Blog-off Post Number 3 - We are blogging to raise money for the 3 Day Walk for Breast Cancer, with the blog-off initiated by Courtney of Five Second Dance Party. All the participants are in my special blog-roll on my sidebar and I have enjoyed reading their posts to date.Each week we have a one-word topic to blog about, and then we vote for each other's posts. The person with the least number of votes is eliminated from the competition and the blog-off continues. Last week, we said goodbye Yellow and Orange . This week?
Everyone is entitled to privacy. Including Nicole and Keith. Paris? Maybe not.
I don't know about you but my life isn't so vacuous and empty that I have to hang onto every image and rumour that the gossip magazines can churn out on a weekly basis. Why is celebrity such a commodity? Why do we need pictures of film star’s private vacations? Why do we need blurry out of range shots taken surreptitiously by wedding guests instead of the official released photographs? And who asked the glossy mags to pay stars exclusive rights for their honeymoon photos?
I’d hate to be a celebrity. Who made the price of fame forfeiting privacy? When you decide that you want to be a great actor, do you also decide that you want every minute that you step out in public photographed, reproduced in millions of magazines across the globe, dissected by a hungry public?
Even celebrities are entitled to privacy. They may be public figures, but this does not mean that we are entitled to own them, to stalk them every moment that they are in public.
In the golden years of Hollywood, the stars' public appearances were carefully stage managed and orchestrated by the studios to present the best public image. Today’s celebrities don’t know where the paparazzi may be lurking, or if Joe Citizen may decide to snap them with his hot new mobile phone camera and email the photos to a tabloid.
I no longer actively support the gossip magazine industry. Although I need magazines to create my collage poems, I buy them second-hand, compensating the poor sucker who paid full price for them. The stories are ludicrous and I’m not sure anyone with a shred of integrity can write the stories unless they are deluded to the truth. I’ve lost count of the number of times that Nicole has been pregnant (article complete with baby bump photos) since she married Keith, and the number of times have Angelina and Brad’s relationship has been on the rocks.
I’m pleased that my teenage dreams of being an actress did not come true. I’m happy that I can visit the supermarket without having to slap on the full dash of make-up for fear my face may be plastered over a magazine. I’m happy that I can live my life without feeling that I’m living inside a goldfish bowl. I’m happy that I have my privacy.
On my Chickollage blog, I have set myself a challenge of creating a collage poem every day for a year. So today's collage poem is an illustration of the above article.