Wind Whipped Whackiness

Once you realize that energy is what we all are and that everything in the universe is energy, it's a little easier to be on the lookout for whacky stuff to happen. Wind is my least favorite element. Especially here in Southern California where we have Santa Ana winds. I don't know what else comes from Santa Ana, but their wind sucks. And it brings the crazy with it. Like yesterday.

Driving on Sherman Way...as if dodging falling palm fronds and swirling trash wasn't enough...I briefly got sucked into a vortex of whackiness...at the intersection of Sherman Way and Canoga Ave. an ambulance, sirens blaring rolled haltingly into the intersection. Everyone was stopped and I slowed way down figuring the ambulance would pass and I could continue across. But the driver saw me and hesitated! What a pussy. No New York ambulance would hesitate. So I had to stop.

Next block up is the DMV. The ambulance is now screaming in the far left lane but right there in front of it...turn signal on...crawling along is a Honda SUV...and, sorry PC police...the driver was an Asian chick...who stops right there in front of the ambulance! I'm driving past...not believing the wacky tableau I'm seeing...Ambulance stopped...siren still screaming...driver gesturing wildly at the SUV driver...who is frozen like a statue, staring straight ahead...in front of the DMV.

I had a little giggle about it...right before I had to slam on my brakes to stop from ramming into the traffic jam in front of the Vallarta Market...caused by a noisy, arm waving stand off between a Mexican Fruity Freeze trolley and a Falafel cart in the driveway. "This is my corner!" "No this is MY corner!" Thankfully right after that the vortex spit me back out...but I was reminded to always be present in the moment. Good job Universe!

P.S. The Donald hates wind too.

My 100th Post!!! For Michael C on Project Runway

If you're reading this, imagine balloons and streamers falling all around you. Woohoo!

I still love Project Runway and I think it's back on sure footing after it's move from Bravo and to LA. They're back in NYC where they belong and have the best judging panel on TV if you ask me. Michael Kors is a walking sound bite but also one our greatest designers. Heidi, Nina Garcia, Michael Kors and Tim Gunn all now their stuff and their critiques are always insightful and help the design contestants improve their work. The show is a super-sized 90 minutes now, which allows for more drama (something reality watchers crave) but I really enjoyed the expanded version this week because we got to see how the judges were prepping the final 4 for Fashion Week. They gave each of them suggestions for improving their chances on the runway. Loved Heidi's comment to Gretchen about putting her models in high heels to avoid the "Schlumping along" and adding to the already "Holly Hobby-ish" looking collection. More than anything, these judges make me wish I could sew!

But, I'm really writing about this because the elimination of Michael C. was so wrenchingly sad. I feel like these four finalists - Mondo, Andy, Gretchen and Michael C. have more riding on the outcome than any other contestants in the history of the show, in my opinion. Each of them has sacrificed pretty much everything for their dream and gone balls to the wall to make them come true. Each of them feels like if they don't make it to Fashion Week, it's over for them and they have nothing to go back to. Michael more so than the others in a way because he still struggles with believing in himself and allowed the slings and arrows of the less talented haters really get under his skin...Ivy, I'm looking at you bitch. He made it to the final 4 but when he was eliminated, I felt his despair like a knife. He was thinking about how his family was now going to insist on him finally "giving up and moving back home." Like the show was his last chance at his dream and now that he only made it to 4th, it's time to get a job at Home Depot and stop the fantasizing!

I've been there. More than once. The last time was a year ago. Everything came crashing down with a deafening crescendo. You can only rise from the ashes so many times and I had done so much work, put in so much passion to rebuild after the previous crash - all the while telling myself it was all or nothing. Big stakes. And at my age, to have it burn to the ground again...I did give up. I was done. I wanted out. I shut down completely. I was, frankly, planning to kill myself...Obviously, I didn't. One person stopped me. But I wasn't really living either. I denied myself everything. Stopped taking care of myself. Punished myself for "failing." Living without my dream wasn't living. It felt like I had been pushed out of heaven.

Slowly, verrry slowly, I started to recover. I've washed off the sack cloth and ashes I had forced myself to wear and try hard to not be so hard on myself. The flame that I ground out so viciously is flickering and growing bigger and warmer again. My body and mind are still pretty fatigued at the thought of pushing the boulder up that hill again but what choice do they have? Because there's no way I can walk this earth and not be going after what I came here for. So, all you fragile creative spirits that have been crushed...as desolate as it seems, you'll have no choice but to reemerge and flower once again. We are the flowers of this earth. Like nature herself, we are supplying the earth with her beauty. I see your beauty and I'm happy that you're here.

I love you.

Bullying Part Trois: Smiling Eyes

Bullying is certainly not limited to kid on kid. Where do you think kids learn it from?

When I was in 3rd grade, I had a teacher named Miss Davis. She was a big brassy, bawdy broad with an Ethel Merman voice and I loved her. I also thought I was one of her favorite students. I did excellent work in her class because I wanted more than anything to please her.

Funny, I can't remember what started it. There was a group of us kids goofing off in some way that irked Miss Davis enough to punish us. So, during recess she marched the six of us over to the Four Square court and made us stand around the painted circle with our legs and arms spread. All around us life continued. Other kids were playing. Some were coming over to see what we were doing. She let them laugh and point at us before she chased them off. It was chilly. Granted, it was fall in Manhattan Beach, not Ohio - but it was foggy and cold and damp. The bell blessedly rang and we thought the punishment was over.

As the playground emptied and it got quiet, we continued to stand there. Our little arms and legs shaking from cold and the strain of our stance. Before she released us she asked us all to smile at her and apologize. One by one we did it. Me too. But she wouldn't let me go. "You're not smiling with your eyes, Marion." By this time I was shaking so badly, my teeth were chattering. But some of that shaking was from anger. I had apologized and smiled - with my mouth...met the criteria. But my eyes must have made her uneasy because in them she saw a soul that refused to be broken. So she made me stand out there, in the growing gloom, shivering and shaking. My lips were sticking to my teeth. I could see my house and the kitchen window and the silhouette of my mother...watching. Yes! My heart leapt. Any second I expected the front door to fly open and my mother to come to my rescue. But she didn't. She stood and watched. Like Betty Draper but without the cigarette. I wanted to give up but knew I'd die before I gave this bitch my smiling eyes.

Miss Davis finally gave in and let me go. My arms and legs felt heavy and wooden as I walked back into the classroom. I hated her after that.

When I came home my mother slapped me.

Bullying Part Deux: The Heart of the Matter

Have I ever bullied anyone? Eh. Let's just say I've fought fire with fire...and, I didn't always have control over my own fire power.

Quick story. My daughter was in Jr. High. Her best friend Taryn (yes, that's your real name bitch) turned on her in order to be popular with another clique. They began crank calling my daughter and saying horrible things to her and hanging up. How did I find this out?? I came into her bedroom one evening to find her curled up in the corner crying. She didn't want to tell me what was wrong but I persisted.

Important plot point: Star 69 had just been invented. I was heartbroken and furious at the same time. So...I hit *69 and lo and behold, Taryn's 17 year old sister (who's name I unfortunately can't remember) answered. I could hear muffled giggling in the room as the sister tried to lie and deny. They were too stupid to realize that this new technology existed. A voice came, from deep inside my gut "If you ever call here again, for any reason, even by accident, I will drive to your house, climb through your bedroom window, sit on your chest, rip your heart out and eat it in front of you." It came out with such cold, quiet, visceral viciousness that I almost threw up but I meant it. Those bitches never called again and for the remainder of the 17 year old's school career, if she saw me - she'd cross the street. Was it wrong? Could I have handled it differently? Hey, I've got my own shit and I own it. And it worked. I did my job. I stepped in and protected my kid. The best way I knew how. Whatever else in this uncertain world, she knew she had a mom that had her back. And so did everyone else.

Gordon Ramsey is a Bully

...and he's not the only one. The Media fosters bullying behavior with reality TV competitions that encourage singling out and humiliating the weak and behind the scenes in Hollywood it's a hotbed of bullying behavior. The military calls their demeaning, humiliating, berating and extremely dangerous bullying "character building." Bullying is the topic du jour right now in America. But it will fade away again...until the next child suicide or Columbine type shooting.

How many of us will do something about it besides share a link or two. Unless it's happening in our direct path, most of us will go on with our lives because we all have our own stuff to deal with. And to everyone who has witnessed bullying and done nothing, I say "Do it differently next time." I know it's not easy to step in and confront someone. Few of us enjoy confrontation, especially with the possibility of violence. But come on! Teachers, parents...OPEN YOUR EYES AND EARS. Parents, don't assume because your kid says everything is fine that it is and you can go back to watching TV or working out or whatever. If you pay even the slightest attention to your kid, you'll know something's up and it's your job to get to the bottom of it. YOU are your child's keeper and protector. Teachers, you are PAID to TEACH. That includes teaching them how to treat each other...and, I'm sorry...it's also your job to pay attention and nip any kind of abusive behavior in the bud. I just read the blog post from "Single Dad Laughing" which is linked here. It's a singularly sad and depressing tale of his childhood nightmare of being bullied mercilessly for years and his parents NEVER KNOWING. His mother asked but he always said he was "fine." And sorry lady, you fucked up on the job. He was not fine and I bet it was obvious. But it's such a relief to hear them say they are fine because then we can make our nail appointments on time, right? To be fair, I don't know what his mother was doing but seriously. What I took away from his post was the stunning lack of care from anyone at his school(s) to step in. If you worked on the line at the Ford plant and fucked up that many cars, you'd be fired. These are not robots you're spending your days with people. They are HUMAN BEINGS that will be forever shaped and marked in part by their school-hood experiences. To quote a greatly celebrated bully of our time "You've burned the fucking RISOTTO!!!"

To all the Gays I've loved before

I've been a Hag since 1971. What's a hag? A woman who keeps company with gay men. Usually the Fag/Hag relationship is very similar to the Girlfriend/Boyfriend relationship (see Will & Grace). In the years since I became Original Hag, it seems as though our modern fags (offended? stop reading) have become even more narcissistic and self involved. It became all about having the most ripped upper torso - why oh why do they always neglect their calves? - having the tightest whitest shorts for Palm Springs. From what I can tell, at least here in L.A...the younger generation of gay men (and I'm talking about 30's & younger) have no integrity - especially when it comes to cherishing their Hags. Hags today seem to have become like fag "coordinators" who's job it is to "assist" their pod of gays by telling them how fine they are, not minding being ditched at a club without a ride and taking millions of pictures at the seemingly inexhaustible "pride" events and then posting them on whatever the most popular social network of the moment is. I lost my taste for hagdom when I realized they were getting more out of the relationship than I was and wanted it that way.

Having recently reconnected with my Orignial Fag, I was reminded of how it used to be. As a strong, independent woman in the entertainment business believe me, I've had to learn to fend for myself. So, it was with surprise and a strange deja vu that my Saturday night unfolded. My Original Fag - who I'll call Bear Daddy - cuz that's what he is now - picked me up, drove us to the club, took my hand and kept me with him through the dense dancing crowd, made sure I had a drink, fed me, stood guard while I peed...what more can I say. He is a gentleman. I think that's the core of it. Gay, straight, whatever - there's a courtly-ness missing from today's men. At first, I resisted allowing him to lead me and guide me and protect me - it was so foreign! But since I'm all about staying open to and absorbing new opportunities and experiences these days - I made myself get past it and realized, I like it. No LOVE it!

So to all the Gays I've loved before. None of whom will read this, I'm sure...because if it's not about them they don't care...take a hint. You're not always going to be young and beautiful. So unless you've become verrry successful and can make the transition to "Daddy" status, soon you'll be homo-non-grata AND you won't have a good Hag to turn to.