Cheer up, sleepy Jean
Years ago I made a vow to avoid the news. Not because I wanted no knowledge of current events, but because it finally dawned on me how skewed and sensationalistic nearly every media outlet had become.Of course I wanted to find some news source that I could trust to remain impartial and purely state facts, but that was a task akin to joining a dating site frequented by convicts. Sure, they may seem sincere and may even say nice things at first, but eventually they're going to reveal something horrible. OK, that's a really bad analogy, but basically, I'm sick and tired of being repulsed and horrified by the news! So, I try and stay away from television news only to find myself reading news stories online. So much worse. Why? Because most online news sources have a comments section. SO MUCH WORSE!
Why can't I stay away from it all? Because I'm an information junkie? Because I'm a glutton for punishment? Or maybe I'm just a busy body that needs to know what people are doing and saying about everything all the time. For every story about Afghanistan, Syria, gay marriage, birth control, or fucking Rush Limbaugh, I seek the opinion of others who feel the way I do. And they're out there. Unfortunately, for every intelligent, well-thought out comment, there are too many more that make me want to throw my computer against a wall--and I have a feeling that's going to happen one day.
I'm just so tired of being annoyed by these assclowns. Rush Limbaugh, Rick Santorum, Kirk Cameron and their followers are not worth my time or energy. I really need to make more of an effort to rise above it all.
And on top of it all Davy Jones is dead. His passing has really hit me hard--even harder than when when John Lennon was shot or when DeadMusicianLove died--not because I had a crush on him or hoped to meet him someday, but because the Monkees and their music was such a constant in my life. They sowed the seeds of my sense of humor, as well as my appreciation of bubblegum, bluegrass, garage and psychedelia. I was the 10 year old girl who, with her friends, pretended to be in a band that just happened to date the boys in the Monkees. I was the teenager that was there for their reunion shows in the 80s (I lost count of how many I attended) and bought the reissues of their albums and basically everything else Rhino put out. I was the grown up person that bought the Justus CD, unashamedly went to their 30-year reunion concerts and taped the comeback specials. Met Peter, met Micky, saw Davy play Vince Fontaine in Grease. Damn, you, Mike for never being there. Overall, when things weren't so great, knowing that the Monkees existed made things less horrible. It was comforting to know that every 10 years or so they'd be back. That can't happen anymore.
But life goes on. We spill our guts on our old LJ page and move on, remaining the eternal optimist despite all odds and appearances, and remembering to take a few moments to do the Davy Jones dance from Daydream Believer.
Why can't I stay away from it all? Because I'm an information junkie? Because I'm a glutton for punishment? Or maybe I'm just a busy body that needs to know what people are doing and saying about everything all the time. For every story about Afghanistan, Syria, gay marriage, birth control, or fucking Rush Limbaugh, I seek the opinion of others who feel the way I do. And they're out there. Unfortunately, for every intelligent, well-thought out comment, there are too many more that make me want to throw my computer against a wall--and I have a feeling that's going to happen one day.
I'm just so tired of being annoyed by these assclowns. Rush Limbaugh, Rick Santorum, Kirk Cameron and their followers are not worth my time or energy. I really need to make more of an effort to rise above it all.
And on top of it all Davy Jones is dead. His passing has really hit me hard--even harder than when when John Lennon was shot or when DeadMusicianLove died--not because I had a crush on him or hoped to meet him someday, but because the Monkees and their music was such a constant in my life. They sowed the seeds of my sense of humor, as well as my appreciation of bubblegum, bluegrass, garage and psychedelia. I was the 10 year old girl who, with her friends, pretended to be in a band that just happened to date the boys in the Monkees. I was the teenager that was there for their reunion shows in the 80s (I lost count of how many I attended) and bought the reissues of their albums and basically everything else Rhino put out. I was the grown up person that bought the Justus CD, unashamedly went to their 30-year reunion concerts and taped the comeback specials. Met Peter, met Micky, saw Davy play Vince Fontaine in Grease. Damn, you, Mike for never being there. Overall, when things weren't so great, knowing that the Monkees existed made things less horrible. It was comforting to know that every 10 years or so they'd be back. That can't happen anymore.
But life goes on. We spill our guts on our old LJ page and move on, remaining the eternal optimist despite all odds and appearances, and remembering to take a few moments to do the Davy Jones dance from Daydream Believer.