You may have noticed I didn’t update yesterday; that wasn’t an accident. Starting this week I’m cutting my updates down to twice a week.
This has everything to do with all the stuff going on in my life that have nothing to do with the blog. I love writing, but between this site and the others I write for, three times a week was getting a bit rough. Cutting it down to twice a week should make things easier.
With that said, today’s post has nothing to do with money, but is still interesting.
While running some errands a few weeks ago, a local DJ announced the new Sim’s game featuring Katy Perry. When asked about it, Perry said,
“I always like to think of myself as a cartoon, and now I’m a Sim.”
I groaned inwardly at the thought of another ridiculous way to use fame to make money and tried to push the whole thing out of my mind.
But her words, “I always like to think of myself as a cartoon…” stuck with me. They rattled around inside my head and wouldn’t let me go.
I started to think about what they mean.
Maybe I’m taking her words too far, but the thought of Katy Perry thinking of herself as a cartoon made me deeply sad. I wondered what she saw when looking in the mirror. Does she see anything but the lie? Has “Katy Perry” taken over her life?
Is there a real Katy Perry left?
I think about her divorce, her lyrics, the way she dresses. It’s all a game — a lie.
Does she have anyone who knows her and not just the persona she’s created? Is there anyone in her life that wants something besides a cartoon?
I have no idea, and since I’ve never spoken to the girl I’m sure I’ll never find answers. But they still rattle around in my head; they still weigh on my heart.
How many young girls look up to Katy Perry? How many men dream of her? Do their dreams squash away what’s left of the person underneath?
Am I Any Different?
With all the sadness, also comes a bit of fear — and maybe some clarity.
Am I the same as her? I may not be exploited the way she is, but there is a persona I create to hide my insecurities. There is a cartoon version of myself that I show to the world as the weight of the truth presses my heart.
Am I really so different from her? Are any of us?
I’m sure she’s dealing with issues I’ll never begin to consider and making choices I’ll never be offered. But still, in my sadness I find introspection.
Which parts of my life are cartoons? Which parts aren’t real? Those are the parts of life that need to be put to death. Those are the things I need to let go.
It’s never healthy to live as a lie.