Everyone doesn't want to be a rock star

I was listening to a radio program about the popularity of Guitar Hero III. The interviewer was asking a couple of mega-fans about the game and their theories as to why it's so popular. One of them said, "It's like everyone's dream. Everyone, at some point in their lives wants to be a rock star."

Hmmm. I mused. Had I ever wanted to be a rock star? It wasn't my fantasy while in high school. Heck, I was barely aware of the pop music industry. Back then, I couldn't have told you the names of any rock stars beyond the Beatles -- and I didn't listen to them. I just knew of them. After high school? In college? After college? No. Being a rock star was never anything I wanted to be. That probably explains why I have zero interest in Guitar Hero I, II, or III. I just couldn't care less.

I clearly don't fit this fellow's vision of what "everyone" is like. I suppose that defines me as "no one" then. That's no surprise.

Such a narcissistic world view struck me as odd. This fellow sincerely seemed to think that everyone in the world was (deep down) just like HIM. I suppose that's not so odd. We tend to use ourselves as THE measure of what "normal" is. Democrats pontificate about how "everyone" wants the US to pull its troops out of Iraq immediately, because they do -- conveniently ignoring the existence of millions of people who disagree with them. A resident of New York City (or L.A.) bombasts about how everyone looks to NYC (or LA) as THE center of all that matters. Of course, all those folks in LA do NOT think NYC is the hub, nor do all the folks in NYC think LA is the hub. It's a pretty handy delusion, a neat way to win arguments, to simply "vanish" any opposing voices and presume that the world is in total agreement with you. The ultimate appeal to the numbers fallacy.

Not everyone does agree with them, of course, but they apparently don't exist, so it's no big deal. Note-to-self: Suspect any speaker who professes to know what "everyone" wants.

Self-inflicted hell

In his book, "The Great Divorce," CS Lewis created an interesting view of hell. He described hell as a vast empty city in perpetual twilight. At first, people lived close together, out of habit, mostly. As time went on, they would quarrel. Rather than reconcile they would create a new house farther away. If being two houses away wasn't enough, they'd move four houses away, etc. etc. Hence the vast empty city.

The people of hell wanted to accommodate only themselves. So, they all separated farther and farther apart. The house lights of the old ones, like Napoleon, could be seen, like distant stars on the horizon, many years journey away.

While Lewis was careful to remind readers that his "hell" was fictional, not biblical, it seems to fit the current world of (living) mankind. Deep down, we really don't seem to want to be bothered by each other. Oh sure, we want others to listen to us but we don't want to listen to others.

Tens of thousands of people post video blogs to YouTube. Hundreds of thousands of people post their feelings and thoughts on blogs. The posts are sometimes heartfelt, sincere, lonely, sad, tragic or thoughtful. But to what end?

To be sure, people watch some of the videos, read a few of the blogs, but nothing comes of it. They don't avoid the blogger, like the priest and Levite avoided the wounded Samaritan. Rather, they just watch or read silently, like New Yorkers who pass by a hurt homeless guy on the sidewalk. They peer out of curiosity, but don't want to get involved. The spectacle entertained them a little bit, but they're just spectating, not participating.

Our world seems filled with the tragically lonely, yet even these lonely will step over the "homeless" they encounter. A lonely teen will wish plaintively for someone to talk to, yet if I were to reply, she would have no interest in talking to me. We want others to listen to us but we don't want to be bothered listening to anyone else. We're lonely, but we're equally as selfish. We don't want to spend the time to be someone else's social outlet. We want to express thoughts, but don't want to be bothered by other people's thoughts.

We, like the people in Lewis' hell, live far apart -- by choice. We're living in a self-imposed hell. The problem is that we cannot rescue ourselves from this hell, we can only rescue someone else. There's the paradox. Since we're only interested in our own rescue, we stay prisoners in the dark empty city.