Okay, so I have to add to the thought train of my last post that, sometimes, entertainment news does interest me, after all.
Sadly so, in this case. I started to flip the channel when I initially saw the news break about Britney Spears’ new haircut…well, more cut and less hair…ala Sinead O’Connor. But when I saw the image of her bald, my interest was piqued. Shock journalism? Perhaps. But I was intrigued. I had to pause to hear the story.
There are many speculations about what role Brit’s flirting with rehab held in the scheme of her new look, but the fact that there is a connection doesn’t require a psychologist to see. I suppose that Spears is one of those artists that bring out different reactions in different people. Some worship her, some hold her in severe disdain, some laugh and poke fun.
I have to say, though, that when I see Spears, my heart breaks. Because this is someone who is desperate. Someone who some have said is crying out for help. I think she’s screaming for help. Screaming that her grasp on a vision of sanity in her whirlwind world has slipped, and that she can’t regain it. I’ve experienced this myself: I can only imagine what the added role of being a celebrity would do to the situation. Spears is drowning. She just can’t stay afloat much longer. Someone needs to reach out and help her.
Someone.
I imagine she would accept anyone.
I think her music idol lifestyle was fun for a while. This last explosion in her life, though…I think it was too much. And I fear that, instead of having the human compassion to intervene, that America will watch as she disintegrates in front of our eyes. And then we will laugh, or shake our heads sadly, and go on with our lives. Because hers was too distant and separated from ours to be real. It was television.
Except, of course, to her.