Hawkins and Blow: Two Hats, One Head
Nobody’s Opinion: What does a poor 19-year old boy named Robbie Hawkins from Omaha, Nebraska, and a rich 48-year old fashion Icon of London named Isabella Blow have in common?
Well, it wasn’t the proclivity to wear funny hats.
They both, even though they grew up in different classes and on different continents, suffered from the same conditions: horrible bouts of depression, hopelessness, anger, and a great longing to “Be famous.”
They wanted out.
The only difference between these two lost souls is that Robbie took others along with him into his suicidal pain of escape, while Isabella just beat up on herself.
When a woman takes another life along with her in her insane moment of suicidal despair, it’s usually her own children. Men, on the other hand, seem to have no problem at all in taking as many lives as they can hit. It’s as if they figure---Hey, might as well be Rambo.
In both cases, innocent people get hurt.
While Robbie dressed up in hunting gear and went hunting with a SKS semi-automatic, Isabella just drank weed poisoning.
Isabella, well known Vogue icon in elite circles of fashion, made it to 48--- but not because she wanted to. She had tried to overdosed on sleeping pills, someone found her: jumped off a 30-foot pedestrian pass, but just broke her angles: tried to do a Virginia Woolf by filling her pockets with stones and walking into a river, but she kept floating: tried another couple of overdoses, with no luck: until her final decision of drinking weed poisoning, did the trick. And because she died more slowly, she had the time to design herself a wonderful funeral.
Isabella, like Robbie, wasn’t feeling too good about her chances in life. Like Robbie, she too had come from a broken home. She had become well known in the fashion world, and had quite a few successes as an eccentric who created very weird and funny hats. She helped many a multinational business make money. She found talent.
But she felt unappreciated. She kept getting…well, walked on.
It happens. Creative people very often have no sense of business.
Everyone who came in contact with both these people knew that something was not quite right, but had no clue what to do about it. After all, most people have to live their own lives…go to work, pay the bills, watch a movie---get sleep.
They don’t understand why anyone would even want to kill themselves, let alone kill other people. They don’t understand the difference between the usual “My Dad Just Passed Away and I’m not feeling too good” to the “I Hate Myself So Much---I’m So Worthless--- I’ve Just Got Do Something!”
Robbie had plenty of problems. Broken family, homeless, alcohol problems, girlfriend problems, and then the final insult--fired from McDonalds.
You can’t get much lower than that.
But so what you say? Lots of kids have these problems, and they don’t go around shooting up malls.
Most kids don’t have what they call “clinical depression.” That kind of genetic condition is much like being born with your father’s brown eyes. Mixed that with all of Robbie’s problems and you’ve got a ticking bomb.
Too many of our kids are on drugs, having promiscuous sex, cheating on tests, and drinking themselves into stupors on weekends. Maybe Robbie felt whatever crimes he committed was little in comparison to his peer group.
Well, it wasn’t the proclivity to wear funny hats.
They both, even though they grew up in different classes and on different continents, suffered from the same conditions: horrible bouts of depression, hopelessness, anger, and a great longing to “Be famous.”
They wanted out.
The only difference between these two lost souls is that Robbie took others along with him into his suicidal pain of escape, while Isabella just beat up on herself.
When a woman takes another life along with her in her insane moment of suicidal despair, it’s usually her own children. Men, on the other hand, seem to have no problem at all in taking as many lives as they can hit. It’s as if they figure---Hey, might as well be Rambo.
In both cases, innocent people get hurt.
While Robbie dressed up in hunting gear and went hunting with a SKS semi-automatic, Isabella just drank weed poisoning.
Isabella, well known Vogue icon in elite circles of fashion, made it to 48--- but not because she wanted to. She had tried to overdosed on sleeping pills, someone found her: jumped off a 30-foot pedestrian pass, but just broke her angles: tried to do a Virginia Woolf by filling her pockets with stones and walking into a river, but she kept floating: tried another couple of overdoses, with no luck: until her final decision of drinking weed poisoning, did the trick. And because she died more slowly, she had the time to design herself a wonderful funeral.
Isabella, like Robbie, wasn’t feeling too good about her chances in life. Like Robbie, she too had come from a broken home. She had become well known in the fashion world, and had quite a few successes as an eccentric who created very weird and funny hats. She helped many a multinational business make money. She found talent.
But she felt unappreciated. She kept getting…well, walked on.
It happens. Creative people very often have no sense of business.
Everyone who came in contact with both these people knew that something was not quite right, but had no clue what to do about it. After all, most people have to live their own lives…go to work, pay the bills, watch a movie---get sleep.
They don’t understand why anyone would even want to kill themselves, let alone kill other people. They don’t understand the difference between the usual “My Dad Just Passed Away and I’m not feeling too good” to the “I Hate Myself So Much---I’m So Worthless--- I’ve Just Got Do Something!”
Robbie had plenty of problems. Broken family, homeless, alcohol problems, girlfriend problems, and then the final insult--fired from McDonalds.
You can’t get much lower than that.
But so what you say? Lots of kids have these problems, and they don’t go around shooting up malls.
Most kids don’t have what they call “clinical depression.” That kind of genetic condition is much like being born with your father’s brown eyes. Mixed that with all of Robbie’s problems and you’ve got a ticking bomb.
Too many of our kids are on drugs, having promiscuous sex, cheating on tests, and drinking themselves into stupors on weekends. Maybe Robbie felt whatever crimes he committed was little in comparison to his peer group.
Before he slaughterd eight innocent people, he might have been right.
Also, watching multi-millionaire rappers getting rich by promoting “sex” and “violence” is not exactly helping the thousands of kids out there who are looking for some hope---especially if they are white poor kids from broken homes.
There is no affirmative action for them.
Also, watching multi-millionaire rappers getting rich by promoting “sex” and “violence” is not exactly helping the thousands of kids out there who are looking for some hope---especially if they are white poor kids from broken homes.
There is no affirmative action for them.
I’ve seen these kids all over my neighborhood. Only by the grace of God are some of them saved. Most of them have no clue that they have that extra “kicker” inside them. To admit depression you have to take responsibility for yourself, and in this world where even the adults are still children, the kids are left alone to figure that out themselves.
I’m sure Robbie never dreamed he was sick, unlike Isabella…who had had many a shock treatment.
Isabella described depression once: “It’s like when you get a sore throat and you know you’re going to get flu. You know it is coming, but you can’t do anything about it.”
I’m sure Robbie never dreamed he was sick, unlike Isabella…who had had many a shock treatment.
Isabella described depression once: “It’s like when you get a sore throat and you know you’re going to get flu. You know it is coming, but you can’t do anything about it.”
And that's the problem isn't it? That's the problem.
Labels: life
posted by Joyanna Adams at 9:52 PM
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