Thursday, June 30, 2011

Escapism

I was reading an interview with David Suzuki yesterday, and he said something along the lines of “we’re ignoring the planet dying and instead focusing on celebrities” (sorry, I don’t have the exact quote).

This statement really got me thinking about escapism.

I have an obsession with stories. Not only do I spend a large majority of my time playing video games, watching movies, watching TV shows, reading books, and reading articles online, I also spend my time writing those articles, and those stories, and working on theatrical productions and, occasionally, films. My life is about stories. I live, breathe, and sleep them.

They’re how I approach the world – the experiences I have in real-world situations often turn into my best (or terrible, I guess that’s debatable) stories. My life is a series of stories, starring myself and my friends and family. I suppose this is true of all people – what would there be to talk about if not for what happens to us in our lives? We recount stories to one another every day.

Suzuki’s point mostly focused on celebrities. I do fall into this trap from time to time. I cast books in my head. I go to conventions and meet my favourite sci fi actors. I likely know way too much about the personal lives of celebrities, and I can usually name pretty much every actor I see on screen. I can even tell what commercials are shot in Toronto, based on the actors that appear in them (yes, I’m likely a dork).

Does this come at a cost? Do I ignore real world problems or situations in favour of the glitz and glamour of Hollywood? Yes. Probably.

I know the world is dying. I do a little bit – I’m all about public transit (although I’ll admit this is more for the selfish “I don’t want to learn to drive” reason – though the environmental benefit is nice) and I’m getting better about turning everything off when I leave, and doing things like only washing my clothes in cold water.

I know people are dying. There are so many terrible things that go on everywhere – war, famine, slavery, poverty, oppression. I don’t really do anything about that. I don’t know that I can. I’d love to adopt a child in some war-torn country or give money to those in need. I tell myself I don’t because I’m unemployed and have no money to give. Yet somehow I’m writing this from a Starbucks on Yonge Street – so that excuse doesn’t sit well with me. The extent of my charity is lazy – liking things on Facebook so other companies will donate a dollar, retweeting for the same purpose.

Sometimes I feel like I’m a really terrible person. Perhaps I am.

I get involved with politics to a point, but I don’t go nuts, mostly because I’ve learned there’s a lot of people I simply don’t want to discuss politics with.

I’ve always believed that telling stories helps the world. It makes us human. I still believe that. I believe we become aware of those people who are dying , the environment, everything through the media and education. I believe the arts are central to this because they allow us to work out our feelings on these things. And escapism isn’t all bad – it can’t be all doom and gloom all the time.

Do I hide in the stories? Does creating art and words make me self-centred? Am I a terrible person who lives in the arts rather than helping out her fellow man in the real world? Or can I help by writing and creating and doing? Is it a false reality? Does writing this down actually do anything for anybody or does it stroke my own ego?

I guess I just thought I’d share what was going on in my head today, as I sit in a Starbucks on Yonge, on a laptop I am lucky to have, in a life full of wonderful and terrible stories.

1 comment:

  1. I realize this is a very old post, and probably not the place or time for my opinion to be voiced. I'm voicing it anyway; hope you get updates on this thing:
    Ms. Bellingham, I don't think you're a terrible person based on this first impression. I don't think you're a terrible person at all. You're probably very like the majority of your neighbors, trying to eke out a living in moderate comfort, and doing what you can to help those around you.
    That's the key, right there - doing what you can. The reason I say this is, no man (woman, whatever) is going to save the world alone. Your stories, and love of stories, is keeping you sane and focused, and keeping you alive in the most important sense - and sharing those stories with the world makes it less of a hellish, cold and lonely existence. Stories are who we are, were, and who we want or fear to be. And stories are how compassion travels from one human heart to another.
    I'm glad you're posting all of this online, in full view or the world, because I wouldn't have found it otherwise. So thank you, Ms Bellingham, for letting me flood a quiet corner of the internet with my thoughts on your words. Hope I didn't bore you too much.

    ReplyDelete