I had to post this. I know it's quite a read, but I honestly agree with it:
Oh, Britney.
Though I try to avoid celebrity "news," the pop star's most recent meltdown crisis keeps pulling me in.
I can't help it. I find myself staying up till 1 a.m. to watch TMZ, guiltily consuming every detail of her forced commitment last week to the UCLA Medical Centre, all the while feeling absolutely sick to my stomach at the poor girl's disastrous situation.
I'm not even sure why I care, but maybe it's because of the "girlfriend moment" Britney and I shared back in June 2000.
At the time, Spears was a 17-year-old rising star on tour to promote her hot new album Oops! I Did It Again, which shot to No. 1 on the charts and sold 1.3 million copies in its first week of release.
She still had a reputation as a nice Southern girl with crazy talent and was in Toronto for a live appearance at MuchMusic.
We were scheduled for a 15-minute interview at Yorkville's Windsor Arms Hotel and I was killing time in my favourite boutique when a blond and giggly Spears breezed in for a spontaneous shop, entourage in tow.
I was stunned when, after a murmured conversation with her assistant, I got the go-ahead to start the interview in the store.
Up close and in person, she was tiny and sparkly, smiling broadly and admitting that yes, the rumour was true, she had received a compli-mentary email from Prince William. She was giddy over the positive response to her new album.
"Right before Oops! came out I was almost depressed. I was really nervous about it," she admitted, adding that she'd recently realized she'd been trying to please everybody else and it had made her crazy.
While I frantically scribbled notes, Spears shopped with enthusiasm, not bothering to pull the curtain of her change room. Her famous abs were taut, clearly the result of daily dance rehearsals and demanding stadium shows.
There was nothing intellectual about our conversation. Spears was charming and disarming, while somewhat naïve and superficial. But intelligence and depth are hardly requisite qualities for a 17-year-old pop star.
By the end of our interview, I felt a sisterly bond. And now, almost eight years later, I look at that picture and mourn what's happened to her.
I don't blame Spears for her downfall. I don't think she's a monster or a bad mother, a train wreck or white trash. I think she's a human being suffering deeply for her own bad decisions, decisions she made because she doesn't know better.
So if it's not Spears' fault, whose is it? Some people blame her parents. Others blame the bad boyfriends. But I blame myself.
I'm a part of the media complex that has used Spears as a convenient and attractive repository for our culture's collective fantasies about money and fame.
I admit I've used her for my own purposes – to score a scoop, to get my byline on the front page.
I also admit to skimming the celebrity mags, taking salacious pleasure in her latest drama. Despite her personal difficulties, Spears is still one of the world's top pop artists: Her fifth album, Blackout, hit No. 2 on the Billboard charts when it debuted last fall, and her current single, Piece Of Me, is in the top 10.
But I believe in The Secret, the popular self-help book and movie that says we create the world we live in through our thoughts, and it's become increasingly obvious that we, as a culture, are at least in part responsible for what's happening to Spears.
If she's in crisis, so are we. Because at some level, we all created her by buying into celebrity and feeding the greedy paparazzi machine.
As long as we continue to support the fallacy that celebrity matters, we'll continue to see Britney's tragic story – and others like it.
When she doesn't perform flawlessly, mother effortlessly, or dress appropriately, we snicker, sneer, gossip and shamelessly take pleasure in her difficulties.
Why do we devote time and energy to her exploits? I think it's because her life allows us all, for a moment, to feel a bit better about our own lives – that at least we're not addicted and depressed, losing our kids, or at a rehab centre.
But maybe there is a better way, one that doesn't feed the hungry celebrity machine, the same machine that was part of the death of one of my personal heroines, Princess Diana.
So, starting today, I vow to stop thinking about Spears. I'm putting her right out of my mind, where she belongs, so she can do whatever she needs to get better.
That means no more gossip web-sites, no more late-night TMZ, not even an odd sneaked peek at the celebrity rags. No more energy to Britney, unless it's positive thoughts and kind words.
And readers, I challenge you to ask yourselves why you're reading those magazines, too, and whether it's benefiting you and the world you live in now, or the one you're creating for your kids.
Source: thestar.com