What Are YOU Doing?

See something. Say something. That’s like the new code. Well, the new code that everyone breaks. Nobody wants to get involved. Nobody wants to be the one to cause a little discomfort. People mind their business. Except on social media. Then everyone knows everything.

There are a lot of geniuses out there. A lot of stupid geniuses. Who do nothing to actually solve whatever problem they are fighting over.

I’m sitting back watching a lot of debates on Facebook right now. No. I’m not getting involved. If you know me, you know how tough it is for me to not go in and tell people what fucking idiots they are. But then I have to remind myself that I can tell them they are idiots, but it doesn’t mean they’ll get it.

So instead of calling them idiots I’d like to ask them what they’re doing to be the change they wish to be in the world. You know, since they’re all sharing some stupid meme that says that. What exactly are they doing besides sharing  memes and engaging in arguments on social media with other morons where they  make the same point over and over and over and over. Oh, and then they make a similar point over and over and over. I want to punch them in the face and throw up at the same time. And then I get mad at myself because I allowed those dummies to waste precious moments of my life that I will never get back.

I’m sort of a bitch. I’m pretty open about that. I have a big mouth. I don’t always say the right thing. I’ve made a ton of mistakes in my life. But here’s the thing. I have tried to effect change. Oh no. Am I using the right effect/affect? Sometimes I slip up, but yeah, I think I am.

I have always been the see something, say something person, even when it has been to my detriment. I’ve had bosses who have actually written things in my reviews that basically say I don’t mind my business, but mostly because when I saw something, I said it. And then I said it again. And again. Not everyone is a fan of that. Especially bosses who see something and ignore it.

But its not just there. I have done different things in my life, things that have created a career path, because I couldn’t sit by silently and watch something I felt needed to be changed. Even writing a blog came about because I was pissed about something and felt that I had to add my big mouth to the mix. Oh, and on a side note, that piece caused quite a bit of controversy, but I’ll tell you that story another time.

Because bottom line is that I didn’t just scream a bunch of stuff or fight with some strangers on social media, and then walk away. I volunteered. I wrote letters. I signed petitions. I even brought my kids to protests and dragged their friends and made them sit through boring political meetings that went nowhere. But, I raised awareness in some way or another. In other words, I acted. Ok, so I admit, I still engaged in some brawls on social media, but I’m human. Even I have difficulty walking away from some idiot who cannot articulate a point and is short on facts. Its sort of a weakness of mine, though, I am getting better.

The news is hard to take lately. Harder to take is the commentary that is popping up from people who think that they are adding to a conversation that will lead to change when all they are really doing is making noise.

Go walk the walk. Conversation is great. Debate can be empowering. But follow it up. Do something. Say something. Don’t just argue the same point on social media and then share some stupid meme.  Be the change you want to see in the world. Actually be the change.

 

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Mid-Life or Transition or Whatever

Disclaimer: This post will probably have a lot of foul language. If you cannot appreciate all of the ways I’m going to drop the f bomb and a few other tidbits, well, thanks for the page view, and come back another day when I am able to contain myself.

Fuck. There. I said it. Really, I had no choice. I told you to expect it. I mean what I say, and say what I mean. Yeah, just like Dr. Seuss.

So I’m having a little bit of a moment. I know. I’m not the only one. But, this is affecting me, and, well, there is no situation that I cannot make about me.  Go read some shitty feel-good story on Huff Po if you want a bunch of bullshit that makes you feel good about yourself, oh, and really, just a bunch of aggregated bullshit. This is going to make you feel good, about me. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll figure it out.

I am a bitch.

Yes. I am. I own it. I am proud of it. I love that about myself. Apparently I have built up a bit of a fan club based on what a bitch I am, mostly (is that even a word?) because all of the people who love what a bitch I am appreciate the fact that its honesty and not malice,  straight talk, not phony bullshit.

I don’t know how to be phony. Maybe that would have gotten me further in life, but then I would not be able to look at my beautiful face in the mirror, and I love to look at my gorgeous reflection, especially on a really good hair day. Oh and also on a day when I can draw in some fabulous eyebrows.

Anyway, I’m in a bit of a transitional period. Some call it a mid-life crisis. I wouldn’t mind that because then that means I’m going to live till I’m 100. Well, wait, fuck that. I only want to live to 100 if I’m going to be disgustingly Jay Z rich and have an infiniti pool and someone to cut my onions.

I made a promise to myself back when David Letterman was the thing that I’d go on his show when I was filthy rich and talk about how I’d never cut onions again. He went and retired before I made it big like that. I’ll never forgive him.

I know. You want me to get to the point. I don’t have one. Did you miss the part where I said I’m in a transitional period?

In 48 hours, give or take, I will be leaving a job that I absolutely love. I mean, I love it and wish that Mark Cuban, or anyone with a shitload of cash, would throw some money my way so that I could feed my kids, keep my lights on, and continue at my job working with disadvantaged  youth who need someone to love them the way that I do.

My co-worker thinks its hysterical that I Tweet messages to Drake and expect him to answer. I think its hysterical that she doesn’t understand that he IS going to answer me. And probably send some money to the cause I’m demanding he supports.

No, I’m not Mother Teresa. Well, maybe a little, but the version in need of someone to wash my mouth out with soap.

I mean I’d punch anyone in the face who tried, but you know what I mean about the whole I’m not really a saint thing. Still, you can continue to think I am.

I’m 50 and trying to figure out what to be when I grow up. Some people figured that shit out in their 20’s. I didn’t. Some people figured that shit out when they were in their 30’s. Yeah. No. Not me. I’ll skip the 40’s because it will just piss me off.

At 50, I know this. I may be changing jobs soon. I am poor as fuck. I drive a car that still has the kind of key you can go get made up at ACE. I get shut off notices regularly.

I also get fan mail regularly. Ok, so maybe not officially mailed to me with my fan club address on the label, but in the form of the kids I work with, one who hugged me tonight and told me she was going to miss me, and wouldn’t let go. In the form of a kid who OD’d in my house and hugged me and wouldn’t let go. In the form of all of the amazing friends that I have collected, yes, I said collected, because they are an eclectic group of people who enhance my life, and that’s a rule of mine, you better enhance my life in some way or there’s the door.

You’re waiting for my point. I already told you there really isn’t one. I’m transitioning. Again. I’m building. I’m regrouping. And I love to put out there how magnificent I am. That part took me a long time, too long.

But really the point is that I’m transitioning. As poor as I am, and as old as I am, that is a luxury. And that makes me rich!

 

 

 

A Day in the Life

There are no accidents. I totally believe that. So let me try to tell you about my day. Without breaching confidentiality, because there was a lot of confidential stuff today personally and professionally.

First, I was able to spend a perfect day with two kids that I love beyond belief. They are a daily reminder of how blessed I am, even when it feels like my life is shitty. These kids have been in my thoughts a lot as I figure out my life. You know, because I’m 50 and I reflect regularly on how I should have discovered how to be a Kardashian before they figured that shit out.

Oh, I say shit a lot. And some other words too, but today that’s the go-to word.

Next. Another kid has been on my mind a lot lately. Mostly because I see conversations about addiction and people don’t get it. Some, just because they’re stupid and don’t want to get it. Some because its a tough thing to understand. I don’t understand it and I’ve lived it. But anyway, even though I like to believe its always about me, its not. Well, like 5% of the time its not, but even now I can make it about me because I’m the one writing this, so suck it if you really believe its not about me.

But, this kid. He OD’d in my house a few  years ago. I’ve written about him a lot. Yeah, go hit the search bar on my site. I ran out in my pajamas tonight because I had some other shit going on and I felt like everyone has pajamas and if people can’t handle seeing me in the store in my pajamas they should stay home. So I came out of the store and just felt eyes on me and not because of my fuzzy pants.

Yeah, it was this kid. He got out of his car and hugged me. And then I hugged him again. And I hugged him again. And then he hugged me again. And we said, “I love you,” a lot. And I hugged him again because I didn’t want to stop hugging him. He looked absolutely beautiful. Being alive does that for a person. And I will never forget the night when I watched him go from white to blue to, and…, well, he’s alive. Not only is he alive, but he is doing great things. So I hugged him again. And told him I loved him again. I wanted to hug him again, but I didn’t want to freak him out, so I resisted the urge. But, I did tell him that I loved him again.

Then I came home and thought about how I’ve been searching lately. Turning 50 makes you think about things. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But I’ve also done a lot right. Just as I was thinking about that, something came across my Facebook feed that reminded me of some professional things, yeah, the confidential part.

So I did what any normal person would do and I wrote an email to my CEO. Ok, keep that between us. Technically I’m not breaking confidentiality, but its sort of nuts that I have nothing better to do on a Friday night than send some crazy emotional email to my CEO. I can’t tell you why I wrote him because then I’d have to breach confidentiality, but just know that he’s awesome and I wanted to say thank you.

Then I thought about the perfect day I had with those kids. Then I called my daughter, who didn’t pick up because, well, she’s busy living life at college. Then I spoke with a few friends, but one in particular who I just adore. No, that’s not to start a competition among my friends. I mean, if they want to fight over me, ok. But then I thought about how lucky I am.

So let me say it again. Wait. Did I say it? Life is good.

I spent a perfect day with kids I love. I ran into this beautiful kid I love. My kids are healthy and happy. I have amazing friends. I have great acquaintances. I love my job.

Life is good. Even if the Jets suck. Life is good.

 

 

 

Girl Power AKA the Power of Girls

I had a friend once who would look at me and say, “if only you could see what I see.” It took me a long time, too long, to see what he did, but I did. Ok, so that’s a little bit of a lie. Sometimes there are days I could use a little reminder, but for the most part no. I get it. I’m pretty awesome.

He taught me to know my worth.

Its a tough thing for many women, too many women. I now have a friend or two that I look at and say, “if only you could see what I see.”

And no. I’m not going to blame men or a male dominated society or any of the other trendy things that are floating out there  about the oppression of women.

I put the blame on women, squarely on women.

We need to be better to ourselves, to each other.  We need to stop the petty bullshit. Well, some of us.

I love women. I know some extraordinary women, many who know their worth, some who don’t.

And the thing is that I love the ones that know their worth. I love how smart and fabulous they are. I spend a great deal of time telling them how much I love them and how amazing they are.

I also love the ones who don’t. I spend a considerable amount of time trying to get them to see what I see.

The whole women can’t be friends line needs to be retired. My world is filled with smart, strong, amazing, incredible women. Real women. True friends. Even the ones that started out as strangers have somehow found their way into an unbelievable circle filled with women that inspire and challenge me regularly.

Knowing all of these exceptional women, whether they know their worth or not, always brings me back to my friend, the one who wanted me to see what he saw. I know my worth. Maybe it took me too long, but I know it. And I look around at all the women in my life and it cements it. Why? Because they are all a reflection of my worth. And, hey, if I’m to be judged by the company I keep, well, I’m pretty freakin fabulous!

We, women, have come so far, even in my lifetime. We can do anything and be anything. Yes, one day one of us will even become President.

For now though let’s take a good look at ourselves and love what we see in the mirror. No, not the fabulous make-up job or great hair, but the person we see. Let’s see what our friends see when they look at us, and let’s find those same things in the women that we love. That’s true #girlpower!

 

 

Addicts Shaming Addicts

I’m not one to ever shame an addict. Yeah, you just read the “but” in there. At least I hope you did. I don’t shame addicts because, well, that’s ridiculous. While I’m unsure about what causes addiction, the whole addiction is a disease thing, or really a lot about addiction, I hate when people say dumb things about addiction, like its a choice. Actually, I just don’t hate when people say that,  I actually think really awful things about them, even idiotic people who are addicts and write dumb things on social media about how addiction is a choice. Does that make sense? Maybe not. To me it does. I’ll try to explain.

I’ll spare you my whole rant about the billion dollar rehab industry and their 10% criminal success rate.  Well, for now. Instead I will talk about the town I live in, the town I grew up in, the town that I raised my children in. It ranked pretty high in drug arrests. Some will say it ranked number one. It also ranked pretty high in rates of overdose. I hate statistics, mostly because I don’t have a math head and  also because I believe one death is too many. Sadly I know of more than one funeral due to a drug overdose. I hate to throw race in there, but despite what many believe, these are white kids. Yeah, I know. Once it hits the rich white kids, people pay attention. Or you’d think they would. Instead they do the WASPy thing and try to sweep it under the rug.

Until very recently my local school district claimed that there was no drug problem. I’m not sure what finally made them acknowledge that there’s a drug problem in this town. They certainly weren’t admitting it when my kids were in the school or when many of their friends were in rehab multiple times. Yeah, while in high school. I don’t know how many needed to be in rehab before the district acknowledged that drugs had hit our town, our schools. I guess they didn’t because it was just the “bad” kids.

So now one of those kids is posting things on social media about addiction being a choice.   He’s one of the first kids I knew was an addict. He was actually the kid I wanted to keep my kid away from, not because I believed addiction was contagious, but because I knew that they would bring out the worst in one another.

My kid lives in another state. He went to a pricey rehab. He relapsed. He went to another rehab. Then he went down to Florida, where halfway houses and rehabs have the worst reputation. I can’t tell you how many nights I couldn’t sleep because I was too busy checking to see if my kid was breathing. I slept less after one of my kid’s friends overdosed in my house after over a year of being clean.

My kid hasn’t been home for Christmas in two years. That’s huge in my house. I imagine it would be huge in your house as well.

So when I read ignorant people writing things on social media, or anywhere else, about addiction, it gets to me. When I read addicts, whether recovered or not, it really sets me off. When I’ve said prayers after hearing they’ve had their stomachs pumped multiple times or offered sympathetic words to their family members after they’ve committed drug-related crimes, it doesn’t just sadden me to read things they’ve written on social media about addiction not being a choice. It actually infuriates me because they’ve been in a position to know better.

I don’t wish bad things on people who write stupid things, especially addicts, recovered or not. So while I never shame addicts, I do shame anyone who purposely refuses to understand that addiction is not a choice. I shame anyone who writes ridiculous things on social media, or anywhere else, especially an addict, recovering or not.

I want nothing more than to have my kid home for birthdays and Christmas. I want to have my kid living with me, if  not, at least within driving distance. I appreciate the people who love my kid, who have taken him in, but I’m also ridiculously jealous, and jealousy is something I’ve never felt in my life, because that’s my kid and now for his own well-being, he can’t live with me, or even close to me.

Addiction is not a choice. Nobody actually chooses that. I’ll spare you the lecture about how the rehab industry is criminal, but only for now because right now I just want to put out there that addiction is not a choice.

I’m not one to ever shame an addict. I love too many addicts. But I will shame an addict who writes asinine crap about addiction being a choice. It is not a choice and the addict who has had his stomach pumped multiple times and been arrested for multiple crimes should never ever write stupid stuff about addiction being a choice. I’ll pray for him, that he gets clean and that nobody ever shames him because I know the road he’s been down. I know the road his mother has been down.

Career Obsessed Banshees

Today I was fortunate enough to be able to call out of work so I could spend the day with my she-devil daughter who believes she can leap tall buildings in a single bound. Oh, when I say fortunate, I mean, I had the time to call out of work sick so I could spend the day with her in the emergency room where she needed fluids as she recovered from the flu. Not because she is weaker than a man, but because it has been a really bad flu season.

 

While we were in the ER, I came across some ridiculous piece written by this man who is running for office. At first, I laughed at the idiocy. Then I read again and handed the phone to my daughter who looked like she’d rather be doing anything than reading such nonsense. She read it, looked at me, and then we both laughed. I wish I could say that it was over after that. It wasn’t. Because we both realized that there are still sad people in this world who think that there are reasons that men and women are not equal.

 

Courtland Sykes is not alone in his stupid thoughts.

 

Ok, so it is a little scary to think that he is running for office, but it is scarier to think that there are people in this country who will vote for him.

 

My daughter’s father did not call out of work to take his daughter to the ER despite the fact that he has triple the sick time that I have. No, that’s not a dig at him. It is just a fact of life. Whether we had been divorced or not, I would have been the one to take her to the doctor. I would have been the one to call out sick. I would have been the one to take care of her, just as I would then have been the one to make her soup, dinner, or whatever it was that she needed. I would also have been the one to make dinner or order dinner for our other children.

 

I have never asked for a pat on the back for being the sole caregiver of my children, but Courtland Sykes made me think about the fact that I am many of the things he wants for his daughters. I have intelligence, dignity, my own workspace. I have built a career even if I don’t share my home with a man.  I love what I do for a living, but I’m hardly career obsessed, and I certainly did not forego a home life, children, or the happiness of my family. And no, I don’t believe men are suppressing me, well, not most men, just silly ones like Courtland Sykes.

 

I had a father who told me I could be whoever I wanted to be. I have brothers who are raising daughters to be whoever they want to be. I have a brother-in-law who is raising my nieces, well, those girls are getting ready to own the world.

A man like Courtland Sykes who tells you he supports women’s rights but then goes into some silly diatribe calling for women, his daughters, to be home cooking dinner for their men, well men like that aren’t for women’s rights, and I don’t have to tell you that.

I have the best of both worlds. I get to go enjoy a career that I love, actually two careers that I love. I also get to be the one home with my kids. I am the one to cook for them, order take-out if I don’t feel like cooking, and the one to still be there to go sit on their beds at night and hear about their day.

Some days its tough and I wish that I had help. Some days I’m grateful that its all mine, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

There is not one day I ever wish I had a Courtland Sykes as a partner or in the Senate representing me.

I want to say that the Courtland Sykes of this world don’t matter, but they do. He is running for United States Senate. He was bold enough to post a statement calling women banshees simply for believing they deserve equal rights. People will vote for him. I wouldn’t. Maybe you wouldn’t. But there are people who will.

Maybe me calling out from work today to care for my daughter was because I am a woman, but it was not weakness. I love my child and I have a career, two actually. But I made a choice, a choice I would hope a man would make, and that choice was to be there to nurture my child.

Taking my daughter to the ER today was never a choice between being a mother or a career woman. There was no decision to be a radical feminist or a mother.

I was able to be both. I was able to be the feminist who showed my daughter that while she can be ill and still be a student, I could be a mother and still have a career.

So suck it Courtland Sykes.

 

Golden Globe Hypocrites

I couldn’t watch the Golden Globes this year. The whole wearing black as a form of protest made me want to throw up.

 

In a recent interview Alec Baldwin admitted that everyone had heard stories that Harvey Weinstein had raped Rose McGowan. As in, everyone in Hollywood knew.

 

Meryl Streep recently called out Ivanka and Melania Trump for their silence.

 

Meryl Streep did not call out Georgina Chapman.

 

Last year Meryl Streep went on a rant about Donald Trump. Where is her rant this year? Where is her apology for her silence? Her donation to the politically correct cause?

 

There is video of Ben Affleck grabbing Hilarie Burton’s breast. He went on Stephen Colbert where he was supposedly “embarrassed” but then talked about the donations he’d be making. Because donations change everything. Thanks Stephen Colbert for giving him the platform for his damage control.

 

Oh, most of Hollywood still lauds Roman Polanski. They still can’t call him a rapist. They still are incapable of acknowledging that there is never ever a time that it is ok to anally penetrate a child. I mean, unless you are Roman Polanski.

 

Which brings me to, and I hate to say this, but Ronan Farrow. I loved his article that broke Weinstein-gate. Is it called that yet? Hmm. Still, I can’t help but wonder where his article about his mother is. You know, the one where he calls her out for her support of Polanski. Maybe Mia had a rough life, but she was married to Frank Sinatra. She was in a long-term relationship with Woody Allen. After the whole Woody thing fell apart, she still very publicly supported Roman.

 

No. I don’t expect Ronan to roast his mom, but maybe take a look at his mom’s actions and support of abusive men and look a little deeper into how the rest of Hollywood was on the same page, still is on the same page, even if they’re wearing designer black at an awards ceremony.

 

Mira Sorvino’s career was ruined. Who questioned that?

 

Kevin Spacey’s career wasn’t. Bill Cosby’s career wasn’t. Danny Masterson’s wasn’t. Brett Ratner’s wasn’t. There is a long list.

 

Oh, and Roman Polanski still has the support of Hollywood, probably most of those wearing the black tonight.

 

People knew what Harvey Weinstein was doing, what he did. This wasn’t some explosive secret that was blown open. Sorry Ronan. You just had the power and privilege that allowed you to write about what everyone knew.

I couldn’t watch the Golden Globes tonight because the all black protest was sickening. I’d rather all of those hypocrites say that they felt powerless, that they didn’t know what to do, the way Harvey’s victims felt, except they couldn’t possibly know how Harvey’s victims felt, unless they were victims themselves.

 

And if they were victims they’d know that no amount of black could ever make it right.