Illusions
As I sit here on my last day in Vegas, I find myself ruminating on the City of Illusion. Everything can seem magical in Vegas. A flash of gold, water hurling majestically in the sky, flames licking the dry air desparate to sustain its fleeting moments of grandeur. The spectacle of Vegas can be alluring. And there has always been a showgirl just dying to do a fan kick to the audience. If only I could get my chance.
The reality of Vegas is banal. Entertainers must audition, looks must be maintained, and money needs to flow. You either come big or go home with shattered dreams. It preys on the emotions of those desparate to release the pent up energy of our mundane lives. The ultimate escape: to burst in the flame until we, like the moment, seek to sustain our glory. We make a spectacle of ourselves, an illusion of our own personalities. In the end we give that high kick and hope for applause. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. After we return home, we will honor its tradition and let others believe in the illusion as well.
As I reflect on my own life I wonder what illusions have I created for myself. In the mirror I see someone I don't want to be. My beauty is on the inside. But the mirror reinforces what others have said: that I am ugly on the outside. Have I taken on that illusion and am no longer able to see past that? Would a thin coat of vaneer enable the illusion for others to see? By making my outside shiny, would the inside then have the proper vehicle to move those around me? Or is it just that... Putting lipstick on a pig.
Over the last years I have been saving up to get vaneers for my teeth. Here in the eleventh hour I am suddenly terrified of the difference it will make. Is it really the outside that needs fixing or the inside? Has this been my illusion that I am unwilling to admit? Maybe it will make me a showgirl, but will it make me fabulous? Or will I just be another spectacle to watch. Will it instill some self confidence I am obviously lacking? Already I am growing feelings of resentment towards all the people who can't see past their own illusion of who I am. To see the beauty within. Instead I foster my own illusion of never being hurt.
The show must go on. Create your own illusions and allow others to cultiate theirs. In the end the showgirl does her job and sheds the illusion. I think I need to learn a lesson from her.
The reality of Vegas is banal. Entertainers must audition, looks must be maintained, and money needs to flow. You either come big or go home with shattered dreams. It preys on the emotions of those desparate to release the pent up energy of our mundane lives. The ultimate escape: to burst in the flame until we, like the moment, seek to sustain our glory. We make a spectacle of ourselves, an illusion of our own personalities. In the end we give that high kick and hope for applause. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. After we return home, we will honor its tradition and let others believe in the illusion as well.
As I reflect on my own life I wonder what illusions have I created for myself. In the mirror I see someone I don't want to be. My beauty is on the inside. But the mirror reinforces what others have said: that I am ugly on the outside. Have I taken on that illusion and am no longer able to see past that? Would a thin coat of vaneer enable the illusion for others to see? By making my outside shiny, would the inside then have the proper vehicle to move those around me? Or is it just that... Putting lipstick on a pig.
Over the last years I have been saving up to get vaneers for my teeth. Here in the eleventh hour I am suddenly terrified of the difference it will make. Is it really the outside that needs fixing or the inside? Has this been my illusion that I am unwilling to admit? Maybe it will make me a showgirl, but will it make me fabulous? Or will I just be another spectacle to watch. Will it instill some self confidence I am obviously lacking? Already I am growing feelings of resentment towards all the people who can't see past their own illusion of who I am. To see the beauty within. Instead I foster my own illusion of never being hurt.
The show must go on. Create your own illusions and allow others to cultiate theirs. In the end the showgirl does her job and sheds the illusion. I think I need to learn a lesson from her.