Easing Over The Roadblocks
Facing them head-on, one at a time, for as long as it takes.
Over the weekend, we watched the Pamela Anderson documentary on Netflix.
It was not my first choice. Or my second, if I’m being honest. While I don’t have a problem with her being a big-boobed blonde like many of the haters, I was just never a fan. I’ve never seen an episode of Bay Watch, and I skipped the whole sex tape frenzy in the late ’90s simply because I thought Tommy Lee was gross and had no desire to see him naked.
The documentary isn’t particularly shocking or full of new information, but it is vulnerable. You can see the toll life has taken on this woman, and you can hear it in the audio clips as she reads from years and years of handwritten journals.
It was this aspect of her life I found most interesting. In one scene, she is surrounded by dozens of plastic totes filled with legal pads and notebooks dating all the way back to her adolescence.
I love it when someone talks about how they have kept journals their entire lives; Childhood dreams outlined in chunky pencil strokes, teenage angst scribbled in pen, the dawning of awareness as the adult years stack up against themselves.
I knew a girl in middle school who took pictures of everything. Not in the curated and filtered way people take pictures…
