Attention Whore

Attention Whore

I was driving down a road surrounded by desert, alone. My long, flowing hair was scattered in the wind because I had the top down—unbothered by the sun that beamed down on only me. My shiny candy apple red convertible was the only color breaking up the royal earth tones of the scenery I traveled through. I caught a glance at myself in the rearview mirror and was flattered at the sight: oversized black sunglasses on the face of a woman on a mission. A mission I didn’t know the details to.

I finally got to my main destination, Vegas and resorted to being even more confused—because Vegas, Sin City, was empty.

There were no by standers, there was no traffic, there was no sound—just the flamboyant buildings that made up Vegas—with only me as a possible occupant.

Where were the people who craved the drama and lust of life? Where was the world that this city was known for, the world of the best and the worst, the ugly and the beautiful?

Why am I here, I thought to myself but as much as I myself was lost, my hands knew where to take me as it steered the vehicle from street to street until I ended up in front of a grand apartment complex that beckoned me to come in, as if I belonged and my presence was overdue.

In what seemed like the flash of a second, I was standing in front of a beautiful view. A breathtaking view.  The floor to ceiling windows lined a whole wall that was high above the city. I was taken aback from the experience of the view but an unsettling feeling began to set in my stomach because this view gave even more evidence that I was alone, very much alone. There were no beings scattered about. Vegas seemed completely forgotten and abandoned.

I cautiously walked around the penthouse apartment that was furnished with all that screamed luxury and high maintenance. I made inventory of the flat pool in the middle of the floor that was laminated by a lavender color, mirrors that lined my bedroom and a closet full of diamonds, pearls and shoes for all walks of life. There were clothes made of the most expensive material, all in my size. A vanity mirror that seemed to be my second home, I assumed I had spent many hours in front of this mirror accomplishing a look that would get both hate and praise.

The only person now left to criticize and impress was the reflection in the mirror.

As familiar as this all was designed to be, it could have not been more unfamiliar. How to explain this cluster of emotions? And again, I asked why I was here. Why did I feel like a stranger to something that was clearly mine? Why did it not resonate?

As if a bolt of lightning had struck down upon my head, I realized the underlining motive: I was dreaming. All of this was a dream, a dream that had such meaning that I knew I had to pay close attention if I were to understand.

I was now in the presence and power of inception. A practice and process I know all too well.

I stood still and took inventory of all I could before the fine line of dream and reality broke. What is the message? What am I being told?

I was successful, highly successful. I had all that I desired: money, cars, clothes and living within the limits of that of spectacular, so why did it seem so sad? Why did this seem so unworthy and juvenile? Why had what I dreamed of seemed so pathetic?

Because I was alone in the world, the last person on Earth, surrounded by all the things I strive for in life, real life, and no one to share it with, or better yet, no one to show it off to.

Could the whole purpose of this dream was to note that along with the aspiration to be successful; I also wanted to be seen being successful? I needed an audience along with the success?

I awoke from the dream and remained in the bed for a good while trying to collect my thoughts, emotions and feelings. Dreaming such determined and illustrative dreams exhausts me but it was something I had to been shown in order to ponder.

I’ve heard the harsh criticism of those who seek to be the center of attention, “attention whores” is what the bluntest call them. How desperate those attention whores must be. How lowly we look down on them.

Why is that?

You will never hear someone clearly state that they enjoy or seek people’s attention because no one wants to look petty and superficial. The reason we pick apart those who do is because just the thought of someone wanting praise for such is unacceptable. They can’t do that! How dare they do that, go about life showing off and flashing their success in front of our faces!

There is a thin and blurry line between attention and recognition. There are those who are just flat out obnoxious and need to be brought down to earth, quickly. But does every person who flaunts themselves deserve to be thrown into the same category? Should all keep quiet and dare not assume the position of displaying themselves, even if they are well qualified to do so?

Could it be that the “attention whore” never intended to be one on display but the game of life placed them there? And that no matter how hard they try, they will never be one to blend in, be looked over, fly under the radar?

Could it be that some people are just meant and made to be in the spotlight, while others are meant to be backstage, or in the audience?

One can not survive without the other.

So why break the platform of those headliners by calling them superficial? Narcissistic? Full of themselves?

It's amazing how we are so quick to look down on those who show off, the ones that are branded "attention whores" and whose anthems include that of Kanye West's "Flashing Lights"---they make too much noise, yes? They need to take a seat and stop obtaining too much attention, yes?

I don't believe they are met with rolling eyes because of their blunt and unapologetic sense of superficiality---but because they have the nerve and gall to admit and do it. To admit that you enjoy being seen or to even hint at it; throws you into the fire! You are not supposed to consider yourself in such high regard---right?

We all want attention, even if we claim we don't, we do. That's why Facebook likes, YouTube views, Twitter followers, Instagram reposts hold so much power and control because as much as we may shake our heads, we just want to be liked and popular in someone's eyes. 

You don't have to admit it, I know there are some images out there that need to be maintained but the next time you scoff or give your 2 cents about Beyonce, Jay-Z, Kanye, Kim, Rihanna, etc. or those on the bottom of the food chain such as myself, I dare you to answer the question: "Why you mad?".

“The greatest gift you can give another is the purity of your attention.” –Richard Moss

Yours Truly,

-@BMynroe 

(RaChelle-Denise McKinney)

xoxo