Excepting Ameliaalone

New Blog Entry!

Ameliaalone — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 20:02:15 GMT

Everyone should go to www.amelialee33.blogspot.com and check out my latest blog entry. It's already received some positive feedback on Facebook, and I would love to get your opinions too!

--Amelia

Nauseating VMAs

Ameliaalone — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 19:18:39 GMT

Last night I watched the entire Video Music Awards for what turned out to be only about a 3-minute preview of the documentary about Michael Jackson's "This Is It" tour, and found out I must be getting old, because much of the show disgusted me.

One of the first performers was the much-lauded Lady Gaga, in what started out to be a very pretty skit with costumes and choreography--a new song of hers called “Paparazzi”. But then things just got weird. She was all in white, dancing with and in between others in white, but then one member of her entourage wheeled another actor onto the stage in a wheelchair, and everyone surrounded Lady G.. When she emerged “blood” started pouring from her chest. It was shocking and very strange. I've seen a lot of interpretations of "art" in all its forms, and gotten something out of it; if this was supposed to be art or some kind of statement, it was completely over my head.

The performance ended with the singer being hoisted up on a noose like she’d been hanged or hanged herself--weird. On a night where much was said about making the event a tribute to Michael Jackson, Lady G. seemed to have ignored the message, and made her whole performance about being chased by the paparazzi, who it’s common knowledge hounded Michael Jackson, spewing rumors and innuendo about him until it was obviously too much to take, until even an acquittal was not enough to undo the damage done by a horrendous, slanderous, heart-breaking trial.

I think Lady G. is only about 17 years old, so there’s a good chance she missed most of what Michael Jackson had to put up with. But somebody should have told this child that what she had in mind for a performance was just a little off-color considering what happened in June and that some of MJ's family would be at the show. Of course most of her audience were probably too young to know what MJ endured, but some of them must know about Princess Diana, right? She couldn't have known MTV was previewing MJ's documentary that night and that it would draw a lot of "old timers" like myself who loved him. Still...MTV should have been a little more cognizent of the diversity of their audience--in the end, all just music lovers.

Not to mention, there have been a long, long stream of celebrities hounded by the paparazzi to within--or beyond--an inch of their lives. How could she make light of that? Am I just not getting it? Am I that old and jaded at 27 that I have completely missed the point of what Lady Gaga was trying to say?

When she won an award later that night, she at least had the decency to declare it “for the gays,” which I took as an affront to the media that has lately accused her of being a hermaphrodite. I was glad she at least had the sense to be humble in that victory. But her performance seared itself onto my memory, and ruined the rest of the show. Luckily I found out when coming online to write this blog that the MJ preview is available for viewing--so in the future I can skip the whole head-pounding, stomach-churning, inappropriate, insensitive VMAs and just stay on the ironically "safe" side--the Internet the day after.

New Original Poetry!!

Ameliaalone — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 18:59:08 GMT

Instead of just posting them, I thought I'd direct you to a couple new poems of mine that are now on a website for Buddhist thinkers and just general philosophers. I hope you like my new work!

http://thegoldenlantern.com/poems/amelia/amelia3.htm

and

http://thegoldenlantern.com/poems/amelia/amelia4.htm

Missing Michael

Ameliaalone — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 01:59:00 GMT

I don't know about anyone else here, but I'm still kind of in disbelief that Michael Jackson is dead. I feel very alone in my grief, and it's been my experience that to share it with others helps a lot. I'm sure there must be some one out there who feels as badly as I do-- a little like I did on September 12, 2001-- walking around in shock like the walking wounded on a battlefield. So here's my attempt at articulating my (all too short) experience with MJJ.

Born right at the height of his popularity, I grew up listening to the "Bad" album. My mother used to sing "Smooth Criminal" to me when I was little because "Annie are you okay?" sounds like "Amy are you okay?" and she calls me Amy. I remember dancing to the Bad album with my best friend at the time, us calling ourselves Michael and Janet Jackson...my best friend was a boy, so this wasn't strange:)

A few years later I moved with my family from New Jersey to Michigan, and really didn't think about Michael very much for several years. In the early '90s we got "re-aquainted" when he released "You Are Not Alone." I was an extremely angst-ridden adolescent, and this song meant the world to me, as I often felt very, very alone.

During those years I read a biography of Michael Jackson that really exposed--even more so than his music--the amazing person this world would lose in 2009. He was such an unbelievable talent, and his heart was so big it baffles me.

He was tragic and beautiful, so tortured, so broken-- my heart could not help but go out to him. He was much deeper, much more sensitive, much more passionate than anything I could ever describe. My heart couldn't help but go out to him and wish him happiness.

I used to listen to his Dangerous album--new at that time--and I was so moved by his music I can hardly find the words. Michael loved everyone. As taboo as it is now to believe in him, I whole-heartedly endorse his aquittal of any wrong done to the kid whose family brought him to court.

I truly believe that once in a great while, there are people who live on a seperate plane-- like Vincent Van Gogh-- artists who are so tortured by the rigormorale and daily strain that they must live in their own world, lest they be destoryed inside by our own. Incidentally, Van Gogh is my favorite painter for this very reason; he was too fragile, too beautiful to live very long on this savage Earth. These men inspired me and made me miserable, broke my heart and touched my soul...it all sounds so trite, so corny I wish there was another way to say it, but I think sometimes the same words used over and over are appropriate--especially in remembrance.

This weekend I was numb to everything, even while visiting family and deciding where to move-- it's become an all-too-familiar feeling. My father died a year and a half ago, and a few years before that Johnny Cash, the musician I had always associated with my father. Though I knew Johnny was in bad shape toward the end of his life and I knew his heart was broken without June, I somehow always thought he would be alive. I never imagined living in a world without a living Johnny Cash. When he died, it was like my own father did. I cried and mourned his loss almost as much as Dad.

Michael Jackson was very similar. Though of course he bore no resemb;ence at all to my strong, wonderful father or the sweet-faced Johnny Cash, Michael had the same brilliance and kindness that those other two men in my life had. And I never imagined I would outlive him either. When it happened it was like some one had torn away a piece of my identity.

Michael sang "hold you" the same way I say "hold you" when cooing with babies or pets: he dropped the "l" so it sounded like "hoed" you. "Hoed me like the River Jordan..."

As a writer I'm feeling very lost, given the recent epidemic that seems to have stricken our entertainers. Farah Fawcett and Michael died on the same day, Billy Mays a day or two later, Ed McMahan...it's unbelievable who we've lost in such a short time. As a result of such sudden loss, my heart feels hollow. When some of the brightest stars suddenly fall, how do we light up the sky?

Forgive this rambling blog; I just needed to bleed out some of this putrid sorrow and try to feel whole again.

Old Style Poetry Meets Online Dating

Ameliaalone — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 17:29:51 GMT

I've recently become obsessed with the haiku style of poetry. I liked it before, but now I can't stop applying the ancient 5-7-5 rhythm to everything in my life. As I've mentioned before, my experience with online dating has been pretty dismal. This little haiku came from me trying to encapsulate all of those misadventures into a single 3 line poem. I hope you enjoy:)

So Much for Love
Pushed aside again
Can I take much more abuse?
Romance loves its toys

City Pride from Michelle's Garden

Ameliaalone — Sat, 23 May 2009 02:58:10 GMT

Although the recent cut back of the distribution of my beloved home-grown "Detroit Free Press" has given rise to the theft of our paper almost every Thursday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday, today I managed to get out to the edge of the driveway and snatch up my copy before one of my neighbors decided he deserved it more. And as usual these days, I found within the paper such a reason to hope, making me grateful and proud to be part of this city and this country whatever failings they may have.

The reason for such optimism was an entire section of the paper entitled "You Could Have Michelle's Garden," devoted to growing an organic garden like the First Lady's. I feel like it's the 1940s all over again--in the best way. As a nation we can look to our president and know that while he is living a privileged life, no doubt, he and his wife are working on ways to live more conscientiously and intelligently; while a war rages on a distant front. Doesn't it feel like we're all in this together, like at any moment Rosie the Riveter is going to pop up on TV with her durag and flex her muscles, telling everyone who's listening--"we can do it"?

Telling people "yes we can" seems to be this President's take on the old phrase, sort of subliminally restoring peoples' faith in themselves while calling them to roll up their sleeves for the nation. What I admire most about the Obamas is that they are not all talk and rhetoric; everything they said would get accomplished while then candidate Obama ran--has happened in one way or another.

It's this kind of virisimilitude in the White House that gives me more hope than any of the slogans crowds chanted. Watching this historic family is like being a kid listening to Roosevelt on the radio, knowing that he was struggling too, and that he really DID feel your pain--not in the superficial way that Bill Clinton seemed to when he said "I feel your pain." There is nothing superficial or put on about the Obamas. But President Obama also offers solutions to assuage his peoples' pain, though he's not reluctant to tell them straight out the sacrifice may be difficult. He stresses sunlight after the rain, not the gathering storm.

I for one am just relieved that this family has come at this time in history-- a president who talks to Americans like cognizent beings, and a First Lady who shows through example how to better yourself and the environment. For the first time in well over two decades I feel like I'm in good hands under Washington's gaze, and I'm proud of Detroit for having a newspaper that also feels that way-- enough to spread the word to its readers.

The Necessity of Beauty

Ameliaalone — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 21:47:33 GMT

Right now I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of a book I bought online, called he Well and the Mine, by an author whose future fame I am sure will make her name easier for me to remember!

The book is set in a small mining community in 1931, and the start of the Great Depression. All is centered around 9-year-old Tess, who witnesses one of her neighbors throw her infant down a well in her desperation to survive.

It's heart-wrenching to think about, but also kind of inspiring in a way. In times similarly desperate at times as those of the early 1930s, I like an author that tells a straight, honest story of overcoming hardships in whatever way necessary.

In my own struggle to make it as a writer, I have often despaired that there's no need for it any more, but this novel proves me wrong. Beauty is always a necessity, maybe an even greater necessity when times are hard. It helps keep me keep my resolve to keep writing, keep pushing for an "in" somewhere, to buy a book when money is so tight.

I figure if one woman can do it, another certainly can, and must. Any story can be uplifting in its own way, and The Well and the Mine is a wonderful testament to that.

The Destination

Ameliaalone — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 03:34:00 GMT

"Roar!" we cry in a single voice--
raging against the Fall.
Let us combine our energies,
and fight the inevitable, so-called.

Let the rain cascade down upon us--
tears from Heaven caress the skin--
may we soak up the challenge,
open our hearts,
and shirk the malaise within.

"Roar!" shout our souls in determination,
enough of the apathy.
Following our masterful leader,
let us rage into history.

May we work hard and cherish our values.
May we always keep a diamond ahead.
The diamond of hope,
the diamond of chance--
may we pursue
with exultant tread.

Life is not just about the road,
it's not just about sites we pass.
Our future together lies with the dream
we all can share at last.

"Roar!" we command of each other
"fie the devastation!"

Let us forge a path
through jungles of fire
and believe in the cool, fresh
destination.

Copyright 2009, Amelia Cypert

Is Cynicism a Virtue or a Vice?

Ameliaalone — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 03:55:29 GMT

As a freelance writer, I cast my net as far as I can--particularly to New York, a Mecca in the writing world. But I'm finding it extremely difficult to entirely surrender my trust to Internet strangers.

Of course I am an adult, and I know that in this world, if you want to get ahead you have to take risks and meet new people. But let me relate the following story to illustrate my point.

Earlier this week on craigslist.com, I sent my resume to a small publishing house in New York that said they were seeking interns to promote their titles. I thought this would be a good way to get my foot in the literary door, and gain a little credit for my efforts in the process. Not academic credit; I graduated five years ago-- street cred.

Yesterday the editor responded with interest and started walking me through the process of being an unpaid promoter for her publishing house's titles. At first, everything seemed to be going well, and I was anxious to get started reading and reviewing the books in her website's catalog.

Then she asked for my mailing address, which I understood was necessary for her to send me copies of the books to review. Still, I was reluctant to provide any personal information without having signed a contract, or read any privacy practices on the publisher's website or anything. When I called her on this, the lady said it was a valid concern, but that it had never come up before, and that most people just give their address right off.

That got me thinking; was I being too cynical? Was it wrong to question this tiny little publishing house's motives and ask for proof she wasn't going to sell my address? I decided pretty quickly that it didn't matter.

In this day and age of identity theft and Internet crimes never before dreamed of, it is perfectly legitimate to be suspicious. Maybe as a freelance writer, basically at the mercy of anyone who will take an interest in my work, it's stupid to be so guarded. But is it?

The last thing I need in this world is to have my identity stolen and the inevitable hassles it would create. My life is full of enough legal wrangling, believe me, without the added difficulty of trying to reclaim my identity from some shadowy third party who bought my address from an equally dubious publisher.

In the end I am sure I've done the right thing, but I really wonder about myself. Is it wrong that I led the publisher to believe I would be her unpaid intern for an entire day, then reneged and got suspicious? I can't believe it is. Where was her Privacy Policy? Where were her Terms of Use? When conducting on online business of any kind, aren't these kind of "must haves" for building trust?

Just a thought:)

--AA

Matchless Matching Site

Ameliaalone — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 07:03:43 GMT

I recently joined an online "matchmaker" service, under the expectation that I would actually meet somebody worth paying for a month of matchmaking to meet.

So far, I've been sorely disappointed with the list of potentials--not one of them has seemed more exciting to me than the depressingly incompatible men aroud me.

Can anyone else relate to this problem? I thought I was going to finally get somewhere with my search for Mr. Rigt, now I'm forced to admit matching online is about as much of a crapshoot as matching in he real world.

--AA