Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

The Transitioning of a Mindset

We are born.  We die.  And in between, with the years we are given, we try.

We try to learn.  We try to explore.  We try to work, to play, to figure out just what our purpose may be.

For the majority of people, they enter this world wearing the proper skin.  The "size" fits the being inside.  Not too big, not too small, just right.  The features reflect the feeling inside.  The soul rests comfortably within the fleshy cocoon the world sees.  They get on with the business of living, not giving a thought to the peace that comes so easily, the contentment they are not even aware they enjoy.

But for some, the business of living is overshadowed from a very early age.  Their "skin" is ill fitting; it chafes against their soul.  How did this happen?  Why does my skin feel loose?  Tight?  Wrong?  Why do I look in the mirror and see an outside that is as mismatched to my inside as are stripes when worn with plaids?

Last night the world got a lesson in this very topic.  It was heart wrenching, heartbreaking, eye opening, tear inducing.  

Bruce Jenner, who my generation knew first as an Olympic god, the stuff of Wheaties execs wet dream$, took a leap of faith and allowed the world to hear his story.  

Bruce Jenner is transgender.

For many, many months tabloids have done what they do - mock, conjecture, and demean - stalking him as his appearance began to change.  Desperate to get the scoop, snap the picture of even a fingernail polish sighting, he was been hounded relentlessly.  Whispers of transitioning gave way to headlines shouting the salacious, ignoring the human being.  

It has been shameful, but then that is what this society has turned in to.  A cabal of slobbering misfits who believe they have a right to know, right now, everything.

Now, had it not been for his turn on the televised bag of air known as Keeping Up With The Kardashians, Bruce could have moved forward with his transition quietly, kept it a family confidence as much as possible.  But part of the deal with the Kardashian fame devil is that his once quiet withdrawal to civilian life as an aging post Olympian, placed him back in the spotlights.

And while Mother Kris, Kim K, and her siblings may draw their very life force from being constantly spoken about, Tweeted on, and photographed, Bruce never seemed to fit in their fame suck world.  

But then, as he told the world last night, truly fitting has been a struggle his entire life. 

Yes, like most transgender individuals, Bruce has known from very early on that who he is inside was not matched by the "skin" reflected in the mirror.

Watching his interview with Diane Sawyer, I saw a person - almost caterpillar-like, literally changing into a butterfly before my eyes.  With each word that came out, each expression of his feelings, his struggles, his knowing but being suffocated by fear for so very long, I could see what I wish all people could see:  A human being.  Fragile, frightened, but desperate to finally live his essential truth.  To be who he has always known he has been.

Her.

That is not "mental illness."  It is not "sick" and he is not a "freak" as I have seen so many deride him on comment boards.

Bruce simply exists on the very real spectrum where we all reside.  He simply resides at a less occupied spot.   The spectrum includes straight, gay, lesbian, trans, bi, pan, non-binary, and so many more labels - if we must use labels.

Being in a majority spot on the spectrum doesn't make you better, more relevant, more deserving of respect, dignity, acceptance.  It just means your skin happened to fit you when you were born.  How lucky for your accident of birth.

I am completely sickened by those who proudly trumpet their ignorance, foment their hatred, and hide behind their "straight privilege."

Yes, straight privilege.  If you happened to be born as a heterosexual, you have zero idea how easily you stride through life.  Because you have always been able to easily stride through life.

Falling anywhere else on the spectrum sets you up for a life of fear, suspicion, held breaths, an increased risk of suicide.

It is that last one that is not the fault of the individual, but the fault of a society that needs to grow the fuck up.  A society which marginalizes, demeans, bullies, beats, and even kills those who are different.

My stomach turns to think of the children and teens trapped in households where parents care more about biblical brainwashing than true love.  Where their every waking moment is the stuff of nightmares.  Existing in an atmosphere where they must hide who they are, lie, deflect, and where they slowly die inside, unable to trust the very people they should be able to trust the most.

Then there are the ones who can contain it no more, and take a leap of faith, telling their parents they are gay, bi, trans, pan, et al.  So many find themselves homeless, abandoned, kicked out, disowned.  Bible verses and slurs thrown in their faces.  Condemnation swift, hateful, and hot.

The suicide attempt rate for young trans individuals who have been ostracized, bullied, abused at school is 78%.

Let that number sink in.  78%.

To those who still want to hide ignorantly behind comments like "it's a choice"?  Really?  How stupid are you?  Would YOU CHOOSE to be something with a suicide attempt rate of 78%?

Outside of school/schoolaged, the suicide attempt rate for trans individuals is over 40%.

To call it unacceptable is an understatement.  Being who you are should not be a death sentence.  Killing one's self should not be the better option to living with society's backass notions and behaviors.

Look, as a parent, I bought in when they were born.  Better, worse, good, bad, however the flowers blossomed, as it were.  My love has never been conditioned upon meeting some bullshit societal expectations and prejudices.  My list of requirements for my three daughters is simple:

HAPPY and ALIVE.

That's it.  

My job as their parent is to insure their success rate at both objectives.  My contribution is unwavering love, security, unquestionable devotion, and the bone deep understanding that I LOVE THE PEOPLE THEY ARE.

Where anyone gets the ass to run down those who are born different than themselves, I have no idea.  The balls it takes to tell someone else who they are is staggering.  You don't have to understand.  That is not required.  Wallow in your stupidity, refuse to expand your education about life around you, or continue to hide behind your religion's dictates.  That's fine.  But what you don't get to do is insert yourself into someone else's life and deny them who they know they are.

That mindset is a certitude born of mob mentality, group think, safety in numbers, and majority rules. 

And it doesn't work.  It hurts people.  For no other reason than that they don't fit into some preconceived mold.  And as we see constantly, differences scare the bejeezus out of small minded people.

Bruce Jenner will continue to transition.  And I hope he will continue to advocate for those who are not insulated by money and fame.  I wish him, as he becomes the her she has always been, peace, love, acceptance, and the ability to finally breathe fully and freely in this life.

Last night was the beginning of a societal conversation.  Not just about Bruce, but about every Bruce in this world.

Let's hope that the dialogue continues and as Bruce continues his transition, society finally starts theirs.

Mean Hurls

We all know them.  We have all had them cross our paths, been their victims.  They poison the air around them, make high school a nightmare for many, and never seem to get the comeuppance they truly deserve.  Unless in a movie.

Mean girls.

Hair flipping, better-than-thou - they cut with their words, give withering glances as they pass, and count on the crowds of lesser thans to part as they cruise through.

We know they are full of shit.  We despise them and their french tip manicure and endless pairs of new shoes.  We fantasize about them getting taken down a notch.  And then...

We do nothing.

We wait it out.  We suffer.  We hope for the day they turn their Ray Bans in another direction.  We wish them warts, split ends, flat tires, a pimple on the end of their perfectly upturned noses.

Then we graduate.  We go on to college or out into the real world, and while they are still floating around, their effect is lessened by, if nothing else, the sheer volume of "lesser thans."  It is hard to rule the school when the school has 50,000 students who don't live and die by the outfit you wear.

But they are still there among us.  Manifesting as the badly behaved, boorish, demanding, glance witherers we encounter as customers, passengers, coworkers.

I give you Exhibit A(sshat) - Britt McHenry, an ESPN correspondent, who thinks her shit doesn't stink.  While paying to retrieve her car which had been towed, she decided that a verbal beatdown of the employee assisting her was in order.  Why?

Because, silly, the sun obviously rises and falls on her dyed golden locks.  This, and her job on TV, give her license to not only berate the woman, but insult, mock, and degrade her.  But see for yourself.  After all, Britt knew she was being recorded and kept up her rant, so she must be proud of herself.

 Precious angel, isn't she?

Let's just take her verbal gems one at a time, shall we?

“I’m in the news, sweetheart.”

Pssst, Britt!  I keep up with the news, and yes, even sports, and I have never heard of you. 

“I will fucking sue this place.”

For what, Princess Piss?  For you being such an idiot that you parked in a tow away zone?  Yeah, good luck with your "My-stupidity-is-your-fault" defense.

 “That’s why I have a degree and you don’t.”

Not everyone wants to, or can afford to, go to college.  STFU.  And having a degree does not a decent human being make.   Look around.

“I wouldn’t work in a scumbag place like this.”

Of course you wouldn't, Britt.  That would involve, you know, actually WORKING.  Sorry, but I'm sure many could argue that all you are is a token blonde in a tight dress on what is still a boys' club network. 

“Makes my skin crawl even being here.”

Then learn to read and don't park your car where it will be towed.

“Yep, that’s all you care about is just taking people’s money. With no education, no skill set, just wanted to clarify that.”

That's her J-O-B, Britt.  Taking the money, and enduring the attitude, from walking pus bags like you who have their car impounded.

“Do you feel good about your job?

She HAS a job.  With it she supports herself, and potentially other people.  She may not like it, enjoy it, or plan on being in it forever, but she is DOING it.

“So I can be a college dropout and do the same thing?”

Again with the college thing.  Sweetheart, do you know how many people are NOT dropouts, but fully degreed in much more demanding programs than you who don't have jobs?

“Why? Because I have a brain? And you don’t?”

Ahhhh, the irony.  Sorry, Scarecrow, but you were flat out told you were being recorded, yet still went on your little temper tantrum.  The lady kept her calm.  I'd say that's a pretty clear indicator of who has a brain.

“Maybe if I was missing some teeth they would hire me, huh?  Cause they [the employee’s teeth] look so stunning … ‘Cause I’m on television and you’re in a fucking trailer, honey.”

Annnnnd, there it is.  The classic mean girl move - make it personal.  Find a flaw and attack.  Listen up, Regina George, not every person is born with perfect pearly whites.  Not every person has parents who could afford braces.  Not every person can afford dental care as an adult.  Not every person can afford a full set of veneers like you.  And putting someone down over it is petty, gross, and ugly.

As for her being in a "fucking trailer"?  Wicked Witch, I can only hope one falls on your head one day.  That happens to be where she works, Cinderella.  It doesn't make her less of a person than you, in fact, it makes her more of one.  And finally...

“Lose some weight, baby girl.”

Fat shaming a total stranger.  Can't get much more Mean Girl than that.  That parting salvo is the cherry on the shit parfait that is Britt McHenry's personality.  Uncalled for, demeaning, cruel.

ESPN, weakly responding to the public outing of their golden girl, has suspended her for 1 week.

And of course, like any person with a public persona who gets outed being an asshole, she came forth on her Twitter with an equally weak oopsology:

In an intense and stressful moment, I allowed my emotions to get the best of me and said some insulting and regrettable things. As frustrated as I was, I should always choose to be respectful and take the high road. I am so sorry for my actions and will learn from this mistake.

What will you learn,Britt?  Maybe that you should keep your piehole shut when someone helpfully points out you are being filmed?  Perhaps that you should be more careful where you park?  Or that your act may have worked in high school, but the real world bites back at Mean Girls?

Because I lay money on you not learning what you really need educated in:  humility, humanity, grace.

You may be glossy on the outside, but your inside makes you ugly all day.  And there is no spray tan, wax job, Zoom whitening, or hair dye that will change that.

Suffer The Little Children

The story has been making the rounds, as a story does when the details are so heinous and the outcome so unthinkable.

It is also making the rounds because, as I always write, the good people do outnumber the bad people.

In California, a three year old girl was sodomized by a 20 year old man.

Let's just take that piece of information first, shall we?

THREE YEARS OLD.

For those of you who have never changed a toddler girl's diaper, let me assure you - they are not equipped to handle the genitals of a full grown man.  Not even close.  Not even remotely.

There would be tearing, internal trauma, massive pain - not to mention the absolute physical shock, confusion, and terror involved.

Now, let's move on.  The man - sorry, I keep using that word.  This is not a man.  A MAN would not violate a child.  A MAN would not even entertain the thought.  No, Kevin Jonas Rojano is a sack of shit with eyes.  SOSWE, for short.

This SOSWE was caught, arrested, and then convicted back on December 3rd.

Great, right?  Justice served?  Not quite.

Just a brief rundown on the particulars of the day it happened.  The toddler, related to SOSWE, wandered next door into the garage of his home where he was playing video games.  They live next door and are related, common sense would say she had no reason to be afraid as this was not a stranger to her.

SOS then locked the door, dropped his pants and began assaulting the child, covering her mouth to muffle the sound of her screams.  He stopped when the child's mother attempted to get into the garage looking for her daughter.  Realizing it was locked, she continued on in her search.

Poor SOS was in such a state that he withdrew from the girl and had her fondle him.  He then redressed her, unlocked the garage, and the mother returned to find her.  She took the child, but within minutes knew something was terribly wrong as the little girl complained of the pain.

Ya think?

Fast forward to the sentencing phase of his trial and conviction.

To the normal, decent human being who find pedophiles to be abhorrent, dangerous, and unforgivable, the mandatory minimum sentence of 25 years is still too few.  Anyone who would look upon a child with lust, and then follow through?  Sorry, but there is no punishment big enough.

But, if 25 is at least what the law allows and requires?  OK.  Take heart in him being caught, convicted, and put away.

Oh, but wait, it gets better - in a morbid-gets-way-worse way.

The judge in this case, M.Marc Kelly, a fellow SOSWE decided to trim 15 years off that 25 because 25 years would be "cruel and unusual" punishment.

But, I'll just let Judge FOP & SOSWE speak for himself.  Here was his decision making:

“In looking at the facts of Mr. Rojano's case, the manner in which this offense was committed is not typical of a predatory, violent brutal sodomy of a child case.  Mr. Rojano did not seek out or stalk (the victim). He was playing video games and she wandered into the garage. He inexplicably became sexually aroused but did not appear to consciously intend to harm (the victim) when he sexually assaulted her.”

The defendant “almost immediately” stopped and “realized the wrongfulness of his act.”

“Although serious and despicable, this does not compare to a situation where a pedophilic child predator preys on an innocent child.  There was no violence or callous disregard for (the victim's) well-being.”

I see.  So, since he did not seek her out, it's the child's fault for wandering in and, in that way only a slutty three year old can do, inexplicably arousing Rojano thus distracting him from another round of Grand Theft Auto or Donkey Kong?

Judge Kelly - I don't care if he were watching hardcore porn and had his slicked up dick in his hand when she wandered in.  HE MADE THE DELIBERATE DECISION TO RAPE A CHILD. 

As for not "consciously" intending to harm her?  What in the bloody hell did he think her cries of pain stemmed from?  And again, not to belabor the point, but HIS DICK - no matter how small (and I'd hazard a guess at the size...), was still too big for a three year old toddler!!!

So, he "almost stopped"?  Yes, when he feared being caught by the mother trying to gain entry.  And as for realizing the "wrongfulness of his act"?  Um, he didn't stop.  He made the child then fondle him.

But we're supposed to soft heart this for him because he is a victim and pulled out to finish?

If ever the words WHAT THE FUCK? were apropos, this is the time.

Kelly went on, further layering on the boo-hoo for Rojano:

“Mr. Rojano was born into and raised in a dysfunctional familiar environment."

DO NOT CARE.  TWENTY YEARS OLD.  RIGHT FROM WRONG.

Hiding behind a doctor's report, he verbally hugged the pedophile as he lamented how he suffered “a great deal of family disruption and abuse, making him an insecure, socially withdrawn, timid, and extremely immature young man with limited self-esteem.”

I see.

So because his family life was less than stellar, and his self esteem was low, we should give him a free pass to rape a toddler?

Someone with low self esteem bend this judge over, please.  Surely, if you whisper into his ear how you didn't get a pony as a child, and could not get a date to prom, he'll completely understand you violently shoving one in his ass.

As I said at the beginning, the story has been gaining steam since he handed down the sentence last Friday.  The sickening crime compounded by even more vomit inducing jurisprudence has outraged every decent person who hears of it.

A Change.org petition quickly gathered support urging District Attorney Tony Rackauckas to appeal the decision.  While Judge Touchy Feely has not made a peep, DA Rackaukas has.

“I plan to appeal it.  We still have to wait for the transcripts (of Friday’s sentencing hearing), but everything about the case indicates it’s clearly an illegal sentence and one that is appealable.  It’s mandatory language in that section (of the law), so that indicates there is no discretion... We disagree with the ruling vehemently and our remedy is to appeal. We expect this will be reversed on appeal.”

Good.  And I hope public pressure stays strong, sending a message to both the DA and the Judge that there are some things that should not be met with a slap on the wrist or reduction in sentence.  Child Rape being at the top of the list.

Rojano is a piece of excrement.  I cut zero slack for his woeful childhood, or self esteem issues.  He is not mentally disabled, and he was in complete control of a situation he created. 

Judge Kelly, quite frankly, deserves to rot alongside him.  When you write off, or even diminish, the suffering, abuse, and horrific violation of the tiniest among us, you are no better than the criminal standing before you.

This child has been raped twice.

Time Is What You DO With It

I turned 49 yesterday.

And it's ok.

I have never been a crisis kind of gal.  Not given to lamenting some arbitrary number.  I did not panic at 30.  40 was just another busy day.  And now here I sit, at the outpost of half a century, and I honestly could not care less.

Life is about transitions, growth, letting go, learning more, and in my opinion, facing forward, moving forward.

I guess that is why I have not had the expected breakdown over the empty nest.  It simply was the next transition.  My daughters growing up and moving on did not rob me of my identity because I have always been very careful to cultivate an identity beyond being a mother.

I have never been broken by my marriage being lived across the miles.  Just another choice and transition.  And for all the times I have been asked the inevitable question, "How do you do it?"   The answer has never changed.  I just do it.

Life, regardless of your current circumstances, is a gift.  If you are breathing, you are living.  How you live is the choice.  Unhappy, bitchy, victimy?  Or positive, hopeful, energized?

None of us get out of this life alive.  There's the only guarantee.

As the years have rolled on, what I have loved the most is that I continue having a desire to learn.  I read voraciously.  Everything.  About politics, religions, world events, regions, conflicts, strife, victories, histories, and people.  What I find by doing this is that it makes it hard to stay in one tiny little mindset.  Replacing preconceived notions with facts is liberating because it not only makes you more well rounded as a person, it makes it harder to be afraid of people not like you.

Because in the end, we ARE so very much alike.  How many other people in this world turned 49 yesterday?  Tens of thousands?  Hundreds of thousands?  We are all connected not just by entering this world on the same date, but by flesh, blood, empathy, longing, fear, joy.  We experience the same things - just in different places, different languages, climates, environments. 

I find, too, that my tolerance for bullshit - which was never very high - has become almost nonexistent.  I don't understand bigotry, the gifting of this disease of certitude from one generation to the next.  I don't look at two women holding hands and think "Eww."  I think "Awww."  How does someone's love life even remotely affect mine? 

The answer is it doesn't.  And I know that.  The even better part is that I don't subscribe to an organized religious mindset, so I don't have some fear of feeling this way.

Watching the fallout in Indiana has been troubling, and hilarious in the hypocrisy being exposed.  Those clinging so violently to their "religious beliefs" cannot even begin to see how very far they are from any "beliefs" extolled by their Jesus or God.  Seeing the pizza parlor's Blaze sponsored GoFundMe top out over $800,000?  Look, a fool and their money - whatever - give to the cause of your choice, but come on.  I'd love to know how many of the people supporting this have ever donated to a food bank, given to charity, or do more than pass the hat on when the hat is passed to them in church.  How many have had multiple marriages, hit their spouses, eat shellfish?  Cafeteria Christianity is just sad.

In this regard, having 49 years behind me gives me hope for what is coming.   I know what it was like when I was a child.  And I see how much progress has been made.  So I know that the momentum is forward, despite so many trying to drag things back.

If I am blessed with more years, it is my hope that more people open their eyes and accept that gay marriage won't mean the world will die out; that two men marrying doesn't threaten their fourth marriage; and that keeping religion out of the governance of a nation is good for everyone.

This is pretty much how I view things these days:

Do I worry about world events?  Absolutely, because I stay up on them.  Ignorance may indeed be bliss, but I would rather understand the complexities, impetuses, and actual threats than sit around making shit up.  Our world is complex and the ones who will keep it moving forward are not the ones who want to blow everything up.

I see so many people, especially women, my age constantly lamenting their bodies, their faces, the changes that inevitably come.  To them my advice is simple:  get up off your asses and move.  Stay involved, engaged, alive.  Not only will your body respond better to the changes, your skin will respond as well.  Choose to treat your body like a garbage can and it will reflect the choice.

Yes, metabolism takes a hit.  Hit back harder.  Have crow's feet?  Look around - we all do. Hate them that much?  Botox is about the cheapest weapon and some clinic or another is always running a special.

Acceptance that you have more clicks on your odometer is key.  But more miles doesn't mean less life.  THAT is a choice. 

I was reading an article yesterday where a woman was droning on and on about her life in her early 40s.  Whining and wining - look, I like a glass of vino as much as anyone, but it is a treat not a medicine.  One thing she bemoaned was "death age."  That when a parent dies there is this sudden fixation that surely we will end the same.

Screw that.  I am lucky enough to have both my parents still with us, but when they do finally succumb I will not sit around bemoaning my imminent death. 

If you have a parent who passed due to a medical condition or a cancer that is likely to be passed down?  Get on it.  Get check-ups, take care of your body, and LIVE. 

Death age is just stupid.  My mother's ghost would kick my ass for every moment I would spend worrying about matching her expiration date.  Your parents being alive is not some barrier to your own mortality.  There is no guarantee your age won't be sooner - car accident, fall, aneurysm - or later.

If you're going to focus on a death age, then get started, I guess.  You are going to die so you may as well get up to speed on wasting the time you have.

Another birthday has come and gone.  The earth didn't shatter, I did not wake up with deeper wrinkles.  In fact, nothing was different yesterday than it was the day before or than it was this morning.

I live in a complex world, my children are all in college, my husband lives states away, and some of my hairs are whitish.  My house is quiet, but my heart is full, excited about my tomorrows, and ready to move towards them to see what they reveal.  If I am lucky, I am only halfway to my expiration date and it took a long time to get here.  But if it is tomorrow, ten years from now, or as soon as I hit post - I am living and loving my NOW.

I turned 49 yesterday.

And it's ok.