I’m not one for succumbing to media gimmicks and TV-fostered hype. In fact, I am so anti-television that I keep my set in my closet and adamantly cling to the bunny ears that will soon be obsolete. Yet, twice a week I crawl in amongst my dresses and winter coats and give myself over to the mind-numbing awe of American Idol.

For the first 5 seasons (now in season 8), I ridiculed all who gave up their social lives on Tuesday and Wednesday nights in order to avidly drool over a contrived reality program designed to humiliate people as much as encourage them. Then season 6 happened and an old friend from high school made it on the show. Out of curiosity as much as loyalty, I began to watch. While it met every expectation of cheesy, shameless marketing and mediocre smoke-and-mirror showmanship, it far surpassed itself in heightened human drama. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, this show was like heroin in my veins.

At first I thought my addiction stemmed from the tangible nerves of these performers as they dared to publicly dream the impossible. I felt elated when their song choices earned accolades from the infamous judges; my heart plummeted at the pain in their faces when they realized they just made a potentially deadly mistake. There’s also the sickening yet fascinating moment when they’ve been told they’ve been kicked off the show and then have to sing their losing song one more time. What could be crueler (or more interesting to watch) than trying to save face in front of millions of viewers who ultimately rejected you?

And so, for a while, I cynically assumed what America really loved about this show was the ability to torture its participants. But as the seasons have marched on, I have discovered a marvelous yet dirty little secret: the public has been hiding a tender soft spot. The winners are rarely the most marketable package available on the program. The last seven seasons’ winners have included a single mom, an overweight man, a pre-maturely gray southern rocker, and now, tonight, this season we stand to choose an eye-liner-nail-polish-sporting-glam-rockin’ gay man. Is it really possible that in a country torn apart over the issues of gay rights and gay marriage we would elect a gay man as our “American Idol?”

While I would hate to impose more dignity and gravitas than it deserves, I do believe this show is a kind of social marker. Despite the media constantly telling us that we like little blond women with tight abs or hunky men with protruding pectorals, as it turns out, we don’t. When given the choice, we choose the perfectly flawed instead—we choose talent over total package. What a remarkable revelation that stirs my heart: to believe that the generations behind us are gaining a much deeper sense of self and, perhaps. will one day be immune to the artificial flavors in the big-wig marketing schemes.

So even if you’re not already an American Idol fanatic, tune in tonight to the season finale and check out the unbelievable talent of Adam Lambert and trust that America might just have good taste after all.

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I’ll admit it, I’m a closet superhero freak and it was all too apparent when I bought the early bird tickets to the latest Wolverine movie and stood in line for almost two hours to get the best seats. I’d like to say it’s because I grew up with four older brothers; they’re the reason I’m obsessed with the Spiderman’s and Batman’s of the world…but regardless, in line with all the other X-Men groupies, stood a 5’10, long blond haired, smiling tomboy eager to be let into the theater.

But, honestly, what is it that we love about superheroes anyway? When you think about Michelle Pfeiffer as Cat Woman, old-school Wonder Woman played by Lynda Carter, Halle Berry as Storm, Jennifer Gardner as Elektra, Jessica Alba dressed up as Sue Storm in Fantastic Four and, the ultimate, Angelina Jolie as Lara Croft, you can’t tell me you don’t think they’re rock stars. I’d give my left pinky to be any of them for a day, so what is it about them that makes them so incredible?

Honestly, I think we as humans know our limitations and love to fantasize about a world in which we can fly, read people’s minds, become invisible or beat up a guy who’s ten times our size in a perfectly choreographed fight scene. We want to be bad asses at heart, at least I do. For most people, our biggest fear is being ordinary, mediocre, or Simon Cowell’s biggest insult, “forgettable.”

However, my greatest epiphany recently was that we DO get to be superheroes and we DO get to have super powers, if we so choose. Now maybe they aren’t the cliché super human strength, the ability to move at the speed of light, or invisibility cloaks, but they are equally powerful. This lifetime is never about wishing for something you don’t have, but rather seeing what tools you can find to stick in your belt along the way.

For me, I realized that my life experiences have gifted me with incredible opportunities to pick up priceless tools: the work ethic I gained in grad school, the faith I gained when I lost a dear friend in car accident, the resilience I gained hiking Everest, the determination I gained on Survivor, the compassion I gained in working with underprivileged girls in Cambodia, and the appreciation I gained after witnessing poverty in Brazil. You see, in the real world, the intangibles we gain along our journey are where the real power hides.

I think with every experience we have, there is this opportunity to pick up another gift, another shade of color we can add to our pallet and another tool for our life’s tool belt. Regardless of the situation, whether happy or sad, terrifying of joyfully overflowing there is a kernel of truth that awaits you. In order to best navigate through the jungle of life, it’s in our best interest to gather as many things as possible to help  along the journey.

I may not be able to make things move with my mind, but I confidently know I have the work ethic to build a powerful company; I may never be able to fly, but I know I have the compassion to inspire a young girl to dream big; and Lord knows I’ll never read minds (though with the last guy I had a crush on it would have been uber helpful), but I know I have the resilience to pursue my passion in the face of adversity.

We all have the potential to be superheroes, to leave this world better than we found it, to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves and to be extraordinary, magnificent and truly unforgettable. Now, all we have to do is a get a costume, slap on a mask, and I have no doubt we’d give Cat Woman and the other hero babes a run for their money.

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