Stiletto

Last night as I was attempting to go to sleep, I watched an old Oprah episode called "Gayle and Oprah's Big Adventure." Give me a break. It was when they drove a car across the country and tried to appear like normal folk while cameras followed their every move.

It became apparent to me that if someone thinks someone is watching them do something, they alter their behavior, put on a performance. Gayle and Oprah engaged in witty banter as they were driving, and as a viewer, I knew they were putting on an act for the camera.

As I write this blog, I know someone else might read it. I think it drastically changes the way I would write it.

What I'm beginning to realize is that what sounds like a profound idea in my head, really doesn't translate to the page and might not be so profound to others (or at all). Amazing epiphanies come over me at odd moments. Dazzling, fleeting ideas that could somehow come across as "She's hitting the bong too much."

I saw a photo of Naomi Campbell starting her community service in the paper this morning. She was wearing 4 inch stiletto boots to sweep and mop floors. WTF?

What if ultimately nobody really gives a shit? What you do or what you say or what you look like ultimately means nothing, so why does it matter if you put up appearances?

I used to wear tall shoes on my subway commutes. Now, I've resorted to wearing orthopedic like nurse shoes just so I can walk because my bunion hurts so much. It's one instance in my life where I stopped putting up an appearance because I was forced to out of sheer pain.

My mom asked me a question this morning: "What would you do if you only had one year to live? What would you do?"

I certainly wouldn't be watching "Gayle and Oprah's Big Adventure."