The world seems quite taken with Susan Boyle. Her frumpy appearance, quirky behavior, and remarkable voice went viral leading to an estimated 100,000,000 youtube video hits in just over 6 six weeks. She is a sensational character in a sensationalizing world, and has caught the eye of mainstream media and average everyday "Joes" as she likes to call them. She has become an unlikely star catapulted onto an international stage reminding us that it is good and honorable to be as you were intended "originally you".
I was so taken by her original video clip, at just over 7 minutes it was like a gripping two hour movie with all the main characters -- the heroine (Ms. Boyle of course), the villain (the in-person audience including the judges), and the victim (us, all of us that waited to laugh at Ms. Boyle for making such a fool of herself in public). Even the script ("I Dreamed a Dream", Les Miserables) seemed suited for that moment when it was shared. If you watched this it was one of those "feel good" stories of a lifetime.
It strikes me that so many equally (if not more so) talented people will never be discovered because of either their desire to be like everyone else or because of the tigers that have torn hope apart for them. They seem victims of their own life killing the dreams they dreamed.
Don't let that happen to you. Today is a good day to dream!
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
yesterday, today, and tommorow
It's such a balancing act sometimes -- cleaning up yesterday's loose ends, taking care of today, and planning for tommorow. For some reason it seems I get inordinately stuck many times between yesterday and tomorrow without enough appreciation for today. I really need to focus on remembering yesterday and learning from it, planning for tomorrow and preparing for it, but living for today and enjoying it.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
you're just not funny
Have you ever had to break the bad news to someone that they lacked significant expertise and talent in an area that they really wanted to succeed in? Have you ever had to be that slight nudge and redirection for another person's dreams?
About two weeks ago my son announces that he will be participating in the annual elementary school talent show. He's going to tell jokes. Now it's no surprise to me that my son is ... well, how can I say this ... an incredibly intelligent, fun, great guy born absent of the ability to tell a good joke if his life depended on it. And trust me -- he has tried. At five years old after days of him trying to put two amusing sentences together I had to break it to him -- I tried to say it gently but "you're just not funny" came out harshly.
I can remember feeling like I was crushing his dream, but honestly one more of his "attempts at being funny" was going to push me over the edge. It was one of those times as a parent that I was sure I had broken every good parent rule, but could only sigh with relief because I wasn't going to be driven crazy while being empathetic and reassuring. I quickly followed my crushing blow with a new self-serving "No More Jokes in the House" rule -- better to get it all done at once I reasoned. After all, he's already crushed, what's a new rule he won't like going to do beyond that.
The next 4 years were relatively quiet on this front. Oh, of course there was the ocassional attempted joke followed by my now sweet and supportive "remember we all agreed that you're just not funny" which he handled well. (Note the emphasis on ALL to make my dream crushing response look like it was a civil family meeting vote he only vaguely remembers). But then this -- jokes, elementary school talent show, my son. This was a bad combination.
I swallowed hard, "ummmm son I don't know how I feel about that" I started. "I know dad, I know I'm just not that funny", he replied. "How about I sing?", he asked. I didn't know if he could do that, but I knew it would have to be better than telling jokes. "Absolutely" I said convincingly, pretty sure that he would figure out on his own that he didn't want to stand in front of an auditorium full of people singing.
On May 7, 2009 a proud daddy watched his little man wow a crowded auditorium at an elementary talent show. It wasn't his voice that did that, although unbeknownest to me my son has "perfect pitch". It wasn't his presentation or even the confidence that he oozed when he took the stage. It was his conviction. My son chose a song that said something about who he was and what he believed -- my ten year old sang "Everlasting God". One of the teacher's approached me at the end of the talent show and noted how there were tears in the eyes of some teachers when he practiced earlier in the day.
A little later in the evening my son came up and gave me one of those "it's-great-to-be-a-kid" hugs, pushed his hair away from his eyes, and said "You know what, dad, I know I'm just not that funny, but I can sing". "Yes you can, yes you can" I replied.
About two weeks ago my son announces that he will be participating in the annual elementary school talent show. He's going to tell jokes. Now it's no surprise to me that my son is ... well, how can I say this ... an incredibly intelligent, fun, great guy born absent of the ability to tell a good joke if his life depended on it. And trust me -- he has tried. At five years old after days of him trying to put two amusing sentences together I had to break it to him -- I tried to say it gently but "you're just not funny" came out harshly.
I can remember feeling like I was crushing his dream, but honestly one more of his "attempts at being funny" was going to push me over the edge. It was one of those times as a parent that I was sure I had broken every good parent rule, but could only sigh with relief because I wasn't going to be driven crazy while being empathetic and reassuring. I quickly followed my crushing blow with a new self-serving "No More Jokes in the House" rule -- better to get it all done at once I reasoned. After all, he's already crushed, what's a new rule he won't like going to do beyond that.
The next 4 years were relatively quiet on this front. Oh, of course there was the ocassional attempted joke followed by my now sweet and supportive "remember we all agreed that you're just not funny" which he handled well. (Note the emphasis on ALL to make my dream crushing response look like it was a civil family meeting vote he only vaguely remembers). But then this -- jokes, elementary school talent show, my son. This was a bad combination.
I swallowed hard, "ummmm son I don't know how I feel about that" I started. "I know dad, I know I'm just not that funny", he replied. "How about I sing?", he asked. I didn't know if he could do that, but I knew it would have to be better than telling jokes. "Absolutely" I said convincingly, pretty sure that he would figure out on his own that he didn't want to stand in front of an auditorium full of people singing.
On May 7, 2009 a proud daddy watched his little man wow a crowded auditorium at an elementary talent show. It wasn't his voice that did that, although unbeknownest to me my son has "perfect pitch". It wasn't his presentation or even the confidence that he oozed when he took the stage. It was his conviction. My son chose a song that said something about who he was and what he believed -- my ten year old sang "Everlasting God". One of the teacher's approached me at the end of the talent show and noted how there were tears in the eyes of some teachers when he practiced earlier in the day.
A little later in the evening my son came up and gave me one of those "it's-great-to-be-a-kid" hugs, pushed his hair away from his eyes, and said "You know what, dad, I know I'm just not that funny, but I can sing". "Yes you can, yes you can" I replied.
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