The 25 minutes I carved out of watching the finale of American Idol has dwindled to 5 minutes, thanks to a slower-than-molasses computer. Oh, well.
Mom & I LOVE watching American Idol. This season our jaws dropped at David Archuleta's amazing voice and we swooned to David Cook's rendition of The Music of the Night (and a lot of other songs. He's my personal favorite.) It is 8:15; I won't know the season's winner for another 40 minutes or so.
We like Idol for a lot of reasons. These young people who have nothing except a dream. I likened it to an author placing a manuscript before an editor, hoping against hope that they will like it. Going from there to a John Grisham-type career.
Also, I like Idol because it appears at least in the music arena, most artificial barriers of race and gender and even style are swept away.
But ... here's a thought ... shows like American Idol may discourage more young people than it encourages. For every 16 year David Archuleta there's a 23 year old like my precious Jolene who realizes she will never be "the best" at anything. It fosters a mentality that if you don't win, you haven't succeeded.
At least Jolene felt that 23 life had passed her by. I'm thinking about conversations before her death, not saying that's what led her to take her life.
I only regret that she didn't live long enough to see that new dreams take the place of old ones. We're never too old to reach out for something larger than life.
Anyhow, those are my quick and rambling thoughts as I prepare for bed (I've felt physically lousy today.) Back to the living room to learn who the winner is.