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Celebrity-worship and hero-worship should not be confused. Yet we confuse them every day, and by doing so we come dangerously close to depriving ourselves of all real models. We lose sight of the men and women who do not simply seem great because they are famous but are famous because they are great. We come closer and closer to degrading all fame into notoriety.
Today, we’re struggling a lot, both men and women, with finding out what we’re supposed to be. Like when you go on a first date, I always find it incredibly difficult to figure out whether I should reach for the check or not. I don’t want to presume anything, but I don’t want to be a ball-buster. A lot of rules are thrown up into the air and I think that maybe more than anything, we’re confused.
I have always maintained that paradigm shift away from signing Rock and Metal acts is part of the decline in sales the major labels have talked about for years. I mean, to me, that should be so obvious. For decades, literally, as long as Rock N’ Roll has existed, a large swath of major label income came from Rock, and later, Metal bands. So if you essentially stop signing the thing that brought in a significant portion of your income, how are you confused when you don’t sell as much? It’s like cutting off your nose to spite your face. I still don’t get it.
I think everybody has a purpose. Everybody is made to be a picture of how good and glorious God is, and I think sometimes we’ll get it confused and think because we mess up, we make mistakes or we have some blemishes in our record, that our purpose is somehow messed up. But actually that only serves to further paint a picture of how good God is when he uses people who are messed up just like me.
When the thunder rumbles,
Now the age of gold is dead.
When the dreams we’ve clung to
Trying to stay young,
Have left us parched and old instead.
When my courage crumbles,
When I feel confused and frail,
When my spirit falters on decaying altars
And my illusions fail —
I go on right then.
I go on again.
I go on to say I will celebrate another day.
I go on.
If tomorrow tumbles
And everything I love is gone,
I will face regret all my days, and yet
I will still go on.
To a psychoanalyst, a woman pilot, particularly a married one with children, must prove an interesting as well as an inexhaustible subject. Torn between two loves, emotionally confused, the desire to fly an incurable disease eating out your life in the slow torture of frustration-she cannot be a simple, natural personality.
I’m taking drama classes, they say I’m a natural actress. I think it’s just because I talk a lot. I’m also learning how to play guitar and piano. Piano is really hard though. My dad is teaching me and I just get so confused because the chords are so different, but by learning I hope to be able to be a songwriter as well.
I don’t think I will ever be able to really articulate how bizarre it was to hear my name at the Academy Awards. I’d watched in my pajamas the year before! I felt numb – dazed and confused. I remember feeling light – weightless. More like limbo than cloud nine. At first I was like, This is my statue; nobody gets to touch it. And by midnight I was like, Please, someone, take this statue; it’s too heavy! So I gave it to my brother, and he went off with it.
I read something in the paper that really confused me the other day. It said that 80 percent of the people in New York are minorities. Shouldn’t you not call them minorities when they get to be 80 percent of the population? That’s a very white attitude, don’t you think? I mean, you could take a white guy to Africa and he’d be like ‘Look at all the minorities around here! I’m the only majority.’
You have to decide where the line is in such a complicated place like Saudi Arabia. I was so confused by the place – there’s no simple story. It’s a place that is really sensitive to how it is judged, particularly by people from the West. So in the end I thought: I’m just going to take the reader on my journey to try and understand this odd place.
Whatever you resist you become. If you resist anger, you are always angry. If you resist sadness, you are always sad. If you resist suffering, you are always suffering. If you resist confusion,you are always confused. We think that we resist certain states because they are there, but actually they are there because we resist them.
I held his gaze. I could see the storm in his eyes. I knew he was confused. I could see the fear. Then there was the love. I saw it. The fierceness in his eyes. I believed it. I could see it clearly. But it was too late now. The love wasn’t enough. Everyone always said that love was enough. It wasn’t. Not when your soul was shattered.
Towards the end of Coexist, we had a couple of short tours where, although we were on the road together, we weren’t speaking very much. We were there to do a job, and once the show was done we’d go our separate ways to our hotel rooms. Those were some of my unhappiest moments. Stepping offstage and, within an hour, being in a hotel room alone is the most crazy feeling. I don’t know how to really explain it. I felt just lost and confused. It’s anticlimactic and you just feel really lonely.