A List of People for Whom I Once Felt a Certain Way, But Then Who Did One Thing and Changed My Opinion of Them

1. John Mayer

For years I hadn't been impressed so much with John Mayer. As far as I knew, John Mayer had done little that interested me enough to inspire further consideration.
Like probably everyone, I admired his song about fathers and daughters. But probably not like most, I can’t listen to that song because it makes me think about how I barely know my own father. But otherwise, great song. 

Oh, but his song about your body (my body?) being a wonderland?  Just icky. 
So I was mostly ambivalent about John Mayer, and it was this way for a long time.

Until he broke Katy Perry's heart when she was vulnerable and trying to trust in love again. He just seemed sleazy after that, and not in a good way.

But then...

But then he apparently sawed his Grammy in half and gave the better half to Alicia Keys, when his song won Song of the Year over her song. Google it, it’s adorable. Maybe he was wasted when he did it, but I don’t care about that. I think he probably did this before his ugly Rolling Stone interview, and it was definitely before dating Katy Perry, but I didn’t hear about it until Alicia Keys told the story when she hosted the Grammys this year. Alicia brought John out on stage, and they held their pieces of the statue together to make a whole one. It was kind of a silly moment, and it was charmingly sweet. 
I like silly and sweet.

And now I think John Mayer is okay.

2. Ariana Grande

Hey, I really love that first album of hers. I listened to it over and over when I first got the CD, and I still listen to it.. “Honeymoon Avenue” is my favorite track, I love the dropped-beat mix-it-up section (pardon my lack of better terminology to describe it). Overall, I think Yours Truly is quite a respectable debut.

I had never seen Ariana Grande acting in those Nickelodeon shows, had no idea who she was at all, until I happened to catch her performing "The Way" with Mac Miller on a daytime TV show. Hearing her angelic soprano voice, I had the same kind of transcendent experience as when I first saw Mariah Carey perform “Vision of Love” on Saturday Night Live in 1990. Granted, Arianna’s performance was not nearly as chills-inducing as Mariah’s, but still, it made me think that Ariana may just be this generation’s Mariah Carey.

But then...

But then apparently, in a fit of pique over the average American’s dietary choices, Ariana rebelliously licked a doughnut that was sitting out on top of a display case in a doughnut shop. And it was all captured on video for the world to see.

Now I ask you, what kind of establishment leaves food out like that--in reach of customers, uncovered and unattended? I say, bad doughnut shop. 

I will bet you $100 Canadian that Ariana was not the first health-conscious (but probably wasted) person to come along and lick one of those doughnuts then not say anything about it, so that some carbivore would end up eating that doughnut and taking in their supremely healthy saliva. What vegan teenager worth their sprouts would be able to resist that temptation?

And now I think Ariana Grande is not only preternaturally talented, but also hilarious. 

3.  Fiona Apple

This is a story about how one person does one thing and not only changes the way I feel about them, but also changes me as a person.

At first, when she appeared upon the music scene, I was flat-out jealous of Fiona Apple. She had it all: beauty, talent, wisdom, that certain je ne sais quoi that makes one stratospherically cool. All the things I definitely was not.

It was the late 90’s. I was working as the store artist at a Tower Records, and an in-store display that I created for the MTV Video Music Awards won a national retail display contest. I shit you not, I won an all-expenses paid trip to the VMAs at Radio City Music Hall in NYC.

I know that winning the trip makes it sound like I was pretty cool at the time, but believe me, I was not. Artistic talent… no, not even talent… artistic chops, does not always translate into social success. In my case, there was zero effect. I couldn’t get a date to save my life. (Back in the 90’s, we still did this thing called "dating"). 

When I learned that I was actually going to the VMA’s-- and the after-party!!--I felt completely unprepared. I imagined that I might be hobnobbing with actual Rock Stars. Good Lord, what if I came face-to-face with my 90’s crush, Jakob Dylan?! I was an overweight, homely, badly-dressed mess; absolutely unpresentable in my current state.

I will tell you right now--I rushed to consult a plastic surgeon about liposuction. Could we do it in time for me to be recovered in a month? They told me NO.

Besides feeling bad about my appearance, at that time in my life I felt bad about myself all the way through. I was in my very late 20's, and living in my mother's basement. I had no car, no savings, no romance. I had no prospects for the future, and I had left the dreams of my past far behind me.

You see, ever since I had a bit part in a school play in the first grade, I'd been enthralled with the stage. Once you are bitten by the acting bug, it's hard to shake, and I threw myself into it all throughout my childhood and teens. I was in drama classes, school plays, community theater plays, thespian club, theater camp. I ate, breathed, and slept acting, acting, ACTING. I wanted to be a Star.

I also wanted to direct.

But you know how it goes, eventually my family told me to get real. I was not pretty enough to be an actress, not even close. I could either marry well or go to college, study something practical, and get a job so they wouldn't have to support me when I'm still in my very late 20's. Folks will say a lot of stuff about me, but they'd never say I was rebellious, not if they knew me well. I did what I was told. I went to college, life went on, and though I never thought it would ever happen, eventually I lost the acting bug. How can I express what that bug took with it? I'll just say that when I gave up acting, I lost that essential little spark of hope inside.

So there I was, years later, out of college with a stale, useless degree in psychology. Take THAT, family! Oh sure, I could go on to grad school, maybe do research with lab rats and human test subjects and stuff. But that window of opportunity had fallen shut; all of the internships and mentorships and boosts up into the professional sphere had long ago gone to other students better-connected than me. That trail had gone cold.

I could go on to get a counseling license, but by then I was starting to catch on that... well... um... I hate people. There, I've said it. This hate is on a profoundly deep, archetypal-type of level. Nothing personal, Gentle Reader, I detest humanity as a whole. I've got my reasons. Some of us are okay, of course. (I'm sure you are one of the okay ones.) Some people are undeniably wonderful. Canadians get an automatic pass from me. But most of us are no more than wretched parasites eating eating eating up the world. They say, "Haters gonna hate," and yep, that's what I'm doing over here all the time, even while I'm smiling right in your face. At least I'm owning it. I could never be a counselor, should never work in the care of others, in all good conscience. I may be a misanthrope, but I also have ethics.

A couple of false starts, many missteps, and several wrong turns later, I wound up as a Tower Records store artist. The pay was low but the perks--all the promo CDs and concert tickets I wanted--were fantastic. (Imagine me saying this in Bob Seger's voice) Looking back now, (and then I finish as Ryan Adams covering Bryan Adams) I see those were the best days of my life . I loved the job, but in my heart I knew I was wasting time. I should have been on my way to a career, having my own home, and starting a family--not hiding out in the back of a record store, smoking pot and listening to Marcy Playground on a boombox all day.

Back to my immediate problem (20+ years ago): I couldn't get the fat Hoovered out of my hips in time to meet The Spice Girls and Marilyn Manson, so I went out and got the nicest outfit I could afford that didn’t make me look fatter that I actually was. Not an easy task. I wasn’t Gilbert-Grape's-mama obese, but I had (and still have) huge boobs, wide-load hips, and no waist to speak of. Robert Crumb might have been into me if my legs weren't so stubby, I have the cankles. Dressing this body back then was hard, especially on a minimum-wage budget. All the cheap vintage stuff that the scenesters were buying up like hotcakes at Goodwill never ever came in my size. I guess fat girls had to sew their own clothes in the 70's--and then those clothes fell apart or got burned up in the riots--because nothing over a size 8 survived long enough to make it to the thrift stores by the time I got there.

In the weeks leading up to the VMAs, I worked myself up into quite a state of panic.  I pictured myself at the awards show and the star-studded after party, rubbing elbows with the likes of Madonna and Coolio, looking like crap. 

Other times I would daydream about parlaying this opportunity into getting my big break in NYC--not as an actress, but maybe as a graphic designer for MTV....and then I would snap back to reality, amidst the failure that was my actual life. The cognitive dissonance was crippling. 

So in the midst of all this angst, I flew out to NYC and attended what turned out to be one of the more memorable popular cultural events of the decade, the 1997 MTV Video Music Awards. To this day I almost can't believe I was actually there. I remember standing in the lobby, absolutely amazed that I could see Elton John with my naked eye, and he was flirting with Maxwell. Go, Elton!  I was thinking my thoughts about Elton John inside my head and there in the same room, breathing the same air as my head, was Elton John in the flesh. Listen, it's 22 years later, and I still can't quite wrap my brain around it! 

Here’s where Fiona Apple comes in. That year she was nominated for the MTV Video Music Award for Best New Artist. At that point in time, I was still feeling this way about her: I want to be you—why can’t I be you?—it’s not fair—I hate you.

When the Best New Artist category came up, and then Fiona Apple’s name was called as the winner, I was disappointed. I had been rooting for The Wallflowers. I didn’t clap as she made her way to the stage.

But then.

But then that teenager, just a few days shy of her twentieth birthday, strode up to the microphone in white Armani and flip-flops and did an incredibly brave thing. She called out the industry that had just deemed her their Golden Child, and she said, “This world is bullshit.”

When she said that, I was shocked. The whole room was shocked. She was being so ungrateful!  But then she kept talking, and she said this: “…you shouldn’t model your life about what you think that we think is cool and what we’re wearing and what we’re saying and everything. Go with yourself. Go with yourself.”

Those words hit me like arrows. I know Fiona was aiming for the young and impressionable out there in America and beyond, but she struck this jaded 29-year-old right in the gut. I had a visceral reaction, sitting there in the umpteenth row of Radio City, way, way up in the nosebleed section. I sat there in the dark, stunned. Tears came. I felt like she was saying it directly to me.

And I needed to hear it, in that moment. I needed someone to tell me that, and I wouldn’t have believed anyone who didn’t know what it was like to be a real Star.

Fiona's words from that night stayed with me. “Go with yourself” rang and reverberated around inside of me for a long time. And over time, I have come to know that this is some of the best advice one could ever give. Another way of saying it is this: Be true to yourself. You can hand-stamp THAT onto a bespoke metal bracelet and sell it online for $120, Gwyneth.

  

That night Fiona Apple took a swing at the façade of the entertainment industry. She swung from the heels and left a crack. And now, two decades later, we know that she was right, don’t we? That world really is bullshit. Maybe I dodged a bullet by giving up on acting. What would I have done if I learned firsthand that the casting couch was not only real for those without a pedigree, but required? Would I have been able to go through with something like that? I think about this often nowadays, and I truly don't know the answer.

And now I think Fiona Apple is a national treasure to be revered and protected like an endangered species. She is my favorite singer/songwriter. I know every word of her first three albums, I've worn out those CDs and had to replace them. Her picture is on my wall. She is in my heart. I love her, and I really don’t love that many people in this world.

I have been needing to write about this for a long time now. Maybe that was the whole reason I started this blog. Thank you for reading.

Postscript: As it turns out, back in ’97, I had been invited to the Official VMA’s party, which was held in a huge park in Manhattan. Half the city was at this party and it was definitely not the after party that all the rock stars were at. Don’t get me wrong, it was the most amazing party I have ever attended in my life, and I did see some (lesser) celebrities, and I might have shaken hands with some members of the Wu-Tang Clan, I’m not sure, It was late and the night had gotten blurry by that point. I will save some of those stories for another post, another day.

All of my anguish over showing up all dumpy-looking to that A-list event was unfounded. Nobody was looking at me that night, it was all about the hype, all about the Star Power. And I was starting to understand that I didn’t want that bullshit after all. The path might not always be clear and I will always have my demons aboard, but I was going with what I knew was real. I might not be a Star, but I was going with myself.