Han pasado ya 3 meses desde mi último post y la verdad que extraño escribir sobre moda pero siempre es importante cerrar algunos capítulos antes de iniciar otros. Adoro escribir sobre moda, amo la moda y espero que algún día la moda sea algo que pueda hacer a tiempo completo, tengo grandes sueños con ella, pero mientras debo terminar una carrera de contabilidad que termina para mediados del año que viene, y que me está exigiendo mucho tiempo, así como dedicar un tiempo no negociable a mi hija, mi trabajo y mi vida personal. No escribo para Vogue pero sí que me tomo en serio los artículos que escribo!, y para que uno vea la luz puedo pasarme hasta 4 horas investigando y buscando calidad para ofrecerles… tiempo que lamentablemente no tengo ahora.
Anyway, hoy leí un hermoso articulo de un blog que sigo muy de cerca www.epicglee.tumbrl.com que quería compartir a pesar de que no tiene nada que ver con moda pero que mientras leía me hizo llorar hasta decir: Rayos! Es mi blog, puedo postear lo que sienta!
Sin intención de defender, crear controversia o convencer a nadie puedo decir que la muerte de Cory Monteith ha impactado mi vida de gran manera (ni yo misma imaginaba como me impactaría cuando leí la noticia por primera vez). Ame su personaje Finn desde la primera vez que vi Glee, aquel muchacho joven, alto, popular pero con gran corazón y pasión por el canto se robó un pedazo de mi junto con Rachel (Lea Michele), conocí canciones (Si! aun canto a todo pulmón, Don´t stop believing) y clásicos que en mi cortos años de vida no había escuchado hasta que llega el momento en el que los escritores dañan las series y Finn y Rachel terminan y entran tantos personajes nuevos sin gracia y debes parar de ver la serie a mitad de la temporada 4, enterándote en ocasiones de que va pasando para no perder el hilo.
Ha sido tan lamentable para mí que haya perdido su batalla contra las adicciones y me ha hecho cambiar tantas cosas de mi forma de pensar que puedo decir que ahora trato de no poner etiquetas a los demás, juzgo menos, comprendo mas, entiendo que mi papel como madre en la es más importante de lo que yo pensaba y que mi paso de la vida no se mide por el dinero o bienes que tenga sino por las vidas que toque. Muchas cosas pueden o no salir en la prensa pero siempre he formado mi opinión sobre las cosas y mi opinión sobre Cory es la misma que comparto en este artículo. Aunque no soy una fan de seguir la vida personal de las celebridades, el caso de Cory fue distinto para mí. No fue la típica celebridad que se hace rica, famosa y luego empieza a hacer de su vida escándalos sobre escándalos, a consumir drogas, golpear a otros, subir fotos sin ropa y a ser arrestado por conducir bajo la influencia del alcohol. Sino todo lo contrario, parecería que la fama lo hacía ser mejor persona porque sabía su responsabilidad ante sus fans, su trabajo lo hacía permanecer limpio a pesar de que luchó con su adicción desde los 12 años (edad en la que no eres capaz ni de atar bien tus zapatos) y con el hecho de ser abandonado por su padre a los 7 cuando se divorcio de su madre… Todas esas cosas sin duda lo marcaron. Hoy día más de 3 organizaciones sin fines de lucro han quedado sin su soporte.
No es mi papel liberarlo o condenarlo… Quien soy yo para juzgar si al final todos también tenemos nuestras luchas y demonios? Todos luchamos día a día contra la baja autoestima, la aceptación, los malos hábitos, las adicciones y diferentes desordenes… pero este es mi modo, de decir que estarás por siempre en mi corazón Cory Monteith como el alto, torpe, drummer, actor y canadiense, como persona y como mi hermoso Finn de Glee. Glee nunca será lo mismo sin ti y las ocurrencias e inocencia de Finn.
Hope you are resting in peace now… Forever in my heart ♥
Just my two cents – Article
I am not a teenage fan. I am 63 years old and think, from the interviews and articles I’ve read, that Cory Monteith was truly a “good man” in the best sense of the words. Regardless of the addiction that began when he was only 13 (and which he fought the rest of his life), he is considered by all who have spoken about him to be loving and kind, humble, other-directed, smart, talented, and hard working. He was joyful in his life and always grateful for it, as well as for his opportunities in his profession. He was known for always taking time for fans—something most actors do not bother with except on a limited, superficial basis. He wanted particularly to help young people whose lives were similar to his as a child—to help them have hope, to help them find ways for their abilities and gifts to shine through. The charities he chose (and worked with personally) attest to that desire.
I am not a celebrity follower, just a retired public high school English teacher. Mr. Monteith’s death was the first—and the only—celebrity’s death ever to affect me in any sort of meaningful way. As a teacher, I used to watch some of my students struggle with addiction and hard circumstances, knowing that, for many, these problems would follow them throughout their lives. That is the main reason I took such pleasure in following Mr. Monteith’s career—rejoicing that he had seemingly overcome the addiction that had haunted him since his youth. I saw him work hard to sing better and also to dance—something that did not come easily to him. I saw him stretch his acting range, getting involved in artistic pursuits other than “Glee”—characters very different from his television persona. I watched his joy as he played drums with his band.
Mr. Monteith has made a lasting mark on those who knew him or knew about him. I hope (and suspect) that his experience will encourage us to look more closely at drug and alcohol addiction to discover how addicts can better be helped. Mr. Monteith was not a typical Hollywood actor who misused his fame and money just to get high, to hurt those around him, and ultimately to destroy himself. Simplistic assumptions are so easy to make! To those who are quick to label anyone as “just an addict,” without knowing more about that person—well, they appear unwilling to look beneath the stereotype to try to understand how choices, sometimes made by only children, can affect people forever. Clearly, though, here was someone who wanted desperately to be rid of his addiction and who worked very hard to make something of his life. I suspect that Mr. Monteith will be most remembered as the man he became—not “just another addict,” but a good man who worked hard, cared deeply about others, tried to help those who struggled, and had great joy in life itself. His legacy will be a far more valuable one than that of some who receive accolades in silly award shows—exercises in self-congratulation and patting one another’s backs. Whether the Emmy awards program decides to honor Mr. Monteith or to snub him, I expect that his overall impact on the world will exceed that of many actors with years of accolades under their belts.
Cory monteith: More than an addict
Written by Elena Novak, a senior at Florida State University
Now we can talk about it.
Now that we know for sure that Cory Monteith’s death was related to substance abuse, we’re ready to have a conversation about it without fear of making assumptions.
So let’s talk. Let’s talk about addiction, which isn’t something that you can “just stop.” I’ve seen comments on articles and posts blaming him for “choosing” this lifestyle, as if it’s no surprise that a rich, entitled celebrity managed to off himself, as if the fact that he was a celebrity makes him no less of a human being, as if it’s impossible to conceive of a decades-long struggle with a problem that you can’t just quit, no more than a smoker has an easy time of keeping a cigarette out of his mouth.
It’s addiction – to some, it’s a disease, and we’ve all faced it in some form. Some of us watch pornography, some of us work out obsessively, some of us have eating disorders, some of us even watch too much damn Netflix. It doesn’t matter what you’re addicted to – I can guarantee that nearly every one of us can come up with something, small struggles like biting our nails or big struggles like Cory’s, and none of them are easy to kick.
I want us to stop acting like we know, like we can imagine what he was going through in a way that allows us to judge, to say “what the hell were you thinking, stupid boy?” We don’t know. We can’t all possibly fathom how a broken childhood could lead to self-destructive behavior, and how an addiction that began at 13-years-old can still plague our lives at 31.
Yet no matter what you can say about a lot of celebrities with histories of substance abuse, I doubt it applies to Cory. He wasn’t withdrawn, he wasn’t mean or hurtful to others, he didn’t tout his privilege and incur special treatment. Instead – and those who knew him testify to this – he was kind. He was generous. He was funny. He inspired people with his role on Glee, and he worked his butt off to get to where he was.
Most importantly, he was a person. He was a son, a friend, a devoted boyfriend. He fought hard against his demons, and he lost. Does that make him weak, or does that make him one of us? How many times have we lost a battle with our demons, returned to our obsessions? We are different only in that we survived. And if we don’t work hard to stop it, the cycle will start again.
So let’s change the conversation. Let’s stop blaming and judging, and let’s start looking for ways to help. Let’s evaluate our own lives and examine the areas in which we’ve allowed something harmful to take hold of us. Let’s celebrate the life of Cory Monteith and others who fell prey to the terrible beast of addiction instead of pretending we are somehow better than them. The loss of a human life is always tragic, no matter the circumstance, but if we stop trying to diminish the value of an addict’s life long enough to just listen, we might be able to hear them warning us: You’re not immune.