A dear friend once told me to write no matter what I do just write. Take five mins to write down any thoughts, ideas or feelings. I should make a promise to do this everyday. What happens is that word or sentence turns into a paragraph and that paragraph turns into a blog post. This is the process of a blogger.
Thank you Paulie for the sound advice, you are a truly great friend & a champion I am honored to have in my corner.
I say this because as of late I have been uninspired to do something I love to do “write”. Writing is my passion. I love to see the thought process behind the madness. Taking one single idea turning it over to my imagination creating a world on a blank canvas that didn’t exist before. I used to write clever, engaging blogs, reviews about reality TV stars, the episodes they appear in, TV interviews and personal appearances.
Dead End Street
I have nothing that is all-inspiring that would motivation me to write a blog. I been this way for a while. It’s like I packed my things got into my car and started driving on a road to nowhere. Then maybe twelve hours into the drive, I see the bright lights of a city that looks to be a great place to call home. Here in this city is a gated community with many side streets and one cul-de-sac. Through this mazes of streets in this gated community, I found myself parked on the one cul-de-sac. This dead-end street at first appears to be very compelling, appealing and beautiful very seductive, so seductive that I felt a natural high of a euphoric feeling and satisfaction. But was I really satisfied? In this community I felt as if I was someone special. I am intriguing, interesting and beautiful. I was someone who’s beauty was witty and charming so I stayed. It was fun and exciting in the beginning but slowly I found that my personality started to change. I started trolling and trolling hard. I didn’t think about the words that’s coming from my keyboard. Honestly what ‘s there to think about I was getting recognition, gaining more “likes”. My popularity soared. My head became full it’s was like I was drunk on social media fame. I didn’t have any problems tearing down people, women whom I never met just ripping them apart.
The Social Media Monster
The more vicious I was the more “likes” I got. I became more combative, competitive, obsessive, compulsive and unapologetic just down right nasty. Traits that I don’t like in others I found dancing there in my soul. In other words the very thing I disliked I was becoming a “Social Media Monster”. With my new found personality, I craved to be like those characters on reality show. I was completely addicted. It’s like I popped a little red pill and jumped down the rabbit hole. I kept coming back for more. My family and friends express their concerns but when you have an addictive personality you can’t NO you don’t want to see the forest for the trees. It wasn’t until I journeyed to a taping of a late night show that caters to reality TV that I realize what I have become.
What does a priority ticket get you? A long wait time in a line before the regular seating and a seat up in the mezzanine far from the action. How I got the priority ticket well I had to sit through many tapings of crappy games shows to be rewarded Priority. After jumping through hoops I was very excited to be in the same room with some of the biggest reality TV stars. I had high expectations, SHAME ON ME! I found myself in an area with other fans age group of forty something. The fans screams falling on deaf ears. It was as if the Rolling Stones was on stage. Unlike the Stones these housewives didn’t give a damn. The host was just as bad. During the commercial breaks a sea of people flooded the stage. Handlers, management, glam squad and assistants all rush the stage. Touching up and checking out oh yes. On TV it all seems so connected with the host and guest being engaged. The reality is there’s disconnect which is very cold and uneven.
Here’s the humiliating part, standing there waiting in “priority line” a crew or more like staffers from the show comes down the line asking if we had questions for tonight guest. I can’t remember my question but the staffer than writes down my question and a number on a piece of paper hand it to me asked me to hold it up. He then takes my photo with a fucking iphone. I quickly realized my question would never see the light of day because I don’t look the part. If you watch reality TV you know what I am speaking about. All of a sudden I felt like I was in high school again. Dealing with the bullshit of trying to fit in. Everything I worked hard to overcome is now back in my head like a sixty foot wave crashing into the beach. At that moment my armor all but disappeared.
RÉPARER MA ARMURE! is French for Repair My Armor I choose this because it was the first sentence I learned to speak in French.
Now inside at my seat I am watching the taping trying to take all of it in convincing myself that I belong here and I’m just as good if not better. The lucky industry people, friends and family of the show and the guest flooded the stand room only area where the questions were asked. People screaming carrying on as the taping comes to a close I thought here’s my chance I going to meet my idol. C O C K E D * B L O C K E D. No Bueno for you my friend. I made it all the way to the stage only to be escorted off.
No Nobody’s Allowed
I reminded of Snoopy when he had a date with Peppermint Patty on the beach as he enter he was kicked out with the reply “No Dogs Allowed” yeah that’s how I felt “No Nobody’s Allowed” Only the beautiful have that right. I walk out of the venue towards the back door again thinking to myself okay Sunny, here’s your last chance as I go for it COCKED * BLOCKED Again! The guest had a small military of armed bodyguards escorting them to their vehicles. I left feeling very exhausted, very defeated and empty. My sister worked late that night, on the way home I told her about my night. My sister reply was very straight forward “well you know nothing about reality TV is real”. Little did I know things were about to change.
Répare Mon Armure
Irony: a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result.
About a month later I found myself back at the Wiltern one of the best places to see a rock band to see Franz Ferdinand. The irony weeks before I was there for that awful taping and now I’m sitting in the exact same seat ready to rock out. When I was there for the taping I felt disappointed. I didn’t notice the marquee, in fact I walked right by it twice. Thankful I have champions that had my back letting me know about this show. I have seen FF a few times over the past ten years the last being Coachella, however, this time was different. Taking my seat, I look up and see a familiar face. My concert friend Trudie screaming out my name. We hugged ordered drinks and shoot the shot yep I was home.
Taking The Stage
As the band takes the stage I get a call from my Aunt Lily. She’s closest in age to my later mother. I was thinking oh no something’s up. She asked if I was okay and then started chatting about a post I made earlier that week. Lost Souls was the post and bless her heart she talked to me but it wasn’t the conversation that had me in tears it was the love behind it. As we hung up FF played “Feel The Love Go” now I’m in full blown weeping mode. My concert friend Trudie hugged me and we danced. Trudie would hold my hand during the entire concert I’m lucky to have met such an awesome person. As FF continue to play, frontman Alex was on point as always encouraging us to be the best humans we can be. I don’t know if it was fate or my mother spirit or both but the night was electrifying. Four months later that electricity will fill the air again with Def Leppard.
This blog was very difficult for me to write and complete. So many emotions. I’m not writing this to bash anyone. This post isn’t about a particular thing or reality TV or any of that. I forgot the one rule I live my life by and that’s to be kind even to those who don’t want to receive just be kind. I let myself go, I allowed myself to get sucked into bullshit. Now I’m out of the gated community, out of the city and in rehab so-to-speak. I haven’t written any blogs because I am taking the time to repair “mon armure”. As I stated in the beginning of this long blog, I’m a writer, I love to write. I started blogging because it gives me cathartic, euphoric feeling of being heard in a positive and sometimes funny way. Most importantly this is a form of self-expression. Yes I am a big mouth, book geek, first class nerd, sensitive, emotional, tough, rough, indecisive, independent, compassionate, caring, loving complex human being. All these things makes me who I am and I wouldn’t change that for anything. It took me awhile to get back here but I’m here now and I’m happy with the person in the mirror.
Battle Of My Own
Def Leppard (2015)
Dedicated To The Ones I Love
This blog is dedicated to my beautiful mother who gave me the world. To my loving sisters Renay, Rita, Yvonne my brothers Uncle Quin, Uncle Jr. for always giving me love when I need it. To my cousin Kim who is more than a cousin and a friend. To my BFF’s Nancy, Cameron, Tesha, Paul, David and Dee aka Blue Jasmine thank you for saving my life. My family, friends and all those who touched my life thank you!
Thank you Trudie you are a rock star!
To all the “Lost Souls” keep you head towards the sky know that you are someone and you are loved!
And a special “thank you” to the rockstar who showed the world how beautiful we all are. “AK”
Until next time….
For more reads in my Confessions of a Depressive Mind Series try these…..
Crying In The Shadows
My Big Brother
Confessions of a Depressed Mind
Over The Hump
Welcome to the Dance
In the Trenches
Diary of a Manic Depressive
Bite Your Lips
Chicken Soup for the Soul
The High Card
Closed for Business