Abuse, actors, behavior, celebrities, celebrity worship, Hollywood, opinion, rape, sexism, uncatagorized

Of Pedestals and Old Celebrities

bill cosby

Once again Hollywood has provided us with another example of men behaving badly. This time it’s someone we all were stunned by, except of course by those in the know. Many things set this scandal apart from the others one of which is it involves one of America’s favorite dads, who not only on screen espoused morality and family life, but off screen as well.

This is an important fact because it is embedded in our collective memory buried deep in our psyche. Even back in the good ‘ol days when I grew up with rampant racism, everyone still loved Bill Cosby from the get go. I can’t remember anyone of any color who had a bad thing to say about him back in the ’70’s or ’80’s. We all laughed at his safe, funny jokes and retelling of hilarious family situations we could connect to in our own lives.

Then he placed himself on an even higher pedestal we put him on by taking to task the young rappers of the day, chastising their choice of words and subjects in their rhymes. Many rappers called him out of touch with reality of the young black male experience, He tried to show another way, that the immorality of the words and actions of these suddenly wealthy young hip hop artists were only going to lead to a destruction of black culture and ultimately themselves.

There was wisdom in his words. Like a father lecturing his children imparting knowledge in hopes of us learning a lesson without having to experience pain of our mistakes. TV interviews cemented his opinions and his war on what he saw was ignorance and set backs of youth. Many took the high ground with him and loved him even more for it.

When his only son was killed we grieved and cried with him and rightly so. Through the pain we admired him for his strength and courage and his unfailing commitment to his wife Camille and his family. It’s no wonder we loved him.

There are two sides to every coin and even more so with celebrities, who by necessity in order to sell themselves, have to have a very public persona of either their own or a publicists making. The outward image is just as important as the product of their art. It’s a delicate recipe that is destined to eventually fail if you are hiding something and Cosby was.

The allegations against him now are decades olds, or at least the ones we know about after these brave women finally had the courage to come forth. When I say finally, I hear a loud groan from the masses who believe that a woman after 50 yrs of living with this pain of rape from a very famous and powerful man, is only after money.

Let’s get real here. Decades have gone by and they have moved forward in their lives. If this were truly about money then the time would have been back then before the statutes of limitations ran out. If this were just hurt him then the time would have been back when the idea of a black man having sex with a white woman was very frowned upon, and racial hatred was even more a norm than it is today.

It’s about the truth. One thing that hasn’t changed in decades is still blaming the victim. It’s her fault she was raped. She must have wanted it. We forget that the birth of women’s equality was just beginning. Our mothers fighting valiantly to be taken seriously as one half of the human race that too had rights. To be more than a wife, mother and a whore in bed. Where women who did work outside the home were subjected to gropey bosses. Sexual harassment wasn’t even in our vernacular and women were supposed to just put up with it and be flattered even if it made you feel uncomfortable and unsafe. He could make or break your career and because he was so powerful who would believe you anyway? So you kept silent.

The women who are coming forward against Cosby now do so at personal risk of ridicule and threats to expose the man for what he is, a hypocrite and a rapist with the hidden morals of a pervert.

Why should any women who has been abused or raped come forward and endure the long ago memory and pain talk now? Why not just leave it in the past? The simple answer is for a catharsis in their own lives. To be finally free of something that tormented them all these years while they watched their attacker continue to reap the rewards of celebrity and adoration knowing there is a monster underneath the façade. To claim their life back from someone who’s one immoral action took it away.

The pedestal is high. The fall is hard, not just for him, but for all of us who believed in him.

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Drama, Indie Author, Uncategorized, women

CHEATINGS MIRROR ON THE SOUL

This is cheating.

The sneaking around, hiding, avoiding. being deflective in your answers. It’s not even the act itself as the manner in which it’s brought about. For a long time now you knew how you felt, convincing yourself that you can do better than what you had, that the proverbial grass was greener on the other side.

It didn’t start out intentional. You got bored. A chance meeting here, a we’re just friends there, What I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me you argued with yourself. Then you heard the siren’s call and abandoned what you once promised to hold most dear. You tossed me aside like an old pair of shoes that no longer fit your purpose and pursued the white-hot flame that would bring you something new, exciting, and not me.

The next step will be the awkward separation. The its not you it’s me phase, Then you’ll tell your friends who will wholeheartedly  agree with you that it is me and they never understood why you were with me in the first place. You wont outwardly feel guilty. In fact you’ll make it a point to show me indifference and then outright hostility. It will become my fault. I caused you to search elsewhere with my mediocre life existence and then in a moment of guilt you’ll tell me that you never intended to hurt me. I’ll hear that you loved me once, but can no longer bring yourself  to be in love with me, or worse yet you’ll get over any remorseful feelings you temporarily have and say you never loved me. You’ll say all kinds of nasty thing to and about me then make your feelings fit your words to get the end result you want. You’ll tell me  I was convenient and now it’s time to find your true love and start living the life you always wanted and deserved, that I held you back from.

Silly me. Why didn’t I see it before? Truth is I did. I had a foreboding feeling, a sixth sense if you will that something wasn’t right. I noticed the avoidance, the change in moods and the feeling of ever-increasing loneliness that crept up in my soul as a sign of my future abandonment by you. I just chose to ignore it, quash It down and chalk it up to that you were going through a rough patch and had to work out some issues.

Sure you threw me a bone here and there to throw me off the scent. My brain didn’t want to register your actions as a sign of the end is near. Self preservation I suppose until I caught you red handed in the act. My world imploded with the force of an atomic bomb and nothing would ever be right again.

You knew I was fragile and you tore me down anyways. It was all part of your mental separation plan. Your own self survival mode conniving you into believing that this is the right way. So you became cold and decided to rip the bandage off quickly admitting everything you should have a long time ago before you made your decision to turn to another. Truth is you couldn’t do the separation without a push from her. She told you it’s her or me and you chose new and exciting believing that it would stay that way forever.

Now my own self doubt takes over. I don’t need you to tear me down, I can do that all on my own. I chastised myself privately for a myriad of flaws that I believed caused you to push me away. I’m to fat, I’m to thin, I spent too much money, I ignored your needs, I smothered you, I relied on you too much, I didn’t rely on you enough, I’m no longer pretty anymore (if I ever was), I’m a no talent hack who is just to stupid to live, I grew old.

This is cheating aftermath.

Eventually I will get over the hurt and build myself back up, slowly at first. I will lick my wounds and feel sorry for myself for while, then I’ll reinvent myself while trying to reinvent the wheel. I’ll go back to school, travel, join a gym, change my hairstyle, buy that car I always wanted you said was a ridiculous waste of money, write a book, maybe even move to another city.

l will survive because even though I appear emotionally fragile on the outside prone to easily to tears, inside I am tough as steel. I will have learned not to ignore my sixth sense and will be wary next time, given there is a next time, that requirement is no longer necessary for me to move on from you. I will appear more confident though that will really be a façade for me just not giving a damn anymore. I will trust no one ever again even though I will smile as if I do.

I will think of you from time to time and the silent anger I still carry will burn like a flickering flame threatening to once again take over my being, but instead I will find a way to snuff it out for a while till the day comes when it no longer ignites. I might even say I have forgiven you, but truth is deep down inside I never will.

 

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behavior, black women, coworkers, disrespect, diversity, Drama, empowering, friends, haters, karma, life lessons, Mental Health, relationships, self hating, self loathing, self respect, Uncategorized, women

The Hot Mess

My friend Cindy is what I refer to as a hot mess. In a good, funny, loving way. It was her birthday and she arrived at my work desk with a couple of pictures to show me. Now Cindy works in another department and made the trip special just to share these pictures. It also happened to be Throwback Thursday and if you spend anytime in twittersphere you know what I’m talking about. Her pictures spoke a thousand words of a young, vivacious, svelte, beautiful woman wearing a daring outfit. The other was her baby picture.

The baby picture was cute, but the young hot Cindy in 1984 is what caught your attention. Cindy is now 61 wonderful years and full of stories about her anything but dull life. Even heading into year so called golden years this woman is living a drama filled, but fun life and she loves to tell you about it. Great fodder for a writer! in fact we even based a character on her in our third book The Body Hunters: Dirty Secrets, Naked Truths . To put it simply Cindy is awesome. I could in no way have handled her life or begin to even imagine being as daring as she was and still is.

To the outsider Cindy can be a mental handful. As I stated she loves to talk and if you don’t love to listen to people then she is not the person for you. Her stories make it all worth it. The celebrity encounters she’s had in questionable situations to even current boyfriends make you drop your jaw and shake your head all the while smiling and laughing with her.

The whole picture exchange took less than 3 or 4 minutes and soon we were all back at our respective jobs and I didn’t think anything more of it. That is till the woman who sits on the other side of my cubicle said something to me over the cubicle wall.

“Why do you attract the weirdest people?” she asked.

“Huh?” was my intelligent response.

“These weird people always flock to you, you need to get some normal people in your life.”

Now this woman, let’s call her Mary to protect her not so innocence, is a 40-ish beautiful black woman, single mom with a teenage son. I have been to 1 outing with her and a couple of other friends to of all movies, a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. You know the one where people dress up and yell comments through out the whole movie? yeah that one. One of my friends that went with me that night is my age and a lifelong friend named Barb who is a musical wonder and a talented artist in paints and any other type of medium she gets her hands on. She’s high strung and like all artists of a high caliber, very brilliant and unfortunately lives in her own world. She is also an alcoholic, severely broke after having made an ungodly amount of money and is having trouble facing her new reality and frail physical and psychological  health. She is a real hot mess and not in a good Cindy kind of way.

I will not lie, I prayed Barb would behave on our outing and just for once enjoy herself getting lost in this ridiculous movie. She did for all of 30 minutes and then her addiction and depression struck. She eventually left and found a bar to shoot back a few tequila’s down only coming back at the end of the movie. I was embarrassed for her and for me. Though I am not responsible for her actions, she had begged me take her along wanting the girls night out and I could have said no.

Mary is a former alcoholic. Mary lived a little of Barb’s life and should understand the addiction and what it does to a person. Mary is now sober and a church going upstanding citizen in her own eyes. Mary made several comments about that night and how she could relate to what Barb was going through, felt bad for her ect….which is why it was a shock to me that she made the comments she made.

Back to Cindy. Cindy is not Barb, Cindy holds a job, takes care of her aging mother and tries to make herself fun to be around. Mary’s comment  to me about how I attract the weirdest people struck me as odd. Why was she being so critical? and what is she saying about herself? She after all did hang out with me too. She then said to me she thought Cindy was lying about having any current boyfriends. Cindy being 61 is not the skinny woman she used to be and her body no longer lends itself to dressing like a woman of much younger years. Cindy dresses for work in age appropriate clothes for a person on our meager salary.

I asked Mary why did she think Cindy was lying? What reason does she have to lie? Mary told me it was because she needed to compensate to me for lacking in something that I have that she doesn’t. In other words she told me Cindy was jealous of me.

“Wait, What?”

Jealous of me? I am a living large and in charge kind of gal, in other words fat. My manner of dress is relevant to my size and financial situation. For Christ’s sakes I cut my own hair to save money since my husbands medical bills are so high. Why the hell would anyone be jealous of me?

“Ain’t no woman dresses like her and has a man. You have a long term marriage and she’s jealous of that.” she reiterated again I need normal people in my life.

Ok, who’s jealous of my having a husband? Um….her or you?

I mean how critical can you get? Mary as I have learned is very self critical calling herself things like ugly and fat, even complaining about her dark skin color calling her self Aunt Jemima after the pancake syrup character. Wow! How self loathing can you get? I wanted to cry for her and remember, I’m the living large and in charge gal who cuts her own hair.

I have no time for self loathing, self hatred and internal or outwardly name calling. People will do that for me and to me on a regular basis. I told Mary the reason the off center, kooky, crazy, troubled, weirdo’s (who are just normal human beings getting through life the best way they know how) are attracted to me is because I try not to judge and I listen. In them there are several life lessons to be learned and shared. Everyone has value even if you can’t or refuse to value yourself. For a woman who overcame her own addiction just to constantly put herself and other women down is sad. She is not an Aunt Jemima, Mrs. Butterworth or any other sticky syrupy commercially racist character. She is a beautiful black woman who turns men’s heads wherever she goes. I’m guessing the reason she can’t keep a love interest is beyond her beauty. If you can’t respect and love yourself how are you going to love someone else?  Cindy is not lying about her life or the men in her life. I believe she still attracts men not because she is still the raving beauty of her youth, but because she is still a fun loving, quirky light hearted individual that loves life and has no problem in sharing it.

So here’s to all my weird, wacky, troubled, artistic, fun loving friends. Keep on keeping on. and to Mary, lighten up your heart already, it ain’t that serious!

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behavior, brothers, daughters, death, dysfunctional families, family, fathers, grieving, Indie Author, life lessons, Mental Health, mothers, relationships, Uncategorized, values, writing

The Marrying Man

My Father

My Father

The innocent looking boy in the picture is quite the cutie isn’t he? He would live to be 87 yrs old before being called home, and while on this earth, lived quite an eventful life. He married 6 times, with only 2 marriages ending in death, my birth mother, wife #3, and wife #5. 

He worked in the auto industry for most of his adult life. He believed in Generous Motors until the financial collapse of GM’s bankruptcy broke his heart. Life changed around him and he just couldn’t understand the why’s. He refused to believe that after all his years of blood, sweat and toil to a company he loved, he suddenly had to pay doctor co-pays and worry over the possibility of his pension being cut. The latter thankfully never happened.

 I’d love to say in this post that he was a perfect father ect…. I’d love to say it, but truth was, he was blissfully unaware that he was a complicated man. He believed in simplicity and yet he convoluted his life so badly when it came to his family. With his last wife, he believed his kids should have just fallen all over the woman he loved, and love her just as much as he did, even as she was ripping our family apart.

This of course was his pollyanna, his utopia. Blood will always be thicker than water and the woman made sure that her grown child and grandchildren were to always come first in his eyes. At times I believe she succeeded and enjoyed rubbing my nose in it.

That’s not to say he didn’t love us. I think he just assumed we knew he did, and felt he had to outwardly show it to her children more. He had to prove to the new wife his loyalty, and I believe she exploited it to a high degree. I know in later (rare) private conversations with him, he later felt trapped in that loyalty, but felt powerless to do anything about it.

I loved him to a fault when I was young, and I do have many fond memories of him. My most valued memory is the father/daughter dance at my wedding. It was one of the few times I really felt connected to him, that he cared and was happy with my choice of partner. he loved my husband and thought highly of him. He even defended him against my husband’s own father. Yet another father story for another time.

 After wife #5’s death, my brothers and I struggled to reconnect with him, feeling that for the first time we could have had that long awaited, and unencumbered relationship with him. 

Not so much.

 I quickly realized that he was the ‘marrying man’, when he announced at 73 yrs of age, that he was seeing yet another woman. This was literally months after wife #5 died. It was like a sickness, he just couldn’t be without a woman whom he wanted to give control over his life.

As an adult I began to see the pattern emerge. I don’t know much about wife #1 and 2, except with #2, he had 2 boys that he let another man adopt because he didn’t want anymore animosity and fights between wife #2 and #3, besides he had young children with #3 and another new life. 

With wife #4 he had no children, and after a contentious relationship, ended up leaving her for wife #5. With wife #5 he gained 4 stepdaughters that he truly loved. It was inexplicable to me that he also dropped them all by the wayside when #6 came around, though later he would believe wife #6 when she said it was their fault and they abandoned him. It’s that ‘why didn’t they worship #6 like he did’ kind of thing. Through rose colored glasses of love and obsession, he failed to see #6’s jealousy and that she pushed us all away.

The 4 girls would never be able to have any semblance of a relationship with him again, with only one of them being able to see him once before he died. Wife #6 made sure of that. She also made sure my brothers and I were tossed out of the picture until she finally relented to having me around. 

This was an eggshell walk for me, treading water carefully as to not upset the balance that allowed my continued visits. My brothers just gave up.

Now here’s the weird part, as time went on he just couldn’t understand why things were the way they were. He couldn’t see his role in the drama. Sensing that he was losing his touch on reality in his last years, I let it be and decided instead to try to persuade the brothers to make up and just be a family before he passed. It didn’t work. I spent years on this fruitless endeavor, arguing and pleading with them to no avail. I swallowed so much pride I was drowning in my own tears.

I was with him that weekend at his home, watching his chest rise and fall with each ragged breath, hanging on to life with him in his few moments of clarity, in-between  blissful pain free naps. I held his hand, stroked his hair and prayed for a peaceful ending, letting him know he wasn’t alone. 

I watched as the funeral home came and zipped him up in a body bag and carried him out on a gurney at 5am, after hospice came and declared him what we already new him to be. 

I sat in the funeral home alone for calling hours, my husband having been taken ill that day. I was surrounded by wife #6’s family, very few I truly believed loved him, and senior center friends of his I didn’t know. My family was nowhere to be seen. It was totally awkward sitting there. Many of his ‘other’ family didn’t know who I was, since I was never spoke of by #6. I felt like it was me, not him, that was the ghost in the room. Only one of #6’s family offered a condolence to me, thankfully it was #6’s daughter, who was gracious enough to put aside her own grief to see that I too, was hurting. I dreaded the funeral the next day.

Then a miracle happened. The 3 step sisters who were still alive (1 passed away 2 yrs prior)  and their spouses and children, who’s hearts were also broken by the man lying in the casket, had made a last minute decision and showed up at the funeral, swallowing their pride with me, shedding tears for the relationship they remembered with him, not what for what it became.

I don’t want my readers to get the wrong impression about this post. It’s not a bash my father for the last time kind of thing. He was, after all, a funny man with down home, countrified kind of humor. He enjoyed playing his music and was quite an accomplished singer and guitar player. He played in many bands and gave generously of his time to playing for the ‘old’ folks at the senior centers and nursing homes in his seventies and early eighties, before his health demanded he stop. He was beloved by his friends as an affable, kind man, who would give you the shirt off his back. Like I said, he was complicated without ever realizing it.

There is, of course, a huge amount to tell of his life that would have to be classified as fiction, because, well, truth is stranger than fiction. I just wanted to share this more for me than anything, to help reconcile on digital paper my feelings of undying love for this man and simmering disappointment of what could have been.

If any of you have had a parent like this feel free to comment and tell me about it. I’d love to know I’m not alone.

 

 

 

 

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behavior, celebrity worship, daughters, disrespect, Fame, family, fathers, life lessons, morality, mothers, nudity, rape, self respect, teens, Uncategorized, values, women, youth

Pimping Yourself For Fame

The opinions in this post is mine and mine alone. Agree, disagree I don’t care. I just felt it had to be said.
I saw a picture posted by a barely 18 year old on a news story on the internet, and when I say barely 18 I mean she’s not even a month into supposed adulthood. Kendall Jenner made news this week with a picture of her in a black fishnet type shirt with no bra and leaving nothing to the imagination. It was extremely see thru much to the delight I’m sure of many males both young and old.
kendall
Now I’m not a prude, I am not above writing the love story that gets physical, but the books we write are for grown adults not YA. My issue with the picture of Kendall Jenner’s nips is this. She wasted no time in sexualizing herself the minute she turned 18 and it’s now reported that her father, Bruce Jenner, is supporting her decision to instagram this picture to 7 million followers and now millions more thanks to the power of the internet. She might as well get it over with and make the sex tape and post the completely nude photo announcing her new found self depreciation and degradation into an object to be lusted over.
Where is the self respect? Yes she is technically an adult and in this country can do what she wants, but the fact that she did it so quickly after turning the magic adult number tells me that she has been thinking about this for a while way before she turned that magic age. Face it she didn’t wake up from innocence the morning of her birthday and convert to sluthood that same day, she had role models.
I understand the Kardashian/Jenner motive is to strictly whore yourself out for money. What is nonsense is the man who is supposed to be her moral compass,  her protector, her father, basically gave his tramp stamp of approval and has solidified her place in the Kardashian world of being slutty equals money. This approval by her father and no doubt her mother who’s every move is about the almighty dollar, sends a dangerous message to the followers of this young lady that dressing like anything goes is OK and consequences be damned.
Till something goes horribly wrong.
Normal everyday girls do not have Kardashian/Jenner money to protect them when things go wrong.  We read stories several times a week where there is a rape, gang rape, abuse, molestation and incest of women and young girls, some are so young they are barely out of diapers. We are shocked and appalled when this happens and before you scream at me, I’m in no way defending the men or boys or even saying the girls deserved it, but I am railing at the collective lack of consciousness that allows the celebrity to be our moral compass and give way to the anything goes attitude. How can we cry foul when the image of the willing wanton slut is shoved in our faces on a regular daily basis. When we individually or as a society, applaud, imitate and condone the behavior of the wannabe celebrity or musician that ‘twerks’ onstage provocatively and glorifies the use of drugs and sex. The message is clear, all women if they are showing it off or not are fair game.
Justin Bieber was just reported as having a party where strippers were hired to be naked at this party. The comment continued that the other women or girls at this party felt ‘out of place’ and pressured into also disrobing and parading nude for the enjoyment of many male celebrities that attended. The lure of being able to say you partied with the male celebs and had money rain down on you overrode any modesty and moral decency, allowing the girls collective debasement and lack of self respect to take hold. Partygoers were made to sign confidentiality agreements that they would not disclose anything that happened while attending said party or face a fine of 5 million dollars. Yes, I said 5 million.  Now who is that for? It doesn’t take a genius (or maybe it does) to know it was for the further intimidation of the girls, especially if something untoward was actually done to them while in their state of disrobement. To protect the male celebrity against being charged with whatever illegal activity happened whether it was sex she didn’t consent to or the slew of illicit drugs that were consumed that night.  May I also remind my readers who say it was The Bieb’s right to throw such a debauched party that he is not yet even 21.
Where are the parents? Where is dad to drag his daughter away and say I love you too much to let you debase yourself like this, or is dad to busy ogling young Kendall Jenner on his laptop or phone.
Where dad to teach his son that objectifying and disrespecting women and girls is wrong. Where are Bieber’s parents to reign in this kid and help him stop his path of self destruction we see happening to so many young celebs these days?
 Where are the mothers to advise and counsel their daughters on being self respecting, strong young ladies that don’t need to parade her nakedness to get attention. That the kind of attention she gets by putting it all out there is not the loving attention she is actually seeking.
We’ve all seen pictures of very young girls trying to be older than they are, wanting to show skin and appear sexy way before their time. We rail against this holding our hands up decrying the situation while we are buying her the Halloween costume of the slutty celebrity she emulates and call it cute. We enter her in the beauty contest shoving her little feet into high heels and have her practice her smile and call it investing in her confidence.
All because society and celebrity told us this is the way to be accepted.
There is some truth in the statement “little girls marry their fathers.” What she grows up with and see’s she will carry with her into adulthood and pass on to her own daughter in an endless cycle. It is proven that a girl who witnesses abuse by men in her home will more than likely end up with an abuser at some point before hopefully the cycle is broken.  If she is brought up with low self esteem and little respect, she will not magically obtain it when she turns 18.
A final thought. If we wouldn’t want our own young daughters, granddaughters, nieces to be emblazoned on instagram in a see thru top showing her nips to the world, or would die of shame to know our precious girls paraded around at a party butt naked to be used, objectified and reduced to the level of sex toy, then we need to stand up and let our objections be heard. We need to talk to and educate our boys on respect for women and how to be proper gentlemen. We need to educate and promote self respect and self esteem with our girls. We need to kill this celebrity worship and stop rewarding bad behavior.
If we don’t we all must look in the mirror and wag a finger at ourselves the next time we are shocked and appalled when our girls and women suffer with our indifference at the hands of bad men.

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animal clothes, animal lovers, Author, behavior, cats, Chihuahua's, Clothes, clothes for animals, coworkers, dogs, felines, Indie Author, Mental Health, relationships, Uncategorized

YES I AM ONE OF THOSE

HELP STOP FELINE ABUSE

HELP STOP FELINE ABUSE

I didn’t start out like this. I laughed at and sneered at the crazy people who just couldn’t get enough of their pets, treating them like children. Then I met my loving adorable husband. He was a feline aficionado, a rare quality in a man to say the least. He never denied his love of cats even to other men, secure in his own masculinity to say I love….Cats. We’ll save the other euphemism for another time. 😉

Now I am an animal lover myself don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t till I was on my own and had an apartment that I discovered all things feline. I was bound and determined to raise them with dignity, no cooing and coddling, they would grow to be the adult cats with the respect they deserved.

I worked with a woman at that time who had a Shih Tzu named Charlie. It was one of those mop dogs, the kind you wanted to stick a pole up its bum and mop the floor with it. Supposedly a cute small yipper. Charlie went everywhere with her and it was Charlie this and Charlie that. Charlie had to get his hair cut, She had to go right home and make Charlie’s dinner ect… I’m not joking when I say this, for the first six months I knew her, I thought Charlie was her husband till one day she comes into work and mentions Dave.

My world spun! how could this middle-aged woman be cheating on Charlie? I was aghast in horror! till another co-worker who snickered and laughed at me said Charlie was her freaking pooch!

Now this part is sad I’ll warn you.  Charlie developed cancer and mercifully was given the gift of a peaceful death. My friend was devastated of course and she announced Charlie’s funeral would be held in two days for all those who would like to attend.

Wait, What? A funeral for a Swiffer?

My eyes rolled and I shook my head. Thankfully, I thought to myself, that I had to work and couldn’t attend, but I was lucky enough to share in the pictures of Charlie lying in his little doggie casket at his viewing. He was buried lovingly in a pet cemetery.

This whole melodrama was foreign to me. I was brought up that pets are animals and we may cry when they leave us but it is after all an animal and we move on. I believed that till my McTavish. I had Mctavish before I was married and he was a gift from a dear friend. Living alone I appreciated his company, his constant need for attention taking my mind off of the fact that I lived alone. He was a Scottish Fold and my constant companion.

When I married my husband, the feline aficionado, remarked that McTavish was my ‘first’ husband since a lot of my daily concern was for my aging cat. I was slowly starting on my journey to being one of ‘those’. We had by then added to our family several more feline children and as the years progressed on, our decisions even ones where to live centered around the cats. McTavish was by now an old man in cat years approaching 80 + years and I’m positive he appreciated that we moved somewhere that was one level only and I to this day believe it’s the reason he lived to 18 human yrs ,101+ feline, but even then I still hadn’t completely transformed into one of ‘those’ quite yet.

Then ‘they’ came.

????????????????

Bindi Sue and Cheech

The two bundles of lil’ dog love that insidiously completed the transformation and it all started with the first sweater I bought them. It was January in Detroit after all. The frozen north and the two little ones who weighed no more than a pound a piece when I brought them home needed extra warmth. They are after all Chihuahua’s and barely had fur.

They had to have coats!

cheech hoodie

They’re gonna laugh at me at the dog park

bindi hoodie

Help Me the crazy lady is at it again!

Now there is nothing cuter than Chihuahua’s in hoodie parka’s except maybe this

hairless cat sweater

Foolish feel I!

and this

min pin in sweater

I gotta wear this for how long?

and of course this

sd swester

I HATE YOU!

So now every time I go to PetCo and PetSmart passing by the mini coats, sweaters, booties, sundresses and team jerseys, I call my sponsor from Pet Clothes are Just Too Damn Cute Anonymous. My sponsor is my husband who says only one word. “NO” 😦

Though recently he did have to admit they did look awful cute in their hoodies.

Now if I can only get him to let me have one of these!

shetland ponies in sweaters

Have a sweaterific day!

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Drama, Fiction, Indie Author, Mental Health, Uncategorized, writing

Passive Agressiveness and The Art of Writing Drama

The term passive-aggressive is defined as the “unassertive” expression of negative sentiments, feelings of anger and resentfulness. So instead of verbally or physically expressing frustration or anger — or even simply saying “no” when asked to complete a task — someone described as passive-aggressive might simply act agreeable but then not follow through with completing the task.

 

I am a classic passive aggressive. My entry into this world was filled with drama having been born early and with the umbilical cord around my throat. I joke and say I was trying to leave before I even arrived. Ok,  not really funny but that kind of humor is what has gotten me by all these umpteen yrs. I was supposed to be dead and if it weren’t for 1 pediatrician that had refused to give up I would have been. My drama doesn’t end there. My mother for reasons speculated but ultimately unknown killed herself in a most dramatic fashion 1 month before my 1st birthday. my brothers witnessed all the drama and aftermath that shaped their lives forever. My father could only mentioned it when he was drunk. In all my baby pictures and there are not a lot of them, she is never pictured holding me.

Now before you get out a tissue and give me a bunch of ‘awws’ please don’t. My aim in telling you all this was not for pity. I’m over it in a lot of ways except the eternal questions that will haunt me forever and even that’s ok, it’s supposed too. No, I told you this so you know how my passive aggressiveness started and why it is I think it makes for my love of writing drama.

My co-author Joi recently decided to write the drama of a 4 way argument of our characters in book 4 of our series we are writing now. She told me by the end of the day she was utterly exhausted having the arguments in her head and having it with each character telling her what they wanted to say. If you’re a drama writer I dare say you’ll understand that statement.

Now I am the one who usually handles this and even though, yes it is exhausting , it is also where I live. It gives me the ability to take out the hidden aggression buried deep in my psyche and release it on an unsuspecting audience. I want to tap into anger? I only have to look no farther than into a ready stream of memories of my childhood.

Here’s the weird part. I love to write drama, I want you to feel the thrill of the roller coaster ride of emotions that ensues when you know something big is going to take place. I want you talking back to the characters, yelling at them how mad you are at their actions and words. I want you to believe they and all their problems and triumphs really exist, but I can’t watch it neither on television or in the movies. I watch Scandal on the edge of my seat eating Tums. I recently saw an ad for a new movie with Sandra Bullock and George Clooney where they are in deep shit in deep space. I have to change the channel till it’s over. The ad also has the nerve to say you can enjoy the movie in 3D. Are they serious? I would have a heart attack!

Now if anyone reading this is a psychoanalyst or just psycho, please feel free to comment on the weirdness of that. Just keep it clean. I would also like comments on your feelings on writing drama. What do you tap into? Where do you go to bring it out and bring it to life on paper? How do you feel after writing a scene that is argumentative drama and what do you do to get yourself back to a normal emotional state?

Looking forward to your comments and here’s wishing you good mental health.

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