Saturday, December 27, 2008

What a Princess Wants...

Christmas has once again come and gone. Presents exchanged, gifts opened and love received. Santa didn’t bring me the Millennium Falcon this year, but was generous enough to fill my Doctor Who and Muppet Show requests. I know it’s all “PC” and stuff to be grateful for what you have but it’s in our nature to always want a little bit more. Wishes can sometimes be extravagant, like a gold bedspread or a Star Wars toy, or they can be simple, like requests for world peace, universal harmony and an unclogged toilet drain. For many of us, wishes are dreams that help get us through the day, filling our thoughts with flights of fantasy and hope. For others, wishes are just wants of something to have. A desire to simply possess what has yet to be acquired. Like a princess in her castle, looking for another prince that’s a little better than the current model or just desiring a extra diamond on her ring.

Caroline Kennedy grew up in the public eye as the Princess of Camelot. A slideshow posted on Huffington Post shows Caroline evolving from a little girl playing with her puppy to a bubblegum-blowing graduate to an urban socialite. In every image, Ms. Kennedy is very much a princess, echoing back to a time which was never as innocent as the country thought. Like ancient fairy tales, we believe in princesses because we always have. They exist in all mythologies and into the present day. Princesses exist because we want them to.

The interesting thing about princesses is they tend to be perceived better as an image. Beauty, perpetual style, grace and composure makes for a great magazine cover. Glossy photos, a perfect smile and elegance which could steal the desire of any man. However, pictures are just pictures and interviews are just calculated PR. There is only imagination, no reality. Thoughts are enough for many people, which is why those moronic magazines continue to fly off shelves week after week. If a copy of US Weekly or OK! is in your bathroom – THIS IS YOU.

Every man at some time in their life wants to marry a princess. If they say they don’t/didn't, they’re either full of it or gay. Come on, nobody fantasizes about marrying a dirtbag, despite continual occurrences of this relationship. As a confessed dater of both and the potential father of another, my “inner Linus” definitely prefers the princess. For those of you who are not familiar with real, live princesses, I’ll share what knowledge I have of this curious species and hope it provides insight into the intentions of Ms. Kennedy.

Princesses are smart, so smart in fact that many tend to hide their full intelligence, preferring to utilize it when it is most applicable. The can fix a broken toilet, they just don’t want to. Trust me, if they have a Master’s Degree, they understand the basics of household plumbing. Princesses are graceful, dancing not only with movement but also with words. Kind phrases go a long way with a great smile and flashing eyelashes. They understand the subtleness and warmth of a delicate kiss. Relishing being the center of attention with an attitude of a playful kitten, once they have your eye it’s on to the next prize. It is important to note even kittens have claws.

Princesses are an ambitious bunch. Whether the goal is love, a promotion or finding assistance with the plumbing, they always seem to be planning ahead. Princesses are rarely, if ever, hermits. To hang with a princess one has to endure social engagements with the fortitude of a marathon runner. There’s always more and there will be even more after that. A princess rarely retires to a place of contemplation other than their room, which tends to have a mystery to it like a locked jewelry box. If you’re looking to spend your later years in the Shire or in a cave like Obi-Wan, they will never come. There is always a new challenge, a new prize to place in the jewelry box. Once they have their prize, a princess always finds another to attain. They just can't quite get satisfaction.

By announcing her intention to seek the New York Senate appointment, Ms. Kennedy has forced to public to reexamine the idealized image it has had of her for four decades. Is she really the daughter of Camelot, wanting only to continue the legacy of her family? Or is she just an opportunist who desires the Senate appointment merely because it is something she does not have? Maybe, like many princesses, she’s become bored with being a socialite. Kennedy’s blundering PR tour across New York certainly suggests one of the latter reasons. Her interviews are evasive and vague at best, implying an inner surprise that a princess such as herself would be subjected to such menial vetting. The New York Times reported Kennedy cut off an interviewer on Saturday. Not quite the stuff of political savvy but perfect behavior for a princess who thinks she is entitled to what is hers by right and not merit.

I didn’t receive my Senate appointment for Christmas. I didn’t expect to but thought Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich might consider it if he woke up one day in a giggly mood. I guess I just wasn’t rich enough, influential enough, manipulative enough or cute enough for the job. I didn’t fit the Caroline Kennedy type, although my record collection is way cooler than hers. Other than the aforementioned qualities, I think our resumes with respect to a U.S. Senate seat are pretty much the same.

Caroline Kennedy’s ambition is taking its toll on her long-crafted image. She no longer looks graceful, but cautious. Her smile is weathered and composure cracked. If this is the fate of Camelot’s Princess, it is a sad one indeed. No one wants to watch a princess fall. Although I’ve been critical of princesses in this piece, I never stated I did not love them. To have the affections of a princess, even for a short time, is like watching a blooming flower rising from the morning sun or holding a Grecian urn and pondering its true meaning. The experience stays with you, becomes the stuff of dreams, cursing you with joy. It would be a shame to have those thoughts shattered like priceless porcelain on a concrete floor.

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