My Open Letter to Miss Miley

I've been on a bit of a blogging hiatus for a couple of weeks - life has been consistently kicking my ass and my involvement in many of my circles - the blogsphere included - has diminished. So, I'm back...just in time for Six Word Saturday.  You know how it works, so play along if you dare.  (The button will take you there.)

Six Word Saturday: My Open Letter to Miley Cyrus

Hey Miley,

I feel as though I owe you an apology.  I got caught up in it all - just for a second - and allowed myself to feel as though I had the right to judge your actions and outfits and music....and by extension - you (a little bit). And, really, one could argue that I do indeed have every right to pass judgement on a product that you contribute to the public forum for large-scale consumption.  One could take that argument a step further and say that you, yourself, are a type of produced commodity, and therefore fair game for judgment as well.  This is all a little bit besides the point.  So let me get to it.

You're 20 years old. I couldn't really care any less that you used to be Hannah Montana. I have no investment in you manitaining a squeaky clean image for our sake or that of you father's achey breaky heart. We all know what happens to Mickey Mousers and Family Channel child stars - they grow up - just like the rest of us.

We make crappy, shocking and controversial choices in behaviour, wardrobe and, if we are blessed with a record deal, music. When we are 20 years old, we are sometimes desperately, sometimes tragically, often hilariously, usually awkwardly, but almost assuredly testing out adulthood.  At 20, most of my friends were playing beer pong and flunking out of college....I was preparing to give birth to my first child. Test, test, test. For halloween they dressed as football players (see: jerseys and daisy dukes) and Army recruits (see: cropped shirts and fatigue-print daisy dukes). My friends went to clubs and participated in wet t-shirt contests and experimented with drugs. Sounds a bit like your music videos and performances.  The only difference is that we didn't do it on t.v. (well, not usually and not on purpose - whole different story).

So, here's the point of my letter: you're 20. You're creating/developing/testing your identity and we get to watch.  We may not like it.  We don't have to buy it.  Most of us are going to judge it -- it is an occupational hazard as an entertainer.  But I'd just like to say that I think I get it. You have the resources to twerk your way into adulthood under very different circumstances that most of us did/do. You have resources like Justin and Britney and Christina....all of whom have gone under public scrutiny for issues from hair to wardrobe and beyond.  At the end of the day, our lives are no better or worse because of their fluctuating diets, latex dresses or a flopped singles.

In short: my experience tells me that the public won't be talking about this (or you) forever. So, (as the cool kids say) let the haters hate! Your album sales are booming because of it and the longer you're on our minds and blogs, the more lucrative your career.  And that's the point, isn't it, Miley?....at least for now.

Sincerely,
The Single Chick

6WS

Should you trust a "gut feeling?"

Emotionally, things are great.  When you're together he makes you feel special, beautiful, like the only woman in the world.  He speaks to you kindly, shows you physical attention, opens and holds every door for you. He says he wants to be your best friend, to be the one you can confide in. He wants you to feel as though you can tell him anything,  because you can he says. He walks closest to the road so that you feel safe. He calls you his lady and stands to greet your friends.  He may have genuinely never heard the news bulletin that chivalry has apparently kicked the bucket - nope, in his world it is alive and well, and training to participate in the Iron Man challenge next month.  This man makes you feel really, really good in your heart.  You just may be able to fall for this guy.

Intellectually, things make sense.  He is gainfully employed in his field of choice.  You are well aware of the economic reality of your society and that employment is not guaranteed these days, but he is also fairly level-headed and ambitious.  He's shared his plan B. He works hard - that's a plus.  He asks about your son and family. He is financially responsible.  There are a few areas that need some work - communication, for example.  However, he is also aware of his areas for improvement and you are comfortable with giving him the space and time to make the improvements that he has identified that he would like to work on.  Self-directed self-improvement - you can get down with that.  Intrinsic motivation, you go boy!

So then, why is your gut still unsure.  There is not logical or emotional reasoning to it, but something between your sternum and your pelvis is unsettled at the thought of the possibility of true exclusive commitment and longevity with this person.

When everything else adds up, how much stock should we put in a gut feeling?

Join in the Six Word Saturday party that's happening over in Call Me Cate's part of the world. The button will take you there. (It's almost magic!)