I don't want to change the world. I just want to find my way back to it and when I get there- find my proper place in it. All this talk of knowing oneself and touching lives is lost on me. Folks know little about living their own lives and more about touching themselves. Nothing wrong with that. I don't judge. It doesn't sound half bad right about now. This Bug is taking flight. A sabbatical if you will. I don't know when I'll be back. At the expense of sounding disloyal to my blog- I have bigger tilapia to fry right now. So it's time to step back and handle, dismantle and reconstruct. It's either that or hire a life coach. We all know I don't have that kind of money so...sabbatical it is. Enjoy the past entries. I'm coming back like a comet. Be sure of it. Does that make me crazy? Wait and see.
So it's going on three years since I started This Bug's Life. No drum roll. No bells and whistles. I already got the 100th post out of my system. It's been a pretty good run and I can only hope to continue it. That being said- I'm still figuring out this whole 'Blogger' format. Recently, I discovered a neat little tab on the dashboard of my blog once I signed in. "STATS". It was there that a whole new world opened up to me. Of course it shows you how many page views you've gotten in a day, week, month, etc. and referring websites but that's not what caught my interest. There's list of the top key words that people Googled in order to reach my site. Much to my surprise (and some less so) I learned what led random traffic directly to This Bug's Life. Here goes:
assup - Call me slow, but it took me a second to realize that more than one person hastily typed in 'Ass Up' as in Uncle Luke's infamous chant, "Face Down, Ass Up. That's the way we like to F**k" and somehow wound up on my blog. Wowzas.
massaging a martini - I wish I knew what the hell this is supposed to mean. I really don't remember posting anything that involved massages and martinis simultaneously- but I'm officially inspired.
bug's life racist - As if! Actually, I know exactly what this is about. I got my hooks in Disney a while back and didn't let go. It's in the archives. Check it out. I pissed a few people off simply by shattering their flowery childhood memories of a few beloved cartoon classics. If pointing out the obvious facts makes This Bug a racist...let's discuss it. Seriously.
bitchwearingnodraws - Ha! I saw this one and thought, 'Classy huh?'. Then I saw how many folks have come across the Panty Free Friday I was thinking about petitioning for as a national holiday. Once you go Commando for a day- you'll understand why a 'bitch wearing no draws' is highly unoffensive when sought after in proper taste. Let's do this!
taxi cop- It's not a myth, People. They exist. It's sneaky. It's entrapment. And it's perfectly legal. Think about that the next time you decide to text with that yellow cab next to you at the red light.
Anyway, it matters very little what led you here. You got here. And made This Bug very happy in the process. Make it a Favorite. Bookmark it. Come back for more. You might be surprised at what you stumble upon. I know I was- and I write the damn thing.
I can never get enough of documentaries. All sorts. The human condition fascinates me. I stumbled upon Confessions of a Superherovia hulu.com and was riveted. The film surrounds four struggling actors who make their living by donning costumes and taking photos with tourists on Hollywood Boulevard. It's not an easy job. Not by a long shot. They work strictly off of tips and a good day falls squarely on the appeal of superheroes to the general public. That, and their charisma. Confessions focuses on the lives of the men and one woman behind the exteriors of Superman, Batman, The Hulk and Wonder Woman. Their stories are all different but equally melancholy.
Christopher Dennis is Superman. He bears a strange, malnourished resemblance to Christopher Reeves who even in death, is the most famous Superman to date. He takes his craft very seriously. In one scene, as quite the father figure, we watch him admonish Ghost Rider that image is so important- that he shouldn't smoke while in costume. It sounds a little priggish, until a later scene at Superman's apartment reveals an ashtray filled to the brim with cigarette butts. It's only then that you realize he is never seen smoking on the street while at work. He believes acting is in his blood; so much so that he claims to be the son of a famous actress. His delusions are equal parts sad and disturbing.
Max is Batman. He looks a little too much like George Clooney for the tastes of most casting directors and has a bit of a temper. An imposing presence. Perhaps we can attribute that to his previous line of work, which he alludes to as 'security' for a well known wiseguy- but I got the feeling it's just his frustration with not yet being successful in acting. News footage of his arrest for bullying a tourist really drives that assumption home.
Joe McQueen a.k.a. The Hulk moved to LA the day of the riots. He spent four years sleeping on the streets. Oddly enough, of his peers he was the closest to success in Hollywood having landed a bit part in a comedy about Bruce Lee's last film, Game of Death. My heart broke for him the most. He admits he's no looker and that his teeth probably hold him back from many roles. It's part of the reason he chose the Hulk as a profession- since it includes a massive head instead of a mask. Imagine wearing that all day in the hot California sun for hours on end. He actually blacked out one day when the temperature hit 106 degrees.
Wonder Woman grew up in a small town. Glee Club. Cheerleader. Homecoming Queen. The works. She had to escape. Made her way to LA. She got married on a whim in Vegas and visits an acting coach to fine tune her craft. Granted, she's not the preferred Size 2 that's the standard in Hollywood but she has faith. Drive. That counts for something on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
This movie stayed on my mind well after it was over. At times, it was uncomfortable to watch. Cringeworthy even. But always real. Aside from the straightforward style of each person telling their story- there is some amazing still photography in this film. Simply beautiful shots. They capture a vulnerability that is in stark contrast to what we commonly know of powerful superheroes. The real heroes of Confessions are not superhuman at all. They are in fact just like us; mere mortals with an irrepressible need to find their place in the universe.
I'm usually the last to catch on to trends or when videos go viral. I just don't pay much attention to that stuff. But a few days ago, Ted William's story spread like wildfire and I couldn't help but notice. By now, just about everyone knows about the man with the 'Golden Voice'. His story is the stuff rags-to-riches movies are made of. Born and raised in Brooklyn, he has exactly what his cardboard sign said he had. A God-given gift. I watchedthat video of him in absolute awe. Something about it told me he was on his way to some sort of come-up. I just felt it. The very next day- he was on the front page of the newspaper. Words cannot really describe what I felt when I saw it. It was a combination of my heart swelling coupled with a worry that he'd be thrust into the spotlight, unprepared for all that possibly awaited him. He literally went from panhandler to overnight sensation.
In what seemed like a virtual whirlwind of events, days later Ted Williams was on the lips of the national public and a fast track to a second chance at life. After years of homelessness and drug abuse he is at a turning point. He reunited with his 90 year old mother after more than 20 years. Job offers are pouring in. Williams is finally on the up side of life. I can't really explain the feeling I got when I saw his picture on the front page of the New York Daily News. I didn't know it was possible to be so happy for someone I had never even met. Something about the entire story restored my faith. One could credit technology for all of this. If not for Youtube and similar media outlets- none of us would have ever known about Ted Williams. But I'd like to think that it's deeper than that. I'd like to think that a higher power saw fit to bring him through his ordeals with his voice unscathed, a forgivable rap sheet and his belief intact. Ted Williams represents hope. In an economic climate where it takes less than a series of wrong turns and drug abuse to wind up on the streets- it gives me hope that anyone who can hit that far of a bottom may get a second chance to climb back to the top. God bless him.
Sometimes you have to fall back to come up. You may have to stop speaking to be heard. You have to disappear for people to really see you. Sometimes the most productive way to stay social is to be anti-social. And sometimes you have to treat someone like an associate for them to understand your friendship.
Over the years I've come to associate a few key things with New Years Eve. Champagne. Parties. The NYC Ball dropping. Kissing at the stroke of midnight. Singing Auld Lang Syne. It may be stereotypical but most of these things play a huge part in the New Year. Then there's the busy circuits. The non-stop text messages and people just all out giddy with the well-wishing. Leading up to that- everyone wants to know what you're doing that night. Where will you be? A lot of frenzy about being at the right place and not missing out. It's becoming less and less frenetic for me.
To me, it's similar to those women you see on Bridezillas. They are preoccupied with one day to the point where they seem a little crazy or off. They concentrate so much on the perfect wedding day that it seems they hardly give thought to the most important part; the rest of their lives. It's sort of like that with New Years Eve. People are whipped into this frenzy of being at the right place with the right people and bringing in the new year however they see fit. It seems that little energy is put towards making the entire year ahead prosperous.
So whether you spent it quietly amongst close friends and family or reveled amongst an anonymous crowd amid confetti and bubbly, I hope everyone is able to look forward and make the best of this fresh start. It's not about how you spent that night. It's about all the other days and nights that will follow. 2011 is full of possibilities that 2010 held. What will you do with them to make it different than last year? I'm not speaking of resolutions but rather the resolve that we move throughout each day with. What will you do with that? Hopefully, all that you can and more. God willing. On that note, I wish for everyone more love, more life, more prosperity.
