Found this last night in my daughter’s school-book as she did her homework.
I never really thought about support in those terms before. It was timely. It’s been on my mind. Support. Namely cos I’ve never really felt so supported – nor indeed, have I had to ask so much for it – as I have this year. Truly. I am sick of the sound of my own cyber-voice. Honestly. I want to scream at myself “ENOUGH ALREADY! People can only take so much of your incessant call to arms!”
Stopping me from stabbing myself in the tongue with a pitchfork, however, is:
a) the reality that I don’t even know whether pitchforks actually exist anymore; and
b) the awesomeness of peeps actually getting behind this crazy campaign. Despite the fact I just spent the past two months screaming at them to support the charity fundraiser.
No kidding. Over the weekend, thanks to a bunch of you guys pledging in one hit, we managed to make the “Popular” list on pozible, and as I type this we are sitting at the 44% mark of our goal. I’m madly thinking up some extra surprise goodies to give to you guys, just to say thank you.
By the way, if you haven’t yet checked out Pozible, you really should. Not just cos of me. There are SO many amazing projects on there, it really is something else. I’ve already pledged some $ myself to some highly worthy projects, including:
2) a friend’s doco about gay marriage; and
I also just found out about this ROCKING project to record a new CD called Choristry, directed by a new cabaret friend I made this year, the scrumptious Trevor Jones.
Do I sound cool now? COS DAMN I FEEL IT!
Truly. Try it. Instant self-esteem boost: support somebody.
Doesn’t matter who. Hopefully not a wench or a war-lord. But my point in writing this post is not to say “me, me, me!” (I’ve done enough of that to last me a lifetime in the past week alone thank you very much), but to just point out that in general, it is a rocking thing indeed to get behind folks who are attempting grand acts of creativity. We need cheerleaders. Champions. Financial and otherwise. And it feels good to BE a cheerleader and a champion.
It’s like being in a moshpit (full disclosure: haven’t been in one since my heady teen Pearl Jam days) and you’re part of the living mass of hands holding up a crowd-surfer. Even though somebody else is up there riding the wave, feeling the adrenalin rush, you are still part of that trip. Your hands combine with those of masses of strangers for those few short seconds, to create a ride that otherwise would just be some random smashing their spine on the floor while you look on with shrugged shoulders. But they’re not. And you’re not. For those few moments, you are all part of something.
Or you are just holding your arms up desperately hoping to avoid a boot in your eye.
Either way, you’re still keeping somebody from falling. And holding them up.