Two Years Later: Trying to Live My Best Life

Update: I’m busy as hell and this summer has been chaotic. But! I was able to sneak away to Rehoboth for a week and the beach is always a nice break from the craziness.

I really needed the ocean waves to heal me (even though they also dropped me on my ass a few times) because I’ve had some heavy things on my mind. Summer has become kind of a rough time for me in general for reasons I’ve mentioned in other posts. But to be clear, today is the anniversary of my father’s passing. It’s so weird to say that still. It still feels really new somehow. Almost unreal, like he’s still around but I just haven’t talked to him in a while. Every once in a while when I’m speaking to someone new and parents come up in conversation, it’s difficult to find the words. Like, how do you casually tell someone your father is dead without stopping the conversation cold? Those are the weird things I struggle with.

You know, I recently watched that new Netflix show, Stranger Things (which, by the way, is fantastic and you should go watch immediately) and there is a scene where the police chief is asked about his daughter and he says something like, “She lives with her mom in the city.” He walks away and the person he was talking to was informed that his daughter actually passed away. Sorry for the minor spoiler there but I really, this captures that experience so perfectly because there’s no guidebook on how and when you tell something like this to another person. But not acknowledging it seems…. like a dishonor somehow? And dishonest.

Once, at work, I had a newer colleague ask me what my dad does for a living and where he’s living these days. I paused for a half a second and I honestly considered just saying he was in California (which isn’t really a lie – his ashes were spread along the Pacific Coastline) because I didn’t really want to him to look at me with pity in his eyes. I didn’t want to hear “I’m so sorry” and I didn’t want to have to explain what happened. But in the end, I said that my father had passed recently. I tried to sound breezy about it but I actually sounded very high pitched and the words got stuck in my throat for a beat. The guy was polite and said the standard “I’m sorry” (which I mean… as much as I have grown to hate those words, what else is someone going to say in that scenario?) but then we sort of just… moved on. There wasn’t any real weirdness and I didn’t carry that moment with me for days and days. It’s a process – finding little ways to be okay with something that is very much not okay and learning how to manage your grief in healthy manners.

The hardest moments honestly are the times it’s unexpected. When I was at the beach this summer, the group of us strolled down the boardwalk after dinner in search of ice cream and we discovered the most hilarious and random Elvis impersonator performing on the main gazebo with a bunch of back up dancers/singers and very bright lights. It was hilarious and I loved it but it also made me think of my dad, whom I have road tripped with to Las Vegas many times. He was OBSESSED with horrible Elvis impersonators and would plan an entire evening in Vegas around finding the best (or maybe worst?) ones the city had to offer. There is a whole album he had of pictures he’d taken with impersonators over the years. It was such a weird interest and the second I saw that Elvis in Rehoboth, my first thought was, “I have to text this to dad”…. and then I remembered. Those moments when I forget for half a second – those are the most brutal times. Remembering that I will never hear him laugh again or say his signature, “Well isn’t that something?”

It’s been two years. Two years. My dad has been gone for two years. How does anyone ever get used to that? He never got to see The Force Awakens. He never got to hear the music of Hamilton. He never got the opportunity to mock the British for Brexit (which he would have done with many, many terrible dad jokes, none of which I can even dream up). He and I will never spend another Thanksgiving together. We’re never again going to sit on the beach together and watch the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. We’re never going to have another argument over which is better – French toast or waffles. (Yes, French toast is the answer. My dad was confused, clearly.)

As Chris Hardwick often talks about on his Nerdist podcast, I’m also part of the Dead Dad Club and I’m still learning how to cope with it. I got through Father’s Day without crying, which is kind of amazing. And I’ve surrounded myself with people that make me see the good in the world. This week had its ups and downs but I was able to spend time with people I care about and who fill my life with laughter. Over the weekend I will be celebrating a couple of birthdays, for two awesome people that help in keeping this crazy life of mine fun. It’s helped in making this week less somber and more of a celebration of life and appreciating what I still have to hold on to. I know it’s what my dad would want. He grew up with nothing (except the strongest and most loving mother in the world, which I guess is actually everything) and all he wanted was for me and my siblings to know that we were loved and lucky – and we should spread love and generosity to others who needed it and accept love in return. I am fiercely independent, to a fault in some ways, so the “accepting love” part can be hard for me sometimes…. but it’s something I’ve gotten better at, especially in the past few years.

I guess my point is…. today is hard. But it could be harder, so I think maybe I’m in a healthier place than I have been in the past year or two? Instead of feeling like the world is ending all over again, I’m going to do all the things my dad would want me to do today – do something generous for another person, hug my dog, watch a Star Wars movie, eat ice cream for lunch, spend quality time with my brother, celebrate life with my friends. I’m going to live the best possible version of my life today because that’s the best way I can think of to honor him. How lucky am I to have a dad who, even when he’s passed, inspires me to be happy and to do good things?

An Ode to Harley Quinn (And Why I'm a Little Nervous)

So I've been thinking a lot about the character Harley Quinn and how her character in Suicide Squad will be like.

During my free time, I've bee re-watching a lot of Batman: The Animated Series because it's a great show to just have in the background and I find it oddly comforting. I've long said - and will probably continue to say so for many more years to come - that this is the best version of Batman that has ever been made. It has it all - it's fun and savvy, with an emotional complexity that appeals to kids and adults alike, with absurd villains as well as moral questions that don't always come with easy, spoon-fed answers. Yes there is the typical good guy/bad guy narrative that you'll see in just about any comic book/superhero story but it's actually kind of surprising how many times I'd get to the end of an episode and feel torn about an outcome - or the lack of one. It's the kind of smart show I don't even feel like they make for kids anymore (but please tell me if I'm wrong).

Now, with all that being said.... I'm worried about Harley in the Suicide Squad movie, which is set to premiere in August. But I guess I have to explain her as a character a little bit in order to be clear about why I'm worried.

Harley is, without a doubt, one of the best comic creations I've ever come across. She was introduced towards the beginning of season one of the animated series and was intended as a one-shot character to never be seen again. However, she tested so well and was so immediately popular that they brought her back as Joker's permanent sidekick/on again-off again girlfriend. Her popularity and cult following grew so much that over time she was written into the DC Comics canon and was even given her own comic book series - having adventures separate from the Joker often times. What is so great about Harley is her penchant for fun above all things and her almost childlike joy when causing chaos. Her bubbly personality is infectious and it's hard not to like her even when she's doing some very, very bad things. There are characters that are firmly grounded as heroes or villains but she doesn't truly fall under either of those categories. She's alarmingly complex. Which brings me to her relationship to the Joker....

Now keep in mind when I first started watching this show, I was about 9 years old. And throughout my life, I've periodically gone back to it. And sometimes when you grow up with something, you get caught in what I like to call a "nostalgia cloud" and certain things that are troubling don't really hit you the way that they should. I stand by the statement that the animated series is fantastic but it's not without its problems. Also, I have read an extensive amount of Harley Quinn story lines in comics throughout the years and she's really been fully fleshed in this really interesting, human way. I say all this because as I have been rewatching the TV series, I've realized that the relationship depicted between herself and the Joker is.... really really hard to watch.

I'm older, I'm wiser and I've met and worked with women who are victims of abuse. And Harley Quinn is a deeply damaged and mentally ill person who is in a really horrifically abusive relationship. Now I don't think there's anything wrong with showing a person in an abusive relationship - in fact I support that 100%. Brings light to uncomfortable truths that people find difficult to face. But there's a light-heartedness to Joker's abuse of Harley that makes me feel queasy. I mean, it's very clear that the Joker is "wrong' in treating her the way he does and they even go into the background of how the relationship began (Harley was his psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum) but I'm not sure the show really made it clear how messed up that relationship actually was and why. And that "why" is very very important for young impressionable children. Even the Harley and Joker merchandising sends mixed messages. Why are they being treated like star-crossed lovers or soul mates or something? Essentially, Joker drove her to madness and then continues to mentally and physically beat her throughout their partnership. Why has that been romanticized?

Again, the comics really flesh out Harley, her story and her illness in a way that I think is real unlike almost any other character I can think of. She's very relatable and it's hard not to empathize with her (and to feel the frustration when she inevitably goes back to the Joker every time for reasons varying from wanting the change him to not feeling she's worthwhile without him). It's actually incredibly heartbreaking but it's also such an honest representation.

But.... I digress. Back to Suicide Squad. I'm really looking forward to this movie for a lot of reasons - I think this will finally be a DC Comics film I can get behind (since I loathed Man of Steel and cannot bring myself to watch its ill-reviewed sequel). I think DC Comics is doing their best with this next movie to lighten the tone and to "de-grimify" their franchise, which I fully support. It's just going to be difficult to navigate a film which is going to focus very much on Harley and the Joker and their complicated relationship. Based on the trailers, everything I've read about the story being depicted and some leaked footage that has made its way onto the interwebs, it appears that Joker is very much going to be portrayed as Harley's abuser but I am concerned about how that will be written. It can be done very well (as I think the Netflix original Jessica Jones proved in spades) but it'll be a very fine line and if they miss the mark, everything will fall apart.

Though at the same time.... the movie has to try to find a way to be fun.

I'm very interested to see if the director, David Ayer, is able to pull it off. I'm a big fan of Street Kings and End of Watch and both featured very complex characters but these were also very dark movies.

Anyway, I'm counting down the days until I finally get to meet the world's first on-screen Harley Quinn (96 days, y'all) and I'm hoping they honor her the way that they should. We're finally entering an era of bad ass female characters on the big (and small) screen and I just want these women to thrive - Harley, Jessica Jones, Wonder Woman (!!!), Captain Marvel, and even this new Mockingbird "Most Wanted" series (a spin off based on the only character on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. I actively enjoy). I can only hope this trend continues. Movies like Mad Max: Fury Road and Star Wars: The Force Awakens and their rampant popularity and success certainly have helped the cause. The last thing I want to see happen is a regression or more of the same old patriarchal shit.

Here's hoping for the best in this new Nerd Girl Golden Age.

Musings: When Songs Change Us

So recently I had the honor of listening to Bob Boilen of NPR’s All Songs Considered speak at his book launch (and by the way, if you haven’t picked it up yet, the book is called Your Song Changed My Life and it’s fantastic). During the event, he touched on what song changed him and what songs were picked by other artists he interviewed for his book and why. It made me think about myself and
what song has impacted me on that level, if any. I thought about it for a long time. Music is very important in my life and I have a very eclectic collection so picking just one song seemed daunting. I’ve spent days asking my friends what songs they would pick and I have gotten an array of answers – “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead (which was a contender for me as well); “Suedehead” by Morrissey; “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine; and even “Pony” by Ginuwine (ahem, hello sexual awakenings). But for me, I kept coming up empty. Would I choose something by Radiohead? Jeff Buckley? The Beatles? Oasis? Otis Redding? Lauryn Hill? I had no idea how to even go about deciding how to pick this one song! So many songs have meant so many different things to me. And then I had to stop thinking so hard and really just sit back and track back my musical history to a moment in time and suddenly it was very clear to me.

I was 16 years old and I was living in Lakeridge, VA – a bitter transplant from San Diego. I grew up listening to and loving my parents’ music – I didn’t rebel against it at all, I embraced it. Donna Summers? Yes! Smokey Robinson? Aye! The Mamas and the Papas? You betcha! I loved it all – so much so that by the time I reached my teens, I felt like an out-of-place weirdo. Like, why didn’t other people my age love this music as much as I loved it?

OK, let me take a step back actually. I don’t want to make it seem like I was or am above Top 40s. Definitely not the case! I owned that first Spice Girls album (and still listen to it to this day). My very first live “concert” was when I was in preschool and I saw Tiffany at the mall. The first tape I ever bought was Different Light by the Bangles (which, by the way, we will revisit by the end of this blog post). If I hear “Everybody” by the Backstreet Boys, I will dance my ass off. Ace of Base – they were my spirit animals. I liked all the music that my fellow 90s kids liked…. but for the most part, it was all very superficial (as a lot of that music can be) and I never felt an emotional connection to most of it. That was reserved for the real music – my parent’s music.

At the not-so-tender age of 16, I believed that no one was really making the kind of music that could crawl into your gut and pull at your insides. I mean my older brother introduced me to the Kinks, Violent Femmes, Talking Heads, Queen, The Smiths, Joy Division…. but that still felt like HIS music – like I was just glomming onto, yet again, a better greater era that had come to an end. And hey, nothing wrong with that! I’d accepted this lot in life and I was fine with it. The music industry had given up and I would just have to be okay with the Third Eye Blinds and Jennifer Lopez’s of the world.

But then a weird and magical thing happened.

I was with a good friend of mine (one whom I have written about before and was probably the most important friendship of my life) and his birthday was coming up. His family was forcing him to celebrate it and he was dreading it because he hated his parents and they were going on a road trip to FLORIDA. Knowing how upset he was about the impending doom, I took him out to dinner – some bougie place by the Torpedo Factory in Old Town Alexandria. We had steak and spiked our Shirley Temples. It was March and still pretty chilly out so he wrapped his coat around me while we walked around the pier. We talked about the books we were reading and how we were going to live in NYC together one day and start a band. He teased me about my love of the Bangles (who, at that time, was my absolute FAVORITE BAND IN THE WHOLE WORLD) and I defended it. I serenaded him, terribly off key, with the Bangles’ “Angels Don’t Fall in Love” and he groaned and shoved me and told me he loved me even though my taste in music was total shit. And I teased him for being a pretentious prat because all he listened to was The Smiths and The Cure – and while I also loved those bands, I was more open to more kinds of music out there and he was not (or so I believed).

We got into my mom’s car (I was sober, promise) and waited for it to warm up. I flipped through my wallet of CDs and started to put that Bangles album into the player and my friend begged me not to make him listen to it again – not on his birthday. I almost reminded him that this wasn’t his car and it wasn’t ACTUALLY his birthday – it was in a week – but I let it go. I told him we could listen to whatever he wanted to listen to. He pulled this CD out of his messenger bag and the cover was this gorgeous redheaded woman lying on a dirty floor – she had on this leather jacket and her eyes were open but I wasn’t sure if she was alive or not. The band name was Neko Case & Her Boyfriends and the album was Furnace Room Lullaby. I’d heard some of it before that point – but not really. More like it would be playing in my friend’s room when I’d show up to hang out…. and I wo
uld immediately make him change it because one type of music that I refused to give a chance was country. Sure, I mean there’s like Johnny Cash and Emmylou Harris but they were exceptions! But today’s country music? Nope. I did not do twang. I’d hear a couple notes from that Neko Case album and I’d make him turn it off straight away.

But this was his “birthday” and he knew that this was the moment he was going to get me to shut the fuck up and listen. Honestly, I don’t actually even think he was trying to get me to care about this album as much as he just wanted to listen to it because he loved it and this time I was finally going to be quiet and not whine over Neko Case’s singing.

I carefully pulled out of the parking space as he hit play. I remember sort of listening but not really during that first track. As I drove out of Old Town and my friend lit up a cigarette next to me and rolled down the window, I started to settle into the music more. By the third track, I was in. I was all in. The song “Porchlight” has long been one of my favorite Neko Case songs but really it was “Mood to Burn Bridges” that really struck me:

So if you want moral advice 
I suggest you just tuck it all away
'Cause my mood to burn bridges
Parallels my mood to dig ditches
Don't cross me on neither a day, baby

My mind was exploding. It was just like, “Oh shit what is this?!” The lyrics were a punch in the stomach. But more importantly the musicality of it! The album as a whole was firmly placed in the realm of country but wasn’t married to whatever pop hell modern country had supposedly devolved into. It was so expansive – one moment ethereal and the next ass-kicking. And “Mood to Burn Bridges” toed this weird line between playful and vengeful that just…. got it. I don’t know how else to say that. And what I found amazing is while this was definitely an “alternative” country album, there were so many more things happening – it was a little bit rock n roll and a little bit bluesy. And it was all weaved together in this perfect partnership of badass harmony in a way that I had never been exposed to before. It was honestly the very first time that I realized that a) there were artists today still making fucking incredible music and b) genre bending in music is, you know, a thing and it’s amazing.

After that, I started to break out of the “musical box” I had created for myself and explored what else was out there. Neko Case was my entrance into a whole new world. And that first time listening to “Mood to Burn Bridges” was the moment I saw the door to that world open up. And while Neko Case herself is firmly a Gen-Xer (and had been in the music industry already for quite some time), this was definitely MY era of music, finally. Someone who was out there NOW making music that was speaking to me. And through Neko Case, I discovered artists like the New Pornographers, AC Newman, Pretty Girls Make Graves, Evan Kane, Ryan Adams, Linda McRae, Wilco and so many others. From that moment on, my devotion to music can almost be described as religious.

I still keep a special place tucked away in my heart for bands like The Bangles and Ace of Base, but I had finally discovered my own world of emotionally intricate music that wasn’t through someone else’s generation and it felt pretty good. (Though, that being said, one of the things that I love about Neko Case’s music is how timeless it really is.) And in the end, it shaped who I am now as an appreciator of the musical arts – and really, also opened up emotional flood gates I didn’t even know I had. And what more can you even ask for?

So thank you, Neko Case – thank you for giving me a musical world that feels like mine. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be lost in a sea of bubblegum pop and booty-popping remixes, wishing desperately to wake up in a generation of music that understood me in any way. Keep on keeping on, you badass punk rock Patsy Cline.

Bill Cosby: Our Role in Perpetuating Celebrity Canonization

I would like to start off by stating that I wasn’t originally going to say anything more about this Bill Cosby situation - for a multitude of reasons. I posted my opinion on the Cosby Show as an entity (and that opinion hasn’t changed) but after weeks and weeks of this continued media coverage, it’s getting harder to express my full anger towards everything that’s happening. First, I want to make this very clear right from the bat – while I believe we live in a society where a person should be seen as innocent until proven otherwise and that witch hunts are fundamentally toxic, I do believe that Bill Cosby is guilty of these allegations… that he’s a rapist. I believe it 100% and will certainly eat my words if, at a later date, somehow these allegations are proven to be a conspiracy of lies.

Now that I have that out of the way, I am going to say nothing in defense of Bill Cosby. He has been able to get away with far too much over his decades of Hollywood power and it’s not right that he’s had to suffer zero repercussions until these last couple of weeks when all forms of media have recoiled from him almost simultaneously – no more Cosby Show on TV Land, no comedy special on Netflix, cancelled pilot for NBC. And while a bunch of people are like, “Yeah! He’s finally getting his just desserts!”… my response is, “Well what about the victims?”

Oh, the victims, you say? Yes, them.

And let me say that I am APPALLED at a lot of the things I’ve been reading. I have heard an equal amount of people express disgust towards Cosby’s horrifying actions as they have towards the women who have waited so long to come out about this – either because it was irresponsible of them or implying that this is all one big lie. I don’t even know which of these is most offensive so let’s address both, shall we?

I have never been raped. I cannot and will not presume to know what enduring that kind of violation is like. God willing, I’ll never know. More importantly, since I’ve never been through it, I find it absolutely VILE to express judgment towards anyone who has and how they react to it. The fear and the shame that one has to deal with is on a level I can’t even comprehend and I can imagine one’s knee jerk reaction to just cover it up. Is that the absolute best decision a person could make in that situation? Probably not, guys – but victim shaming is the exact fucking reason why people DON’T feel brave enough to say anything.

And the implying that these women are lying…. I don’t even know where to begin. I mean, anything is possible. The reality is that there are people who are fame-grabbers, who would stoop to the lowest lows for a piece of it…. but are we honestly ready to believe that ALL of these women are just making it up to target Bill Cosby for… what? No charges have been filed. No charges CAN be filed due to the statute of limitations. None of these women, to our knowledge, have asked him for money – and he has PLENTY of it so believe me, he would have eagerly thrown them millions in order to keep wiping this under the rug. I guess one could argue book deals, TV movies, guest spots on daytime TV talk shows and the like but surely we can’t believe that this has zero basis in reality. And even if one or two of these women are lying, there’s a thin line between reserving judgment and – yes, here we go again – good ol’ fashioned victim shaming.

Twitter and Facebook have been on FIRE with pointing fingers at these women – as well as countless bloggers and journalists. And then… I saw that horrifying segment on The View. Now I've never respected this show anyway. From day one, it seemed like an insulting, demoralizing, soulless exploration into exactly what happens when a bunch of rich and famous women are happy to sell out their own gender for a few gold coins and a captive audience. However, to be fair to them, I had never actually watched the show – until this week. What I saw was perhaps the most nauseating and hateful thing I've seen in a long time. If you are truly unable to have a serious, thoughtful dialogue about rape then just shut up. If all your capable of is victim-blaming and defending your good ol’ celebrity buddy Bill (and not even TRYING to look at this from both sides) then you have no business having a national audience. You embarrassed me as a woman, Cast of the View. And you embarrassed yourselves. Perhaps the show is always like this (like I said, I've never watched it) but if it is, then our society is in worst shape than I realized. Stay at home moms, there are better things to watch on TV, I swear! DO NOT CONTINUE WATCHING THIS SHOW!!! I’m dead serious. It’s incredibly problematic.

But I digress.

All of this has been pretty terrible. But what gets to me the most is how people, for the most part, aren't looking at the bigger issue – that Bill Cosby was in a position to get away with this for so long at all and how we glorify these celebrities so much that they are no longer people to us anymore. It’s clear that people have reacted so strongly to this because everyone has this idea of who they think this man is – a voice for the black community, a pudding pop-pusher who loved “keeping it real” and making us a laugh, Heathcliff Huxtable, our ideal father and advisor. It is hard to accept that he is capable of these crimes he’s committed because we have to accept that he is not who we have turned him into in our collective minds – and more importantly, because of this level of worshiping, we are complicit in granting him the level of power to get away with these crimes. I am a believer of personal responsibility so I’m not saying because you looked up to Bill Cosby that means you’re the reason those women were attacked. Bill Cosby is the reason those women were attacked, and him alone, but we do have to understand that his ability to live a life free of repercussions is because we live in a society that treats the rich and powerful as untouchables. There’s that old term, “With great power comes great responsibility.” I think a more accurate term would be, “With great power comes a great big stack of Get out of Jail Free cards.”

It’s hard to think about how much we allow this level of celebrity worship to grow and how much our system is built around keeping the powerful relatively scar-free. It’s hard to think about how much we accept the way this system is built and how unwilling we are to challenge it or understand how when these sorts of crimes actually happen all the time. Bill Cosby’s team (allegedly, of course) systematically crushed and intimidated any woman who attempted to bring his crimes to light. And when one woman finally did bring him to court, it was swept under the rug so quickly and so completely that by the time the media FINALLY decided to give a shit about any of this, it came as a complete shock to everyone in the universe. There have allegations about his behavior since the 80s and yet everyone was acting like someone had discovered that the Dalai Lama eats babies.  The media is part of the problem, obviously, but we have to take responsibility too.

We are all guilty of treating celebrities and public figures like they’re more than human and it needs to stop. We need to stop identifying them as the characters they play or through the songs that they write. Another example that’s been pointed out a few times in some recent articles I've written – not to mention by my lovely friend Kat whom I enjoy having spirited debates with – John Lennon. I am an avid Beatles fan. They’re probably one of my favorite bands – top five for sure. I believe that they have made a huge impact in the music industry. I believe that they’re one of the most influential bands of all time. I believe that every single member of that band was necessary to create the magic that they made (yes, even Ringo). However – and this is a big one guys – John Lennon was a wretched, womanizing wife beater. This isn't opinion. It’s public fact – a fact that Lennon himself admitted to and pretty unapologetically acknowledged. Despite this, most Beatles fan look to him as an icon and a beacon of peace – the sort of human being that we should strive to be.

Personally, I've always been the sort of person who leans towards separating the art from the artist (but I can totally understand one’s inability to do this because art is personal and we put ourselves into our art) – however, even if I believe that I think that separating the art from the artist shouldn't mean saying, “Well yeah maybe he did these terrible things but he made so much meaningful music….” and just letting yourself forget the ugliness. The Beatles’ music – like the Cosby Show – meant a lot to a lot of people and held much social importance during the time in which they were created. Do I think we should throw that away? I don’t, personally. However, I think that we need to take a step back and understand that regardless of the art these people have created, they should not be canonized by us. This is the true issue: can we as a society learn from this and really move forward towards a more realistic attitude towards celebrities?

Thankfully, in the age of social media, it’s harder for the famous to get away with as much and fly under the radar of public scrutiny regarding dark issues that they want ignored. Information is so much easier to find, it’s so much more tangible. And the Twitterverse will rip you to SHREDS. Bill Cosby learned that lesson when his INSANE marketing team came up with the idea of doing a meme contest amid all these rape allegations. And Cosby probably honestly was surprised that it turned out the way it did – with hundreds of “rape”-themed memes popping up everywhere. He had managed for a good four decades to get away with his crimes, flaunting his power and using intimidation to get away with anything he wanted while managing to convince the world to love him. I bet he’s sitting somewhere right now, confused that things have escalated with no sign of calming down. He’s been entitled for too long. This must be very very confusing for him.

At the end of the day, though, who knows what will really change – but my hope is that people don’t simply look at Bill Cosby as a monster and close their eyes to the bigger picture. The celebrity arena is filled with people we look up to and who are capable of terrible things and have done them. But creating a world where we bring these people back down to our levels – as humans – we make it harder for them to continue decades of pathological criminal behavior without punishment. And in the meantime, take to social media and create awareness because sometimes (like now) it’s the only real weapon we have.

Skeletons of the Past: the Power of Memory

So I recently saw a really great little film entitled The Skeleton Twins with a few of my friends. It’s a recently released flick currently showing at DC’s E Street Cinema (one of my favorite movie spots in the city) and it’s starring SNL alums Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader – AND not to mention one of my longest standing fan girl crushes, Luke Wilson. There were many things that I loved about this film. It was loving, heartbreaking, lively, witty, and insightful with shockingly nuanced performances that have resonated within me days after seeing it. But, despite all of this, the part that really touched me was Bill Hader’s Milo.


At first, I thought this was just because of my relationship with my own brother (Wiig and Hader play fraternal twins, hence the title) but after thinking about it a little bit more, I realized there was more to it.

Let me start off by saying I've never been a huuuuge fan of Bill Hader’s. I mean, I've enjoyed him on a fairly superficial level, seeing as his film career consists of mostly second (or sometimes, third) string characters in movies like This is 40, Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian, Tropic Thunder, Pineapple Express, Superbad, Knocked Up… well, you get the point. I enjoyed all of these movies but he’s never a guy that I looked towards for meaningful introspection, know what I mean? While I fully believe that in many cases, comedians make the best type of dramatic actors because there’s a certain degree of humor that you have to be brave enough to tap into when presented with something achingly sad…. I just didn't see that type of potential in Hader.

I am so glad that I was so wrong about him.

Hader’s performance was sad and human and acidic – and yet there was an innocence there, a longing that crushed me a little bit. It took me a day or so to really understand what it was that moved me about his character – aside from the fact that it was black comedy at its finest – and then it hit me all at once: he reminded me of a close friend of mine from my teen years.

I’m going to be somewhat vague about this particular person for reasons that may seem obvious once I’m done so try to bear with me here. When I was younger, I had a friend that I will call Anthony*. As a gal who grew up in a fairly sheltered community and started off at all girl academies, it wasn't until I hit my teen years that I started to really meet the people that would later shape who I would later become (though, let’s be honest, we’re always changing little by little our entire lives). Anthony came into my life when I didn't have a whole lot of friends, when I was obsessed with school, when all I wanted to do with my time was read and write. He was loud and opinionated and told me to get off my ass and live a little. We would sneak out to “adult” parties and try to talk ourselves into bars two or three towns over (we always got into gay bars without a problem as Anthony was young and adorable and I was… well, gay men have kind of always loved me, I’m just gonna say it). He loved to paint and he loved to read my stories and tell me what he honestly thought of them. We’d go shopping for CDs on the weekends and then spend an entire afternoon listening to them in his parents backyard when– and when they weren't home we’d smoke clove cigarettes (yes, I deserve to be judged) and break into his dad’s liquor cabinet. Some nights, usually in the fall, we’d go to a nearby reservoir and we’d talk for hours about how we were going to run off to NYC one day and get shitty jobs and make just enough to support our art and host epic parties that would be the toast of the town. I was always nervous and questioning everything so Anthony seemed fearless to me and it wasn't until much too late that I realized how troubled he was. He’d been through quite a bit of trauma growing up – and really in a lot of cases, when you throw a teenager’s homosexuality into the mix, there’s just a level of fear that the average straight teen may not be able to truly relate to. Anthony didn't have parents that judged him or tried to change who he was. They were kind people that were just very very busy so they just weren't very present in his life. He sort of just…. kept up the bravado for as long as he could until he couldn't anymore. I tried to help him desperately but I was completely in over my head and in the end, Anthony just decided the world was too much for him to handle so he made the choice to leave it.

The last year or so of Anthony’s life was a bad one for me for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is that the good memories started to slip away. He made threats to take his life all the time, a few unsuccessful attempts, he’d disappear for days without telling anyone where he was, he was prone to great levels of despair that would seemingly come out of nowhere, he’d lash against you for strange and unknown reasons. Once, while I was in college in Boston and he was living with some guy in NYC, I had to drive into New York in the middle of night to bail him out of jail – and I had to spend half my rent in order to do it (and thank God for my parents for lending me the money to allow me to do that). I got to a point where I had to just take a step back from him because it was too much… and then one day, he was gone. To this day, a part of me feels like I failed him, like I should have done more for him, like maybe I gave up on him a little and that contributed to what happened. I probably always will feel that way, on some level.

But Anthony was also a beautiful person who could make me laugh and inspired me to push myself creatively and step outside of my comfort zone. I crashed with him in NYC for a few weeks one summer and we slept in the same bed every night (unless one of us had a gentleman caller) and we stayed up all night mocking the white collar world (that I’m kind of a part of now I guess) and we loved each other. It’s hard to think about him most of the time because it’s so easy to focus on those last few months – the dark times – and the end result but watching the Skeleton Twins (AND WE’RE BACK) and seeing Bill Hader’s performance took me back to a place that I hadn't been to in a pretty long time. It was painful, for sure, but also sweet. In the end, all Anthony wanted was love and it was so hard for him to accept that the love that he already had was enough. I think a lot of us have that problem. But boy, I feel lucky that he was in my life at all and that I got to learn and grown from him, for better or worse. Not everybody gets a person like that, who inspires you that way and even if he didn't get the happy ending he deserved, I hope somehow he knows how much he mattered and what a permanent place in my heart he has.

Thanks, Bill Hader. Thanks for reminding me that sometimes you've gotta push through the sadness and live in as many good memories as you can.





*Anthony is not his real name – it feels somewhat invasive to use his real identity for the purposes of this post

Soapboxes and Balances

It’s so hard to write about a complex topic when the weather is gorgeous and your mind wanders and pretty much only wants to take in things like playing with your dog and daydreaming about the cool fall days to come. It’s hard for me to think about things in the world that are upsetting when I’m feeling so good. But I think that actually ties in with some of the things that have been on my mind lately. I think people tend to get wrapped up in their own lives and take for granted the comforts that they are afforded. There is always a balancing act between being aware of what’s going on in the world and not letting these things consume you. I’m actually pretty bad at this balance – or at least I have been, historically. I’m either shielding myself from things, retreating into a world of happy hours, weekend outings, Netflix and comic books, or I’m living on a pedestal and yelling at people to make them see all the horrible things that need fixing. Neither of these things are bad but when it’s all you’re doing, you’re either diminishing the chances for change or the joy there is to be found around you. So what do we do?

Originally, I was going to just post about my thoughts on the quote unquote “War on Women” that’s been taking over our society (well, our media at least because let’s be honest, this stuff is nothing new) but I’d like to shift focus from simply expressing my outrage to having a very thoughtful conversation on why I’m so affected by it rather than why it’s so troubling to our culture.

This all began with a conversation I had with a male friend recently about #gamergate. For those of you unfamiliar with this topic, I recommend looking it up but very simply said it’s “a long-simmering pot of male privilege, misogyny, and slut-shaming in the gamer community boiling over” – as quoted from this nice little beginner’s article on the subject that you can find here: http://www.bustle.com/articles/38742-what-is-gamer-gate-its-misogyny-under-the-banner-of-journalistic-integrity. Now, to be honest, I could go on and on about this topic for quite a long time but I’m really going to try to stay as broad as possible – as not to alienate and/or bore my readers and also because I have other topics to cover. Additionally I want to admit that I’m already inherently biased on this topic because I am turned off by the whole concept of gaming to begin with. That being said, I have a lot of male friends (and I’m sure some female friends, though I can’t actually think of any off hand) who are into the gaming world and who happen to be great people with full lives and open minds so I’m not going to accuse ALL gamers of the following opinion. The thing is, I find that this world is a breeding place for escaping from human intimacy and is dominated by people who are troubled and unable to have basic human relations and use the gaming world as a hideaway while spewing their rage at a world that has been cruel or unfair to them. In some way, this tugs at my heart because I was really lucky growing up. My parents encouraged traveling and pushed me to participate in the world and instilled in me a certain type of bravery about stepping outside of my comfort zone – but not everyone has that. And honestly, some people are not inclined towards that anyway, which isn’t the worst thing in the world…. but when you are closing yourself off to being out there in the world, in a way you are not allowing yourself to be empathetic or compassionate about other walks of life.

Now, when you feel like an outsider and you find a community of other outsiders, it makes sense to gravitate towards that world… and when that world is suddenly invaded by other people – people, it feels in your mind, who caused you to retreat to this world in the first place – it also makes sense that you would lash out. I sort of get it. But where it starts to get sticky is when this “lashing out” is specifically aimed towards a group of people who just want to love the same world that you love. I mean, it’s more complex than that but the irony of creating a world away from the people who have abused you only to turn YOUR world into another version of the world you yourself are trying to escape from – that’s where my empathy disappears. But I guess hate begets hate and so on and so forth. And where does it end? How does it end?

The issues surrounding #gamergate aren’t new. I remember expressing my issues with the sexism inherent in the gaming world ages ago but I think a) the media is latching onto it because of the previously mentioned focus on The War on Women and b) women are finally speaking out more about this sexism more because the media is finally starting to give a shit (or at least they know what their readers want to see).

I’m going to jump tracks now. I’m not even going to bother posting the link here because I don’t think anyone reading this hasn’t seen it by now – and if you haven’t, a quick Google search will pull it up right away – but… the speech Emma Watson gave before the U.N. recently. Before continuing, I want to state that I think that it was quite brave for her to go in front of so many people – really, in front of the world – and to express her passion for women’s rights through the HeforShe campaign. I’ve felt for a long time that feminism, in its most recent form, just doesn’t work and needs some serious rebranding – and I think that maybe this is a step in the right direction. There are many reason why I feel this way but one of the biggest problems I have with it (and the very name of the campaign, after further thought truly says it) – it feels less focused on gender equality and more focused on a) drilling the definition of feminism to the general public and b) making sure we understand just how victimized women have been and continue to be. I know some people feel put off by my opinion – and that’s fine, I’m not trying to defend my opinion or make others feel the same way that I do – but the way that modern feminists represent themselves is polarizing. I’m not saying that I believe in the supposed man-hating that they’re accused of – that’s just pure fucking ignorance – but I do think that sexism is very real for so many groups and the feminist world doesn’t feel very welcoming. It’s just a perception of course and at a certain point, if you want to gain any steam for your cause, you need to stop screaming at people about what the “truth” of feminism is and find ways to be more inclusive. Also, there are a lot of feminist ideals I can get behind, obviously. But I don't identify myself as a feminist…. and yet, every time I have ever had a conversation about how I don’t identify myself as one to a feminist, the conversation always goes the same way: a long lecture on the history of the movement and how if I’m not part of the solution then I’m part of the problem. I’m absolutely not saying that every feminist has this stance – I want to be crystal clear on that – but I’m also not talking about one or two examples here. Or even three or four. And that, my friends, is a real problem. No, I don’t identify myself as a feminist but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about gender equality and it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to do my part to help us all move forward. There is a sort of defensiveness to this. Instead of just accepting a person’s belief system or limitations in how far they are willing to commit to a movement and finding ways to educate them in the ways that they could help in some aspects of the movement, concentrating on feverishly defending the movement as a whole seems counterproductive.

At the end of the day, a person cannot take in every single cause that they come across. That goes back to my original thought – having a balance when it comes to living your life and caring about the world around you. There are many issues I feel passionate about – being active in our communities, AIDS awareness, and artistic rights are paramount to me but I can’t force others to care about these issues the way that I do. Providing them with ways to help is the best thing we can do – creating tangible ways to be part of the solution. And in my experience, limited though it may be, this isn’t how my interactions with feminists have been.

But really, the fact that these conversations are happening at all is great – because that’s where it starts. It can’t stop with a cursory critique, either. I would be just as bad if all I had to say was, “Feminism isn’t working,” and just stopped caring. What’s that solving? All I can do is just continue to educate myself and continue the conversation as much as I can, right? And discover ways to be active. More balance.

So anyway, when I first came up with the idea of this post, I was angry and ready for fire and brimstone – and then an amazing thing happened…. I took a step back and realized that I have the habit of losing myself a little bit in my passions and so this brings me back to my original thought: what does it all mean? I am all for doing my part to improve the world in whatever small way I can but at what cost? This isn’t taking away from the importance of the issues mentioned above or the many other issues that exist that need our attention but, as a society, can we take a moment and realize that the whole point of any of this – of all of it – is to create a world of peace and prosperity. No matter what your political or philosophical stance is, I would hope that most people at least want that (keeping in mind that peace and prosperity mean different things to different people). And if we’re always angry and always shaking our fits and calling our leaders idiots and criticizing movements we may not full understand or wallowing in everything that is going wrong or could go wrong…. when do we have time to accept the good that is already surrounding us? I’m rambling, I do that, but I guess I’m wondering if anyone has figured this all out and if they can give me any clues. I want to care but I don’t want to despair and I don’t know how to separate the two things.

There are so many issues that we need to take on full force. So many things that really break my heart or fill me with rage aimed towards injustice but where can I find peace?

Just some musings I’ve been having. Thoughts, my readers, my friends? I’d love to hear them!

A Brief Note on Joy

I have a glass of wine next to me and I’m listening to the vinyl of West Side Story (given to me for my most recent birthday but a good friend). Also, I only got a couple hours of sleep last night and I’m forcing myself to stay awake for at least the next hour so I that I don’t wake up randomly at like 3 am. I’m putting all that out there before continuing so you understand that I might be feeling a bit punchy at the moment.

With the season changing and the air cooling and an impending trip to Italy on the horizon, I have a lot to look forward to. Sweater weather, day trips to pumpkin patches, the holiday season, visiting friends, and disconnecting over Christmas with my family! I know that this holiday season will be difficult, for sure – I miss my father deeply and I cannot imagine what the season will be like without him – but there is also a feeling of peace that I haven’t had for years. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas over the last couple of years has had a certain weight to it, a pressure like, “Is this Dad’s last one? We have to make it AMAZING!” Nothing ever felt like it was enough and with his health getting progressively worse and with alarming speed towards the end, there was always a darkness hanging over us. But the great thing is we’re no longer presented with so much physical suffering and, as for the loss, I have a crazy huge support system to help me through it. I know it’ll be hard but my father LOVED the holidays, to a near obnoxious level (just so you know where I get it from), and was OBSESSED with making sure his kids always had better ones than the when he was growing up. It would be a dishonor to his memory to let it pass without a degree of excitement that he would be proud of.

And with the turn of a new season, I have created a new playlist to fit my calmer state of mind and the slight chill entering the air. Lots of Miles Davis and Ben Harper and Wilco and Nina Simone and Simon & Garfunkel. Nat King Cole. Louis & Ella. Neko Case. Music is always the best way to compliment my psyche and keep it on the right track.

Also, this is the one and only time of year that makes me momentarily forget my West Coast pangs because the weather doesn't get better than this, right? It does make me miss my years in Boston a little, though.

In general, I’m pretty happy. Embracing the joy. Loving my current path. Moving in the right direction. Yay for proper footing and positive outlooks! Hugs all around. Kumbaya and all that shit.