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Do You Read This Stuff?
03-25-2005
by Amy E. Dixon
My friend Rachel picked up an issue of People Magazine.
“You read this stuff?” she asked as she flipped through the pages.
“Not really,” I replied. She shrugged. “Oh, I do. I just can’t read one more thing about Iraq or the tsunami.”
I shrugged back. And I felt kind of bad, because I felt my answer was only halfway. And I think she felt a bit judged, even though I never said what I admit I thought: That stuff is garbage.
I really don’t read People, or Us or any other of the Hollywood tabloid-type magazines. But I truly am a junkie of all media fluff. I read InStyle, Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Teen Vogue, Latina. And if People was the only magazine on the coffee table at the doctor’s office, well then I’d read it, too. Guilty.
It really is hard to constantly absorb the severity of political, financial and natural issues faced daily by much of the world. Admittedly, I’d rather bury my head in the sand than read about death and destruction, violence and mental anguish, lies and deception. I’d rather nap to reruns of Style Star than flip the channel to the network news. But, as with everything, there must be balance.
Admirably, many of my friends are quite literary and overwhelmingly artistic and interesting. I find myself wishing I understood, as well as they do, the meanings of political doings and cultural happenings. Those things just don’t seem to pique my curiosity as well as others. My brain just rather floweth over with this season’s must have colors, the best places to bargain shop, the newest trends in dinner parties, or whatever. There is nothing about Christianity that says we’re not allowed to have fun, or look nice, or entertain friends. It just seems like a disservice to my faith, one that is bound to “love one another,” if I fail to acknowledge the goings-on of the world outside of gossip columns and TV makeover shows. How can I love the others of this world if I fail to learn anything about them? Even though it’s not an easy task for me personally, there’s something about calling myself a “follower of Christ” that makes me feel… well, responsible for having some kind of handle on the world’s events. To recognize most of the world does not live in the comfort that I do, to try to understand a framework of the politics that rule my country, to realize Hollywood and the music industry, fashion and even reality TV are primarily manufactured for my entertainment (and my dollar), well, these things hopefully keep my head out of the clouds.
Now, I’m not suggesting that Rachel, or I, run out a pick up the latest hardbound analysis of international politics. But there are some ways I have trained myself to keep an eye on the world. When I go to the coffee shop and pick up the day’s paper, I at least turn the pages of every section leading up to the comics. The Get Fuzzy cartoon is my reward for gleaning some info about the important news of the day. Some days, a scan of the headlines and a read of the news bites from all of the states is all I muster. But there are plenty of other days when I find myself caught up in other stories. And when those friends I admire for being so knowledgeable start a conversation about a world event, I might even be able to chime in, or at least listen in and understand, because I remember reading the first few paragraphs of a newspaper article about it. My effort at scanning the headlines and photo captions is equivalent to reading the crawlers on new channels like CNN. TV News is another easy way to glean information at the laundry, the pizza place or the gym, anywhere just in passing, while I’m doing other things.
I suspect I won’t ever become a news junkie, or wake up with sunlight to take in the whole newspaper before I’m off to work. But I feel better about myself since watching the world’s happenings has become second nature. I feel better educated, more “well-rounded,” if you will. And all that fluffy stuff about clothes and celebrities and music is all the more enjoyable to read about. It’s like dessert, which really is better when you eat it last.
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