Poor Troubled Paris. Fame and Fortune Cannot Cure What Ails Her

by: Betsy L. Angert

Sat Jun 09, 2007 at 11:00:00 AM EDT

I feel a need to preface this discussion with an admission.  I am unfamiliar with the life of celebrities not only do I know none personally; only on the rarest occasions do I go to the movies.  Commercial television does not play in my presence.  I hold no contempt for the illustrious few.  I only find it difficult to relate to a life or the telling of stories that seem so far from my own or the reality of millions.  I watch and listen to news. As was once uttered on old time television, I prefer 'Just the facts please.'

According to papers filed in Los Angeles' Superior Court, Ms Hilton was stopped by California Highway Patrol officers on 15 January and informed she was driving on a suspended licence.

The 26-year-old then reportedly signed a document acknowledging she was not allowed to drive.

On 27 February, she was stopped by Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department for speeding on Sunset Boulevard with her car's headlights off and charged with violating her probation.

Although Ms Hilton maintained she was not aware her licence had been suspended, court papers said the document she signed in January was found in her car's glove compartment.

She was also accused of failing to enroll in an alcohol education programme by a court-ordered deadline.

Within hours she was notified, she must return to court, perhaps to prison.  She panicked, rejected the "request;" however, ultimately was ordered to appear before the court.  The life of this socialite has taken on a form of frenzy unlike the former fervor.  Paris Hilton is now the most popular topic on programs that in the past thought her life far from profound.  Hilton is in the news and not for the family hotels.

This week, in viewing informative reports, I, as was all of America, inundated with opinion pieces, revealing monologues, dialogues, and edifying rumors each pertaining to the long, lean, and lanky Paris Hilton.  Initially, I felt as many broadcasters mused.  "Why are we spending so much time on this story?" 

Then, as I reflected further, I realized this was not a vicarious delight.  The poor watched and listened not
  to revel in the fall of the rich.  Witnessing the spoiled suffer brought no joy.  Vengeance is not the motivator.  People are absorbed for indeed, Paris is you and I; she is each of us.  Perchance her activities occur on a larger scale or possibly, they are only more in the limelight.

Paris is poor; she is troubled.  The girl is lost as are we all at times.  Fame and fortune cannot cure what ails her.  Prison will not serve the sentence for her convictions.  Drugs and driving have not helped this young woman much; they may have helped her escape her hurts for a moment or two. 

Perhaps, she thought she would find solace in a bottle, a syringe, a bong, or a toke. How many of us have escaped or tried to flee our inner pain. 

Some of us have surrounded ourselves with people.  In a crowd, we hope to feel less lonely.  Others of us chose greater intimacy.  We deeply longed to feel connected.  "Sleeping" with the warm body of another might help us feel alive.  Perhaps we wanted to be noticed, to be important, to be the topic or conversation or at least known to a significant few.  Apparently, from the little I know Paris has tried each of these methods for reducing her pain.

I had not truly thought about her motives or the meaning of her life until I heard, she screamed for her mother when handed her sentence.  Paris Hilton would return to prison.  Perchance she never left.  She built her own cage long ago.  The difference between the County Jail and the Hilton home is in one she must face her demons without medication or distraction.

Some say this lovely is famous for nothing more than her looks.  Others think her money brings much interest.  Possibly these do provide perks.  Nonetheless, advantages reap no assistance.  Affluence and abundance beyond what most can conceive may in fact amplify her feelings and the desire to avoid what harms her.

As I listen to the hype, the hoopla, the hate speaks, and the honors bestowed upon this "celebrity that contributes nothing to society," I marvel.  While it is true soldiers and citizens are dying in Iraq, the infrastructure is crumbling, forty-plus million people are without health insurance, nine million children do not have medical coverage, and the schools are in shambles, I do not think the nations' fascination with Paris is merely a distraction. 

Interestingly, at times, I surmise the focus on the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan divert us from what is important.  That is sad.  Intellectually I understand every entity, each event, and all aspects of life are vital and essential.  However, egocentric as human beings are we forget this.  We focus on what we believe is best, most significant, or imperative.

As we ponder, we feel the pain.  Everyone does.  They, you, I have different methods for handling hurts.  Some go to war.  Depending on their authority they may feud at home or fight across the Atlantic.  Others drown their sorrows; they bathe in booze.  Drugs do a number on a hurting heart or head.  Food was my favorite folly for quite some time.  Indulging in various delights can be all consuming.  Whatever the form of escape, people usually choose one or a combination of many.

None of these help to heal the pain.  Nor do they fully avert our attention.  Each is an attempt.  While I observe Paris plays pretty, I am reminded George performs powerfully.  Neither accepts that what they do has an effect on others.  Alas, few of us do.  We criticize, censure, find fault and at times, aptly so.  When we witness one person wounding another or placing lives in danger, there is ample reason to speak out.  However, if we, in turn defame  who the person is rather than what they have done, or are doing then perhaps we are projecting, reacting to our own fears.  There but for the grace of G-d go I.

Possibly, that is the lesson we can learn from the Paris paradigm.  When we ask ourselves 'Should Paris be punished,' are we to assess whether we are choosing to chastise the person or her behaviors.  Do we forgive and forget or do we attempt to understand the individual.

Granted, the young and lovely one might be labeled a millennium, part of that particular generation.  Paris could be considered among those that "celebrates diversity."  She could be thought an optimistic, realist.  As others of her generation she is" self-inventive" and certainly an "individual."  Oh yes, she "rewrites the rules."  We have witnessed this capacity all week, month, year, or longer.  Paris Hilton could be characterize as a person with a killer lifestyle.  Repeatedly driving on a suspended license might help to define her "irreverence for institutions."  This beauty was definitely "nurtured" and she does think of her "family as friends."

George W. Bush might be thought of as a "baby boomer."  He too may have benefited from being born into a family of means, one that was well known and connected in ways that yours and mine were not.  Possibly, his background brought him higher highs and lower lows.  I cannot know with certainty.  Nonetheless, I do trust  that as a boomer he may have "never stopped celebrating him self.

Baby Boomers, those born after the Second World War and before the sixties revolution were also indulged, rebellious, and willing to assert themselves.  Just as the millenniums do, the boomers frequently sought solace in mind-altering substances.  Possibly every generation does, has, or will unless or until we as a society help each other come to terms with ourselves.  Perchance he is not as categorized at all.  Are you, am I?  I suspect those that know what appear to be the facts have defined each of us.

Humans often teach and preach about the problems that exist in the world and rarely reflect on the pain they feel.  We compete against each other; thus creating greater strife.  We battle the little boy or girl within.  We are never good enough, strong enough, pretty enough, or truly lovable.

As a culture, we create awards for every accomplishment.  We acknowledge what is done.  The millenniums feel lonely; yet, in school, at home, on the playground parents made sure they were never alone.  The boomers think themselves isolated.  Mommy and Daddy spent more money, than "quality" time with them.  I trust the "silent generation" thought they suffered.  The X and Ys also could complain and did.

Humans, I believe are here to learn.  The lesson most vital is the one most of us miss.  Who are we; why are we here may be essential questions.  However, I think these may torment us.  Perhaps, if we accept  that nothing is more significant than the relationship we have with every other entity, inclusive of ourselves, we could feel more connected and still singularly unique. 

Sadly, humans tend to see them selves as separate or an integral part of a group.  The world is black or white.  I am a winner or a loser.  People struggle to realize they are whole, and intertwined.  They are not solitary souls or an assemblage.  I offer the wisdom of the Wave Story.

"I heard a nice little story the other day," Morrie says.  He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.
"Okay.  The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time.  He's enjoying the wind and the fresh air -- until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore.  "
"'My God, this is terrible,' the wave says 'Look what's going to happen to me!'"
"Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, 'Why do you look so sad?' "
"The first wave says, 'You don't understand! We're all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?' "
"The second wave says, 'No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean.' "
I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again.
"Part of the ocean," he says. "Part of the ocean." I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.
- Tuesdays with Morrie, page 179

I ask each of us to reflect and realize, Paris Hilton is you and I.  She is each and every one of us.  Pampered or poor, she struggles to fit in, to feel fulfilled.  She is as confused as are we all.  Might we contemplate that empathy is the best educator.  If we accept this, there would be no war.  Poverty would go poof.  Education would be distributed equally.  The super-rich would not create a poor underclass to serve their needs.  Crime would be intermittent; it would be a product of an evolving soul.  In a solid society, there would be many teachers.  Every one of us might mentor as we  too evolve.  Ah, would that not be lovely.

For now, I invite us to muse.  Paris in a concrete prison or a psychological jail is as we are, troubled and trying to find a way to thrive.  Time to think might do her good; it might do us all well to reflect.  I am not passing judgment or stating the woman should go free.  I believe that often we evolve only when we wound ourselves more seriously than others might. 

Others may wish to punish us; however, what others do to us does not affect us as deeply as what we do to ourselves.  Those that wish to love us too much may influence what we do.  Persons that long to wrong us may indeed wound our soul.  However, no one has the power to transform us, although they wish they did.  Perhaps, they feel they were severely punished in their lives; thus, we too must suffer.

Indeed, I think trials and tribulations abound.  Poor Paris.  Poor you and I.  Oh, the prisons we build and the walls that confine us.

Hilton Hype.  Pondering and Paris . . .