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Archive for category Adam Lambert

Hunger

Jun 22

Posted by Kristen in Adam Lambert, Little Shop of Horrors, Treading Water

Little Shop of HorrorsI used to think that stagnation was my biggest enemy. I’ve witnessed so much death I assumed the grim reaper was more powerful than the giver of life. Then life proved me wrong. Last week, two separate experiences catapulted me out of my solipsistic bubble of personal hunger and into the more powerful magnetism of mass starvation. Ever since, I haven’t been able to cleanse my head of images of that human-eating plant in The Little Shop of Horrors. Evidently, life’s voracious appetite is a universal condition.

First—and more benignly—I stumbled across a blog written by Adam Lambert’s younger brother, Neil. I enjoy the talents of both brothers for very different reasons; while Adam’s music is like a refreshingly mind-altering drug, Neil’s writing is a very tasty morning cup of coffee. Clearly, though, not all fans recognize the differences between brothers and have taken to terrorizing Neil like junkies hard for their next fix. Whether it’s that these fans assume they can somehow gain access to Adam through Neil, or they actually believe a shared bloodline makes one a heterosexual twin of the other, these fans are so hungry for attention, they have generated a 300-comment thread so bloodthirsty it makes Madame Defarge’s knitting seem like a child’s art project. Today, Neil finally closed the site to comments, following an announcement titled, “Shut the fuck up, everybody.” As a fellow (if less read) blogger, I feel very sad for Neil. And yet I know that eventually the revolution will move elsewhere, and he will return to calmer, if less populated, poetic pastures. More startling (and enduring) is the feeling of all that hunger. It lingers on my clothes like a nauseating smell I can’t escape. Is my own hunger this greedy? Will I become the next vampire? Oh how dangerously close are the worlds of revolutions and blood-sucking night creatures! And in our desperate culture, both can seem romantic.

Much more devastating is a tragedy closer to home. The lovely tomboy who taught me how to roller skate all of those years ago is now facing a challenge so unique it almost seems fictional. The cause of this tragedy? Simple, terrifying: life demanding its chance. I understand this demand. Lately, I’ve been living it. And because I’m living it, I can feel the threat of all that undigested energy waiting to be released. Living—fully, unpredictably—is a daily gamble. And often—as it is in my friend’s life—it is a fire sparked at a crossroads. We’ve all been there or will one day get there: a doctor finds a lump, or a deer locks eyes with us as it darts across the road. How will we handle such a moment? In which direction will life grow?

That plant in The Little Shop of Horrors—Audrey, Jr.—wasn’t evil. It just wanted to live. We all deserve that chance at life. We all deserve a fresh meal. What I’ve learned this week is that life can’t help itself but grow. What shape that life will take is the only real variable. At any given time, any one of us can grow into a blossoming magnolia or an Audrey Jr. What shape will my own growth take? At the moment, my choices seem laughably innocent. If I choose wrong, I will either miss the opportunity to love a second child, or else regret a child who was conceived too early. I will either write the wrong thing and have to retract, or else face the regret of a voice silenced too broadly. None of these fates are the worst that could come. No, life has much darker branches than these.

Neil, take heart. The hunger will eventually subside. The rioters will find a different street. In their wake, you’ll certainly find enough loyal and enduring companions for your journey.

And to my dear friend, who has saved me on more occasions than I can count: life comes in waves. I’ve seen you swim. And when you can’t, there are lifeguards all around.

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Out

May 13

Posted by Kristen in Adam Lambert, Choice

adam-lambert21My recent fascination with Adam Lambert has made me think a lot about what it means to come out. While there remains a lot of debate about his sexual orientation, I’m not sure there’s much ambiguity. Adam has stated publicly that kissing girls is not his thing, has referred to past relationships with boyfriends, and when asked about photographs that show him making out with men said that he’s “an honest guy” and “has nothing to hide.” While he certainly hasn’t held a press conference declaring his sexual orientation (and to my understanding, none of the other contestants have either), he declares Harvey Milk—a huge proponent of the power of coming out—as his personal idol, and when a TMZ reporter recently made a most humiliating attempt to stammer through the topic of Adam’s sexual orientation, Adam practically dared him to ask the question. If Adam is at all reluctant to discuss the subject, I am confident that it is not out of insecurity or shame—quite the opposite. I think he is so confident in his identity that he doesn’t feel the urgency to indulge a question that shouldn’t have been asked in the first place.

While I don’t think that it is appropriate to ask a singing contestant about his or her sexual preferences when the same question (or related ones) aren’t asked of every other contestant, I do have to admit that I find a lot of inspiration in the fact that I do believe Adam to be gay and—more to the point—proud of it. I would even go so far as to argue that a large degree of the intrigue about his identity is born less from bigotry and more from envy. Adam exudes more unconditional love toward himself than most of us can muster toward another person, let alone ourselves—this, all while being a self-proclaimed misfit. Considering his role as oddball nonconformist, shouldn’t he be topping off a song like Mad World with a swan dive off a tall bridge? Instead, he stands firm in weathered cowboy boots, looks Simon in the eye without blinking, and humbly laughs off the suggestion that his non-country take on Ring of Fire is “pure rubbish.” That kind of self-love is a gift of indescribable proportions, and I envy it.

Adam inspires me not because he is openly gay, but because he is open. The immensity of his self-love comes from owning every aspect of his identity—nuances that extend far beyond whether he’s turned on by girls or guys, blondes or brunettes. Typically, coming out refers exclusively to the issue of sexual orientation, and yet sexuality is obviously just one component of anyone’s total self. Yes, Adam is out as a gay man, but he’s also out as a person confidently embracing every aspect of his mainstream and non-mainstream identity. Perhaps this is why there remains so much buzz about whether or not the guy is officially out. Whenever we hear that someone is coming out, we prepare the microphone. We expect a statement, a stand—maybe even an apology. With Adam, all of this hoopla seems sort of unnecessary. After all, he spends every moment in front of the microphone; his life is the statement.

Whether it’s from Adam’s example or just the arrival of the next big wave, I’ve been feeling an urgency to come out, too. Certainly, what I have to proclaim isn’t nearly as news-worthy as Adam’s ascent into the epicenter of pop culture, or nearly as defined as an issue of sexual orientation. But like Adam, I’m trying to get a hold on what it means to be me in this world I inhabit. As always, it comes down to issues of choice—not the kind that we check off on paper ballots, but the kind that emerge from such great depths they sometimes don’t feel like they’re up to us to make. They’re the choices we do not select so much as own. They’re the choices that at once change everything and—if we’re honest with ourselves—remain as irrefutable as destiny. Who am I and what do I prefer? Can I accept these choices? Can I accept and love myself?

Mad World

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Skinny Dipping

May 5

Posted by Kristen in Adam Lambert, Skinny Dipping

adamlambertI love REM’s Night Swimming, but I’ve never ever bared all. It’s not that I’m morally opposed to getting naked, or so vain that I need to hide behind my clothes. No, it’s not the exposure that scares me onto the sidelines. Passion is the problem. What if I like the experience a little too much?

Passion might seem like an odd obstacle. Who doesn’t want to feel excited, titillated, over the moon thrilled? But feeling passion also means feeling alive, and alive can be torturous sometimes. It’s like natural childbirth: amazing and beautiful and really freakin’ hard.

Recently, I was stunned silly by passion. I was watching American Idol—which I only ever watch casually—and I stumbled across the most magnetizing persona I’ve ever encountered. I say persona, because what I find most tantalizing about this guy is his ability to constantly and seamlessly reinvent himself. He is such a chameleon, I never feel like I can pin down his essence, and yet I am equally confident that he knows exactly who he is. It is this uncanny ability to at once stay true to himself and yet always elude his audience that has my system running on overload. The feelings he inspires in me are unsettling and sometimes downright unmanageable. Often, I can’t even name them. All I know for sure is that whenever Adam Lambert is on stage, I feel like he’s sending me a very personal message: take off your clothes and dive in.

What would I be diving into? The ocean Adam offers is breathtakingly expansive and terrifyingly deep. Everything about him, from his three-octave range to his exuberant lifestyle to his fearless risk-taking, is over the top. When asked about his experiences living in the Idol mansion, he was the only contestant to not complain about its massive scale. Whereas others would retreat to the safe confines of a closet, he takes on spaces so big, so vacant, the world seems almost too small to contain him. He is, undoubtedly, the spokesman for limitless potential.

What catapults this potential into the immortal realm, however, is Adam’s seemingly endless bravery. While most of us squander what little power we embody, Adam embraces every ounce of his vitality with the same unadulterated delight with which you can imagine him eating his favorite flavor of ice cream. The boy just does not flinch. Because he doesn’t flinch, he never seems to stand still, even when facing down a behemoth like American Idol; always, he moves forward, riding each new wave so fearlessly you have to wonder if he’s leaving the thought of drowning to the rest of us poor mortals.

My friend, Rebecca, says that the hardest part of writing a blog is walking a really fine line between honesty and self-indulgence. I’ve never been good with walking any line, and I’m especially bad at falling off. Adam Lambert doesn’t seem to worry about lines. If he did, he would have had no choice but to sing Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire straight up and dry. On stage and off, he seems to embrace life with a kind of fearless authenticity he makes seem as effortless as those notes he scales. I want to discover that authenticity in myself. I want to live without regrets.  But that means tripping over a whole bunch of lines. That means maybe even indulging in the self.

My guess about Adam is that he exudes so much power so fearlessly because he lets himself evolve. Key to evolving is the capacity to make choices. Adam’s fellow contestants have taken to calling him the Lamborghini, because he’s known for making song choices swiftly, and once he makes a choice, he races forward and never looks back. This isn’t to say that he doesn’t learn from his mistakes. Clearly, he understands the consequences of each decision. But while learning, he never laments. And in making these choices, he encourages his audience to take similar risks. Every time Adam refuses to play it safe, or fit in with the crowd, he reminds us that we have choices, too. And every time we come along for the ride—every time we show our faith in his risks—we declare ourselves decided. We choose. We evolve.

Will I ever be worthy of the words commonly used to describe Adam: fluid, brave, authentic? In my endeavor to evolve, Adam inspires me. He also unsettles me. I can only hope that the passion I feel waiting for every week’s performance is a sign of change.

This is a start. I’m taking off my clothes. One toe is in.

Ring of Fire

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