Blurring fantasy and reality

Okay, first the reality. My mom's cancer is gone. Nothing is more important than that, and I thank God that she will be alright. She still has to undergo seven weeks of radiation, which sucks, but she will be strong and get through this and God willing, she will be healthy for ever and ever.

Now, for the fantasy. I am addicted to American Idol and to Blake Lewis. He is a 25-year-old beat boxer with spiky hair, an affinity for plaid vests and hoodies (love the hoodies), and amazing talent. As Simon Cowell said, he is not the best singer in the competition (and let me just say, Duh, we knew that many weeks ago), but he is the most interesting and fun to watch. I fully expect to see him lose tomorrow night (I called 50 times, I kid you not, but there is only so much one can do, you know? and my hand started to hurt), which makes me sad, b/c the winner, Jordin, has a gorgeous voice but is only 17 and is not that interesting to watch. But I know that, like Chris Daughtry last year (now with only the biggest band in America), Blake will go on to do big things. You don't have to win to win.

I am also (or was) addicted to HEROES, which ended last night, in a blaze of glory, as Peter Petrelli and his ever-loyal (though we weren't always sure) brother, Nathan, flew away into the horizon, light or dark, life or death, we won't know till next year. It was a wonderful example of visual and writing expertise, as the ending was indeed in the beginning (the pilot episode had Nathan flying and Peter learning that he could absorb others' powers). Oh, it's just a show, say you, and that's entirely true. But one loses oneself in such, well, not entertainment, exactly, but experience, and can get out of the every day humdrum, the frustration one feels as being alone, not being thin enough or pretty enough or talented enough. I have to remind myself every day that I can write, I can look pretty (currently overweight, but I am determined to take care of that by learning how to eat properly again), I can enjoy times with friends, and my writing and my job DO NOT DEFINE ME. I listen to a lot of James Morrison when I'm feeling sad ("I'm not lost, not lost, just undiscovered; when we're alone, we're all the same as each other"). I can get past the disappointment of not being chosen for the Boston Theatre Marathon or the Dragonfly or countless other festivals I have not been accepted into or won't be, b/c that is NOT what defines me.

But sometimes I just have to escape into someone else's reality, b/c mine just feels too painful. And then it's the next day and I carry on.