What’s with America’s obsession with celebrities anyway, I think, after reading people’s comments about a VH1 awards show where Taylor altered the script by not jumping off a platform into a group of men, instead galloped in stilettos down stairs to the front stage before finishing the song. One commenter’s perspective is that she’s perpetually stuck in high school, exchanging friendship bracelets and landing the high school jock. Another comes to her defense, telling them that she donates all this money while on tour and takes care of her crew handsomely.
When reading these perspectives, my head jerks to the left, right, and back again. I see your point and definitely agree with yours then onto a whoa, where’d that come from? Retracing my steps, back to the big ball game, I am intrigued by my own interest in who was seated in her box seat at the game – Blake Lively and Lana del Ray.
Who are these people to her, I wonder. Is this love she’s found for real? How did she feel about Travis’s push to his coach, which almost made him fall over to the ground? I told a friend yesterday, “I’m not okay with that shove,” as if it’s my own sister with her boyfriend outside the porch slider at Thanksgiving dinner.
Oh no, I think, am I one of the obsessed?
Tomorrow I can go back to worrying about the rest of America, for tonight I’m worried about me. How in the heck do I do a celebrity detox when everywhere I swipe on my phone, her blonde curly locks and red lips pop up on the screen? Just the other day I heard someone talk about her influence on their 16-year-old and how Taylor “is such a good role model.”
I think my problem with role models – out there – not in our sphere of knowing, is that we don’t actually know. I don’t know her. And yet all the pieces the media shows make me think I do. But it’s illusory, an image created to represent the girl next door. She is Americana. And to define Americana: It’s a collection of things that are characteristic of the United States, like apple pie, baseball, and the flag. And it’s funny that a documentary from a couple years ago about her is actually titled “Miss Americana” and casts her in that light, a product of America, and our obsession with fame.
I’m not done with this topic, in fact, I feel like I’m just scratching the surface. But like I said, I’m late to getting to this and need to jet. Before I go…
I’m so glad that Jon Stewart’s wisdom is back on Comedy Central’s airwaves once a week for the next six months, “The work of making this world resemble one that you would prefer to live in is a lunchpail fucking job: day in and day out,” he said. “I’m not saying you don’t have to worry about who wins the election. I’m saying you have to worry about every day before it and every day after. Forever. Although, on the plus side, I am told that, at some point, the sun will run out of hydrogen.”
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 