You ever get slightly depressed whenever a celebrity dies?

I must have these answers.

Rarely, but yes.

Steve Irwin, Robin Williams, and Norm MacDonald immediately come to mind.

Robin Williams hit me hard, mainly because he was currently on a show I watching and really liked.

also Philip Seymour Hoffman, very tragic and way too early

I mean yeah, it always feels somewhat alienating in situations like that.

At my shitty part time job in college, one of the worst parts was that they played inoffensive mass appeal pop music on the radio and I had to listen to it all day, which I hated.

And one day I went to a wedding and I was like wow I can't believe they are playing this radio shit at such a special day for these people. And it hit me, the majority of people actually listen to radio music willingly, and even enjoy it, and dance to it with a smile on their faces.

Felt really weird like in the moment I didn't really know if I wanted to be part of it or not because it felt really cringy but I am the one who is not having fun.

does therapy actually work?

Occasionally; most celebrity deaths don't particularly affect me. The only one that really did was Akira Toriyama recently. Being the author of Dragon Ball as well as a major influence on virtually everyone in the industry, I got to thinking how he shaped so much of my life and got kind of emotional about it.

AltOmega2 posted...

does therapy actually work?

Not for me, it didn't. Therapists usually talked over me. They always asked about my siblings, and consoled me like their issues were mine, believing that I was secretly talking about myself. They twisted my words. They had a hard time believing the face I presented at therapy was my true face. They appealed to family members for help in discovering who I "really" was. They refused to listen to much, if anything, I said. They would let me go on about my feelings. Then they would just change the subject and talk about something else entirely. I just have a somewhat bad history with therapy. I can't really open up like I used to. The only times when I do open up are when I'm writing. It's been months since I spoke to another human being. No one at work really talks to me; they just go on and on about everyday nonsense like it's of any importance whatsoever, and I'm just forced to listen to it unless I put on my headphones. It's enough to drive a dude crazy. I'm just getting sick and tired of listening to it all. I'm getting sick and tired of everything. I'm getting sick of 'remembering' repressed memories, and I'm not even sure if they're real or not, because I sure as hell can't trust my family to tell me a damn thing about anything. The mother doesn't even speak any damn English. The father doesn't care. The siblings think I'm lying about everything I say; they twist around every single word I say, and pretend I'm a compulsive liar. After having three decades of having absolutely no one to come to, you just get sick of life. I just can't open up about anything anymore. I don't trust anyone to listen; most of the time, they just twist my words around like they always do, thinking I always talk in code whenever I say something they don't expect to hear from me. Sometimes, I don't even trust myself. It's hard to tell if the things I remember actually happened or not. The family has done their best to make sure I only remember things that don't upset me. I don't trust anyone. And there's just too much to talk about. I can't explain it, but I get a little tongue-tied whenever I try to talk about a distressing event that happened to me. I can't exactly do it on cue. It isn't until I'm in the mood that I can write what I remember without hesitation or social anxiety; also, I normally go for long periods at a time without really getting to use my voice. Therapists usually understand my hesitation to be a sign that what I am about to say is a lie. Sometimes, it feels that way. Sometimes, I feel like I don't even have a past to look fondly back on; just clouds of trauma that obscure whatever semblances of what a normal childhood is supposed to look like. I don't exactly give a damn about any deaths or tragedies that happen in the world. I'm usually too busy moping about my own mental deterioration. I'm usually too crippled by my loneliness to even care. I'm too misanthropic to even want to trust anyone with anything, let alone my feelings unless I'm in one of those moods where I just can't be arsed to hold anything in anymore. I'm sick of listening to people opening their mouths to go on about the most mundane s*** when I'm just here suffering in silence for whoever knows how long. Some days, I'm scared I'll really lose my sanity, which is why on those days I put my private journal entries up on the Web. I'm just really scared right now. I ain't in a right mental state. I'm not okay. After a while, you just get sick of people pretending your feelings aren't real. After a while, you get sick of people pretending you have only the feelings they say you have, just to make their lives and jobs easier. After a while, you get sick of people coming to their own conclusions; eventually, you just stop talking altogether, let them run their mouths about the person they think you are, and just agree with anything and everything they say about you, because sometimes, toxic company is honestly better than no company at all. And then you just socially withdraw again, sigh while listening to people think loudly that you do so out of spite, and try to figure out a response to send their way to make sure they aren't accidentally tricked into thinking that whatever they've assumed is wrong. Meanwhile, you're just too numb to care about them or anything in general. You're too numb to give a crap about anything that happens around you. Everything just looks like meaningless background noise that ultimately doesn't matter. Everyone who talks to you seems like a pest that just cannot be arsed to take the hint and piss off. You just scroll aimlessly through Reddit in search of something that will make you feel, sad, mad, happy, anything. You do anything for this purpose, which is why you search out stuff that's got shock-value, like content of the macabre genre. You just cycle through the same old pages on the Web again, in hopes of an emotional spark that deep down you know will never come. You then retire to bed, either too numb to go to sleep properly, or too sad to stay awake. Meanwhile, somewhere in your mind, you curse your own mother for being too much of an emotional leech to pay any attention to you whatsoever. And you just have no one else to blame anymore, and start to think it's your fault. When you wake up, all that's on your mind is a bunch of traumatic memories that you aren't even sure really happened or not, since everyone involved will either deny it or not really know if it happened, since they were the antagonistic lot of those 'events' you recall. Those 'events' hurt you emotionally just the same either way. You start to lose meaning. You start to lose hope. You start to wonder if anything is real anymore. You start to wonder the point of anything; you start to question if your feelings are even real, and if those therapists were really telling the truth. At that point, you just aren't sure of anything anymore, so you resign yourself to hopelessly lying about, reliving your past, or whatever it is at this point, because you're too emotionally drained to do anything else. That you are emotionally drained is easily attributed to the fact that you just relive a past that may or may not have happened. No one back then really spoke with you about that past when it did happen; so you didn't receive any real affirmation of the "fact" that it did happen. You start to feel like the only one going crazy, while the world just keeps turning and turning, oblivious to and uncaring for how much you suffer.

No, I despise celebrities and the culture surrounding them, I enjoy certain actors and performences but otherwise dont care for them beyond thier performances. The planet would be better off if people stopped giving a shit about them at any level.

I think the closest I've ever felt to sad was when Steve Irwin died, anyone who cares greatly for animals is worthy of respect.

I never care and I feel like people who make a big show of it every time a celebrity dies and post about how upset they are just people that crave reactions on social media

It's just impossible for me to give a shit about someone I've never even met

No, I don't worship them.

No.

Nope. Dont care about them and the lack of caring does not bother me.

Honestly no. I can't even remember the last time I really thought much about a celebrity death. People die. It's just how life is.

No; certainly not every time. Not even most times. But there's the rare case where I have (and will).

Steve Irwin hit me hard since his wife is from Oregon and I enjoyed his shows. Michael Jackson affected me a bit since I listened to some of his music growing up.

EclairReturns posted...

Not for me, it didn't. Therapists usually talked over me. They always asked about my siblings, and consoled me like their issues were mine, believing that I was secretly talking about myself. They twisted my words. They had a hard time believing the face I presented at therapy was my true face. They appealed to family members for help in discovering who I "really" was. They refused to listen to much, if anything, I said. They would let me go on about my feelings. Then they would just change the subject and talk about something else entirely. I just have a somewhat bad history with therapy. I can't really open up like I used to. The only times when I do open up are when I'm writing. It's been months since I spoke to another human being. No one at work really talks to me; they just go on and on about everyday nonsense like it's of any importance whatsoever, and I'm just forced to listen to it unless I put on my headphones. It's enough to drive a dude crazy. I'm just getting sick and tired of listening to it all. I'm getting sick and tired of everything. I'm getting sick of 'remembering' repressed memories, and I'm not even sure if they're real or not, because I sure as hell can't trust my family to tell me a damn thing about anything. The mother doesn't even speak any damn English. The father doesn't care. The siblings think I'm lying about everything I say; they twist around every single word I say, and pretend I'm a compulsive liar. After having three decades of having absolutely no one to come to, you just get sick of life. I just can't open up about anything anymore. I don't trust anyone to listen; most of the time, they just twist my words around like they always do, thinking I always talk in code whenever I say something they don't expect to hear from me. Sometimes, I don't even trust myself. It's hard to tell if the things I remember actually happened or not. The family has done their best to make sure I only remember things that don't upset me. I don't trust anyone. And there's just too much to talk about. I can't explain it, but I get a little tongue-tied whenever I try to talk about a distressing event that happened to me. I can't exactly do it on cue. It isn't until I'm in the mood that I can write what I remember without hesitation or social anxiety; also, I normally go for long periods at a time without really getting to use my voice. Therapists usually understand my hesitation to be a sign that what I am about to say is a lie. Sometimes, it feels that way. Sometimes, I feel like I don't even have a past to look fondly back on; just clouds of trauma that obscure whatever semblances of what a normal childhood is supposed to look like. I don't exactly give a damn about any deaths or tragedies that happen in the world. I'm usually too busy moping about my own mental deterioration. I'm usually too crippled by my loneliness to even care. I'm too misanthropic to even want to trust anyone with anything, let alone my feelings unless I'm in one of those moods where I just can't be arsed to hold anything in anymore. I'm sick of listening to people opening their mouths to go on about the most mundane s*** when I'm just here suffering in silence for whoever knows how long. Some days, I'm scared I'll really lose my sanity, which is why on those days I put my private journal entries up on the Web. I'm just really scared right now. I ain't in a right mental state. I'm not okay. After a while, you just get sick of people pretending your feelings aren't real. After a while, you get sick of people pretending you have only the feelings they say you have, just to make their lives and jobs easier. After a while, you get sick of people coming to their own conclusions; eventually, you just stop talking altogether, let them run their mouths about the person they think you are, and just agree with anything and everything they say about you, because sometimes, toxic company is honestly better than no company at all. And then you just socially withdraw again, sigh while listening to people think loudly that you do so out of spite, and try to figure out a response to send their way to make sure they aren't accidentally tricked into thinking that whatever they've assumed is wrong. Meanwhile, you're just too numb to care about them or anything in general. You're too numb to give a crap about anything that happens around you. Everything just looks like meaningless background noise that ultimately doesn't matter. Everyone who talks to you seems like a pest that just cannot be arsed to take the hint and piss off. You just scroll aimlessly through Reddit in search of something that will make you feel, sad, mad, happy, anything. You do anything for this purpose, which is why you search out stuff that's got shock-value, like content of the macabre genre. You just cycle through the same old pages on the Web again, in hopes of an emotional spark that deep down you know will never come. You then retire to bed, either too numb to go to sleep properly, or too sad to stay awake. Meanwhile, somewhere in your mind, you curse your own mother for being too much of an emotional leech to pay any attention to you whatsoever. And you just have no one else to blame anymore, and start to think it's your fault. When you wake up, all that's on your mind is a bunch of traumatic memories that you aren't even sure really happened or not, since everyone involved will either deny it or not really know if it happened, since they were the antagonistic lot of those 'events' you recall. Those 'events' hurt you emotionally just the same either way. You start to lose meaning. You start to lose hope. You start to wonder if anything is real anymore. You start to wonder the point of anything; you start to question if your feelings are even real, and if those therapists were really telling the truth. At that point, you just aren't sure of anything anymore, so you resign yourself to hopelessly lying about, reliving your past, or whatever it is at this point, because you're too emotionally drained to do anything else. That you are emotionally drained is easily attributed to the fact that you just relive a past that may or may not have happened. No one back then really spoke with you about that past when it did happen; so you didn't receive any real affirmation of the "fact" that it did happen. You start to feel like the only one going crazy, while the world just keeps turning and turning, oblivious to and uncaring for how much you suffer.

Wall of text. Please considering using more of the enter key next time.

Occupy_This posted...

enter key

I was slightly ambivalent about people reading my weekend woes. <<';

depends on the celebrity. i'm almost certainly going to feel that way more and more as time goes on though, as the number of celebrities that i can't figure out why they're famous to begin with seem to be increasing exponentially.

also that is the biggest wall of text i think i've ever seen here. wtf. sorry PO.

If it's a celebrity that's part of something that's been big for me and/or that I think highly of, I'm usually at least a bit bummed out over their death, especially if they die young or otherwise tragically (like James Earl Jones dying at 93 and Maggie Smith dying at 89 weren't really a big deal, but Matthew Perry dying at 54 was sad). Others, I tend not to care beyond how much I'd care if any random person died the same death (learning about Judith Barsi's death, for example, was upsetting not because I was particularly attached to anything she did, but because it'd be upsetting to learn about any kid going through that).

It does not (as seems to be the core question of this topic) depress me to feel less strongly about any given celebrity death than others do, because I know that whatever value somebody places in celebrities is based on their personal experiences and interests, and it's perfectly normal that I've had different experiences and therefore have different priorities from other people.

Not really. I guess the only one that was kind of surprising to me was chadwick boseman since his career seemed to be in the middle of shooting to the stratosphere and probably had a long term spot in Marvel and kept his health issue private.

Other than that many celebrities either died of their vices or old age. Still I don't know them personally so its really kind of a not on my bingo card feeling than bawling out over princess diana or something.

Not depressed, more like shocked..

Robin Williams and Matthew Perry are still head scratchers.

Just hoping Jimmy Carter hangs on two more days.

KJ_StErOiDs posted...

Just hoping Jimmy Carter hangs on two more days.

what happens in two days...?

His 100th birthday.

No. Even if I don't have a personal connection to them, I can feel sad about their deaths.

AltOmega2 posted...

what happens in two days...?

The Rapture.

Depressed, no, but I am sad to hear about Kris Kristofferson passing this Saturday all the same, though at the respectable age of 88. You've got your celebrities, I've got mine.

Depressed? No. Saddened yes. Feel Depressed is to strong of a word.

Matthew Perry (Chandler) and Andre Braugher (Holt) did hit me harder. Two of my favourite sitcom characters

While not a celebrity per se, I was saddened by the death of Maggie Smith last week. She was 89 though so not exactly unexpected.

No lol that is weird

I do genuinely get sad whenever they do die especially if its someone I liked and respected like Kobe.

Rarely. The loss of Chris Farley when I was young, Robin Williams, Chester Bennington, and Alexi Laiho (my favorite music artist at the time) all hit me pretty hard. I still miss them as people, and as entertainers that brought a lot of joy and catharsis into my life.

Alexi laiho was probably the only one to effect me because I love bodom and his battle and death are super tragic. Also, I'm kinda friends with his wife now. She's cool af and down to earth and shared a lot of stories about him and various other Scandinavian metal dudes that she knows. We actually met her because she came to watch us play in Chicago

Steve Irwin hit me pretty hard

For me, it usually depends on who the celebrity is.

No I don't really care either.

Mostly just musicians I like since it means no more music/tours from said artist. Like Neil Peart and Tom Petty passing both made me really sad.

Robin Williams since I watched a lot of his movies as a kid.

The act of telling Eclair to seek therapy is an idempotent one.

Only if it's a celebrity that I find entertaining. When Phillip Hoffman died I was sad. I would never get to see him perform anything new again. That was a real bummer. But when Amy Whinehouse died it had no affect on me because I had no interest in what she was creating.

Even if I don't care for them, I heard about them all my life that I wanted or not, so they are a Memento Mori, your idea of the world contained them, even if you didn't care for them.

'No'

Sometimes it hits, sometimes it doesn't. The timing has a effect as well.

Akira Toriyama was one of the few that hit. Chyna (Joanie Laurer) still hits from time to time today. Coincidentally, the WwE recently added blue accents to the Intercontinental title and spruced it up.