Last Saturday was a bitch.
It started out with disturbing news that a frikkin’ nutcase had killed 100 people in Norway, including children at a youth camp.
Then Anita left for class – she’s pursuing her master’s degree in an accelerated program at Michigan State University and would be gone all day – which meant I’d be alone for several hours with just my lack of self-discipline and propensity for procrastination.
Then at about 1:00 the news broke that troubled singer Amy Winehouse had fulfilled nearly everyone’s expectations and drank herself to death. My wall exploded with references to Amy Winehouse and links to news stories about Amy Winehouse and YouTube videos of Amy Winehouse. Every second post was about Amy Winehouse.
At first I was perturbed. I even posted as my Facebook status update that I was saddened by her passing but sadder about the 90+ innocent victims of a madman in Norway, many of whom were innocent children.
A friend in Germany who’s an Amy Winehouse fan responded with, “Oh, there’s a ranking? I didn’t know.”
This made me think, which I hate, and I started listening to Amy Winehouse videos on YouTube, lots of ‘em, from “Will you still love me tomorrow?” to “Back to Black” to “Do me good” to “Love is a losing game” and of course “Rehab,” her biggest hit.
I thought her voice was haunting and other-worldly and amazing. Emotion dripped off of every note, every syllable – I could feel it – and her impressive, raw talent hit me in the head like a 20-pound cinder block. She smiled as the audience applauded after one live performance and I saw vulnerability and appreciation and fear and comfort. I found her to be enchanting and compelling and supremely talented, and I thought, “Dammit! What a loss!”
So I posted some Amy Winehouse videos to Facebook and then sent a message to my German friend – who, as it turns out, lost her musician father to addiction and told me that sometimes you can’t help someone, no matter how much you try or want to, if they’re on a certain path – and admitted that I was wrong. Loss is loss and life is life and death is death.
I think it’s sad that such an obviously-troubled young woman with such an awesome gift couldn’t get the help she needed to stay with us longer. She had fame and fortune and the ability to go anywhere and do anything to get better, but she couldn’t.
I think it’s sad that some snarky little sh*ts on Facebook thought the proper thing to do to mark the occasion of Ms. Winehouse’s death was to post catty messages about how her demise was no surprise.
I think it’s sad that Norway – one of the most peaceful nations on Earth, home to the Nobel Peace Prize, for Pete’s sake – isn’t immune to the senseless violence and pain and murder and mayhem that we know too well in the United States.
I think it’s sad that mothers and fathers in Oslo will be burying their sons and daughters, which is so wrong, and that Amy Winehouse’s parents will be mourning their special little girl as well.
And I think sometimes Saturdays suck.