The Birth of ... Federline?

So, I'm looking through the paper the other day. I was sitting there having my coffee and when I saw a certain something, I nearly spewed it across the table, I was so amazed.

Apparently, some artist somewhere in the U.S. (I didn't pay that much attention to the details) has made a statue/sculpture of Britney Spears giving birth. There was a picture of it above the article. She's on her hands and knees buck naked on a bearskin rug, gripping the bear's head as she prepares to expel Federline Jr. from her primary orifice. Apparently the baby's head is visible emerging from her other end.

Now, I'm all for supporting artists. I consider me to be one myself. I am certainly against censorship. It's not that I consider this offensive. I mean, Britney Spears nude, squatting down ... it's nothing we haven't seen before.

But I started thinking about the great paintings and sculptures of the Renaissance. The Birth of Venus. The Pieta. The Mona Lisa. Somehow I can't see a sculpture of Britney Spears squatting naked on a rug giving birth to her firstborn qualifies. Or ... maybe that's what scares me. Will some people actually think it is? The line between art and parody and utter ridiculousness is so blurred these days. Anyone can call themselves an artist, if they have enough money and infamy behind their name.

This artist, whatever his name is, says he believes his work is a validation of pro-life, of childbirth and motherhood. Right. It was absolutely hideous. Apparently this guy has the reputation for being sarcastic, he created some other work recently that was a parody of something or other.

And for the record, Ms. Spears did not pose for this great work. We'll give her that much credit.

Hmmm ... a naked, pregnant Britney alongside Christ, Mary Magdalene, and various other great people of history? Not that it would ever happen, but seeing that thing yesterday made me imagine it sitting alongside the great work of the Renaissance.

Like I said, I nearly spewed my coffee all over the place.

Meditating in High Park

This afternoon, like yesterday afternoon, was so beautiful and sunny and warm it was impossible to stay indoors. I went for a long walk, and one of the places I stopped off at was High Park, one of my favourite urban oases.

I've been reading a Deepak Chopra book lately, called "The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success". I love Deepak. From when I first saw him on Oprah many years ago, and then on PBS doing a talk based on his latest book, I have always thought he is an incredibly wise man. When he says things, they sound so simple. So basic.

One of the things he is always encouraging is the practice of meditation. He says it is extremely important to take time each day to completely clear your mind and just sit in silence. This afternoon when I was in High Park, I passed by an incredibly beautiful spot, right at the top of an embankment, completely surrounded by trees, a walking trail about a 100 feet below, and absolutely no one in sight. There were three benches there, all empty. I went to the middle one and sat down, put down my purse beside me, and just looked.

All the trees were leafless, but I noticed they were all gently swaying. When you look at trees, they seem to be just standing there, but as I sat and watched them, I noticed they were constantly moving. They were rocking back and forth in the breeze like a baby's cradle. The really humongous old trees just stood there, but their more spindly branches were moving. A squirrel ran across the leaves, twitching his bushy tail. I heard a plane overhead. I noticed people emerging and disappearing on the trail below, either walking their dogs or just going for a run by themselves. Somewhere in the distance I could hear children playing and cars went by behind me.

I sat there feeling enormously peaceful, but my thoughts kept trying to butt in. Deepak says that when this happens, just push them away, tune them out. So that's what I did. When my mind started chiming in with things like, "Nice, sitting here on this park bench when you're out of a job." I recognized that immediately as my mother's or some Anonymous Authoritarian voice, and told it to get lost. Then I started thinking, "It sure would be nice to be here sharing this with someone. More specifically, a guy. Even more specifically, a really sexy hunky guy who would take me home afterwards and give me the bang of my life." I knew who was talking there. You know her. I told her to calm down too.

We take solitude and beauty (nature's, that is) so much for granted. We only notice it or appreciate it when we have nothing better to do. It's like when we were kids and our teachers took us on field trips to some recreation area. It turned out this was a pretty cool place, we discovered, with all kinds of insects and plants and ponds and wildlife. But the next day, when we were back at school, we forgot about all that and got all preoccupied with t.v. and our friends and a million other things.

How many times have you or I passed by a beautiful park and never even gave it a second glance because we were too busy thinking about what we were going to make for dinner, or what that asshole boss said to us that morning, or the fight we had with our husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend et al? It made me kind of sad sitting there, thinking about that. I felt kind of like I had this wonderful friend who I kept neglecting or not spending time with because I had so many other things to do. Yet it was always there for me, even if I came back to spend some time with it five years later, and it didn't hold any grudges ... it still gave me so much as I sat there. It calmed my soul.

I don't know if I'd be able to meditate every day. In Deepak's book I mentioned above, he suggests you do it for at least 30 minutes in the morning and 30 minutes in the evening. Whenever I hear things like that, I automatically resist them because I hate being told I have to follow a regimen. But I can definitely see the value in taking time to be with yourself in a beautiful place every day ... whether it's in a park, your garden, your living room, whatever.

Silence is good for the soul.

My Built-In Bullshit Detector

You know, for all the bitching I do about my weight ... all the pain and abuse I have endured ... I have to say there is one big advantage to being overweight, as I guess there is with any, for want of a better word, disability or handicap. It really makes it easy to discover who is an asshole.

Through the years, I have encountered people who have made my weight an issue, and others who haven't. I think it's fair to say that more people have made my weight an issue than not, but the ones who haven't made it an issue are precious to me. They are the people I truly consider it a privilege to know.

I have met lovers, employers, friends, acquaintances, who made it clear in one way or another that my weight was not acceptable to them. Whether it was because they personally found it repulsive, or unattractive, or embarrassing ... whatever the reason ... it made me realize that these were people I was lucky to have nothing to do with. If I had been thin when I met them, it would have taken me longer to discover their true nature. I'm sure this personality trait of theirs would have come out eventually, in some other way. They probably would have found something else about me that was unacceptable ... my hair colour, my clothes, whatever. Superficial people always find something, that's for sure.

I'm not denying that it hurt. These people can be very charming and deceptive for a time, and when you find out the truth, it's like a fist in your face. It hurts. But I realized, in the long run, that it was far better to be rid of them than to continue to love them or "enjoy" their company. When a relationship is based on pretense, what is it worth? Absolutely nothing.

I far prefer to try and find and bring people into my life who truly love me for who I am. It sure as hell isn't easy, these days. Kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack, come to think of it. But I'll put my glasses on and rummage through that haystack until I find the people who are worthy of my love and regard.

Let It Grow

I had the greatest horoscope today. It was one of the greatest little nuggets of wisdom I have ever read. Unfortunately I didn't clip it but as far as I can remember, it went like this: Don't plant a seed and sit there and expect to watch it grow. It doesn't happen quickly. Don't get discouraged when you don't see results, these things take time. It was far more eloquent than that, but that was the gist of it. And it is so true.

I can't tell you how many times I have resolved to do something in my life, and then quit because it wasn't happening fast enough. Diets are a great example of this, although I have come to learn that "diets", per se, are a total waste of time and unhealthy to boot. Let's use "lifestyle change" instead. I've resolved to eat healthier and exercise more ... great intentions, and if I stick to a plan, I should see results, right? The problem is, I stick to this regime for a few days, get up one morning and look in the mirror and see no visible change. I automatically think, "Fuck, this isn't working, the hell with it!" and go back to eating stuff that isn't good for me, don't move myself as much as I should, and ... the cycle of self-abuse begins again. I start telling myself that I'm weak, that I'm lazy, etc. etc., when I know that isn't true at all. The fact is, I just haven't had the patience to wait it out and see it happen.

The same principle can apply to anything in life. Looking for a job, for example, which I'm doing now. It's so easy to get discouraged when you send out your resume to God knows how many places, and you get little, if any, response. You figure nobody is reading it, they're just throwing it in the trash, so why even bother? You start feeling worthless, useless. But the same thing applies. If you plant a seed in fertile ground, it'll sprout. If you plant it somewhere else, it might not. But even if it does grow, it takes TIME. It doesn't happen right away.

We have been so conditioned in our society to expect results immediately. Delaying gratification has always been one of the hardest things for me to do, and for most of us. We "need" something so bad, we can't stand to wait for it. Well, we have to learn to stop needing it so much. We need to master the ability to step back and wait for what we want, while still working towards it. I sort of think of it as a caterpillar being encased in a cocoon and then one day, all of a sudden ... voila! A spectacular butterfly emerges. You couldn't see it in there, changing, developing ... but day by day, those tiny, miniscule changes are taking place that contribute to it becoming that amazing, beautiful butterfly.

There is so much negative garbage around us. There is so much out there that challenges our beliefs, that bombards us with self-doubt, that makes us feel inadequate. We need to learn to tune all that garbage out, and listen only to ourselves. I know our own voice is a mere whisper in comparison to the yelling, jeering, screaming we hear from others around us. But there's no doubt that it's the voice we should be listening to.

It's Not All I Am

Yesterday afternoon when I picked my daughter up from school, the doors opened and she came rushing towards me with a distressed look on her face. "Mommy, Sonia said you were fat!" was the first thing she said to me. Sonia is one of her classmates.

Strangely enough, the first reaction I thought I would have (anger) was not the one. The first thing I felt was embarrassment, for her, and then sadness, for me. It brought back memories of my own hellish school days, when a trio of assholes who sat behind me in 7th grade used to get their kicks demeaning me and laughing at me. But only for a second. After all, I'm 41 years old now, that was a long time ago, and I've acquired enough distance and maturity to realize that all that stuff I went through was the same stuff a lot of other kids go through, and the knowledge that kids who do that to other kids have something missing in themselves and in their lives, and that's why they're so aggressive and cruel to other kids. It isn't about being fat, or short, or pimply, or wearing nerdy clothes. Not really. That's just the excuse for the harassment, when it's really about someone outwardly aggressive who really feels powerless, or flawed, or victimized by someone or something, and chooses to relieve those feelings by inflicting their own aggression on someone vulnerable. (I know, it sounds very psychological and complicated and deep.) For example, how many bullies did you know in school who probably went home and got the shit kicked out of them by one of their parents, or older siblings?

Anyway, I'm getting a little off track here. The point is, when my daughter told me that, I felt worse for her than I did for myself. It was strange. Rather than teasing my daughter about something specific about her, this kid chose to tease her or hurt her by telling her her mother was fat. I could see this really bothered my daughter, and that hurt me. Being fat is the ultimate sin. If you're fortunate enough not to be fat yourself, you still don't get off, because if you have a fat parent or sibling or whatever, you're still liable for singling out and teasing.

And I know kids can be cruel, kids are immature, kids are self-centred, etc. The problem is, there are probably just as many adults with the same attitude. It made me wonder how many other mothers out there on the playground waiting to pick up their kids stood around in their little packs and talked about me. "Look, there's Emily's mother. God, she's fat, isn't she? Why doesn't she do something about it?" I can hear their jabbering now.

The most important thing, I think, that people just don't GET, and I don't understand why, is that fat is not all I am. I am so many other things. I'm a writer, an editor, a mom, a woman, a music and movie lover ... and about ten million other things. But people see me standing there in my oversized jeans and my coat and their mind stops right there. I am simply fat. That is all I am, to them.

Where the Hell is My Umbrella?

Have you ever noticed there is no shortage of people out there who seem to live to kill your enthusiasm? Whether they are people in your own family, friends, co-workers, even total strangers, there are so many people out there who want to rain on your parade.

The worst culprits are family and friends. You'd figure that the people who are closest to you should naturally want to build you up, praise your talents, encourage you. In my life, I have found this is the furthest from the truth. That's why I have learned to keep my dearest, most prized aspirations and dreams to myself. I have had the wind knocked out of my sails so many times by naively confiding in one of my parents or siblings an idea I had, which I was really passionate about, only to hear them say something like, "Are you nuts? That would never work." Then I ended up feeling totally depressed, totally helpless, totally lost, wondering why I had ever thought the idea plausible in the first place. People can be really poisonous.

It's not all their fault. My parents, like many of my friends' parents, grew up probably not knowing what dreams even were. They were born in Europe and lived on farms and their education was very rudimentary. They were expected to work at menial jobs all their lives, like their parents before them, and when you're stooped over doing backbreaking work, I guess it's pretty hard to be inspired. Practicality is a mode of survival.

I'm not saying we should all delude ourselves and believe we can have anything and everything we want. But if you really feel in your heart and in your guts that something is viable, whether it's a job, a relationship, an acquisition of some kind ... go for it. Don't listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. And if it doesn't work out or come to fruition, so what? At least you'll know you tried and didn't just automatically smother your inner voice with self-doubt and cynicism.

I have never been able to understand people who accept a shitty situation in life. Even if it's unavoidable for the time being, I don't understand why people just give up and assume that life will never change. Of course it won't, if you don't do something to change it! I have been so miserable at various times in my life, and I have never stopped thinking of a way to change it. But so many people around me don't even try. They just shrug their shoulders and gaze blankly at the t.v. screen. Some people are just born with no fight in them, I guess. I can't think of any other way to explain it.

Room, Meals, Blowjobs, All Inclusive

Hi folks. I've been preoccupied with my job search and my daughter being on March break. But I'm back! :-)

Being unemployed has given me the opportunity to park my ass in front of the box a lot more often, which is definitely not a bonus, considering the total crap that's on daytime t.v. I admit I used to get a kick out of Jerry Springer, but you've seen one you-cheated-on-me-with-a-cross-dresser-and-now-I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass melee, you've seen them all. I was, however, watching a show recently that made me ponder writing a post about it, so here it is.

There was this show about sex vacations. Apparently Costa Rica and the Dominican Republic are real hot spots for sex vacations, have been since the '50s or '60s or something. News to me, but then again, sex is not my first consideration when thinking about a vacation. Anyway, apparently men have been going to these countries for decades in order to partake of the wide assortment of sexual experiences available to them. Due to the poverty in these countries, there is no shortage of young women who willingly volunteer their bodies and favours to entertain "rich" American and European men seeking an erotic vacation.

There are whole resorts that cater to men seeking no-questions-asked, no-holds-barred sex with the woman of their choice. And there are lots to choose from. Russian and Ukrainian women, having heard of the myriad opportunities available to them at these places, travel there and become part of the staff. They lounge around the pools in their bikinis, go on day trips with the men to, for example, slide on ropes through the rainforest (as if they were not paid pussies but actual travelling companions), and service them in the evening when the day is done. A lot of the women fall in love with the men, who may stay at these resorts for a week or so. They fall under the spell of having a "relationship" with the man until it's time for him to pack his bag and leave. Then there are the inevitable tears and heartache and probably promises from the men that they will come back for them or send for them. These women see this kind of job as a great opportunity to bag themselves a rich American man who will take them home to mom and dad and sis and bro and make proper wives out of them.

I had to wonder, watching this show, who was more deluded, the men or the women? You'd figure that the type of man who would jump at the chance for a vacation like this would probably not be the most attractive man on the planet, the kind of guy who would have to pay for sex because he couldn't get any otherwise. But I was surprised to see that the majority of the men were not bad-looking or too nerdy (there were a couple of those, of course). They were just the type, I guess, who just wanted to get their rocks off without having to feel obligated. Yet they ended up "bonding" with the woman of their choice anyway and having an illusion of a relationship with them. Maybe this was the way they assuaged their guilt or justified the fact that they were simply paying to get laid for a week, I don't know. It was quite bizarre.

The women, of course, were pathetic. How could any woman in this day and age actually believe that the way to a man's joint chequing account was through his underwear? I don't care how underprivileged, uneducated, or ignorant you are. Any woman should know, by instinct if nothing else, that that "strategy" is the kiss of death as far as long-term romance is concerned.

Friends

I went out for lunch this afternoon with an old friend of mine. It was great, because we hadn't gone out together and sat across a table from each other in years, and we finally had the chance to catch up with each other. I told her about my life situation right now, and she told me about hers. Both of our lives are far from ideal but we have both always striven for what we want. We have that in common.

Sometimes we women can forget how important it is to have female friends in our lives. I know when I got married and had a child, I thought, What do I need friends for? I have my husband, a baby ... I had all I thought I wanted in life. The key word there is, thought ... I thought I had what I wanted. Like many women, I fell into the trap of thinking that a man was all I needed in life and a man was all I needed to make me whole. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Perhaps it would be true if it had been the right man ... :-) but even then I suspect I would have still been wanting. There are things that other women can give to each other that a man just can't, and likewise, there are things a man can give you that a woman never could. Both of them are valuable, and very different.

Women are emotional beings. That is why we can sit and talk for hours. Men seem to be more action-oriented. Women always complain that men never want to talk about important things. Men always complain that all women want to do is talk and talk and talk a situation to death. I guess that's where the whole Mars/Venus thing comes into play. Sitting down with a girlfriend and just having a good talk can be so uplifting and inspirational.

The way women bond over coffee and cake is the way men bond over beer and football. I think it's very important for people to just share being with people like themselves, with the same insights, same problems. It's a necessary outlet. Since we're different sexes, there are things the other half just can't fathom, and that's why we need time with our friends. We need to vent, and venting is not going to be fulfilling unless the other person understands what the hell we're talking about. I guess it fuels us with the empathy or understanding we need that we aren't getting with the other half, and then when we need a refill, we go back and get it.

Drugs

I went for a walk today and felt more like my old self. I actually did smile, willingly. :-) The reason? I had my Walkman on and "Paranoid" by Black Sabbath was crashing away (pretty fitting, come to think of it). There's nothing like a good heavy metal/rock song to get me feeling good. Punk too. When Johnny Rotten sang, "I wanna be anarchy", I was right there with him, sneering away. That was in my "fuck everything" phase.

But when I was in my teens, it was the rock that did it for me. I can remember endless Friday nights of AC/DC's "Back in Black" playing in my friend's boyfriend's apartment, beer bottles clinking, smoke fogging the air. I was a very enthusiastic pot and hash smoker back then. Not to mention beer drinker. God, we had fun back then. Getting totally smashed and high was the goal, and we'd all brag about it the next day. "Man, I got so fucked up last night ..." That's usually how all my conversations with my friends started.

I don't regret a minute of it. I had a fantastic time and it was a time in my life where I really bonded with my friends and discovered a lot about myself. I think it's very important for everyone to have that kind of hedonistic, overindulgent time in their life (hopefully when they're young enough to get away with it).

I could never understand why the anti-drug people always say that smoking pot leads to heavier drug use. That is such crap. It may lead to experimentation with other drugs, but the abuse of those heavier drugs is totally within the person's control. I did try coke once, and it did nothing for me, and I never felt compelled to try it again. I have to admit I was always curious about what a shot of heroin would feel like, but I'm not a total idiot. I was smart enough to leave it as a curiosity. Knowing my addictive personality ... I don't even want to go there.

It's funny, because now I'm such a teetotaller. I barely ever take a sip of beer anymore, except for the very occasional foray out to a bar with one of my old and still very-wild girlfriends. The last time I went out with her, I kept the cab driver in stitches with my slurring all the way home. And it was also funny because I actually did smoke pot recently, but it was a very short-lived reunion. A guy I was seeing bought pot once in awhile and told me he wanted to get me high. I had told him all the stories about my excesses. So, we were in his apartment and I stood beside him grinning, watching him grind it up and roll it. And then when we smoked it, I started coughing like a neophyte which made us both laugh and before you know it, I barely took three or four tokes and I was high as a kite. "You're economical," he joked, and I had to laugh. I couldn't even finish the whole thing before I told him I'd had enough.

But that old familiar feeling was back ... the euphoria, the grin a mile wide stretching my cheeks, the incredible awareness of everything in my body and my surroundings, and when we lay down on his couch to make out, all the deliciousness of that magnified a hundred times.

I don't want to go back to those overindulgent days in my teens. Frankly, feeling that overstimulated and out of control kind of scares me a little now. But every time I listen to a good, loud, rock and roll song, those memories come back and remind me of how happy I was back then. It's almost as good a feeling as feeling that high. Not quite ... but close enough.

The Futility of Faking It

I went downtown today for my first post-axing job interview. It's for a proofreading position. It's funny, because it's a mere stone's throw away from where I worked for my former company. After the interview, I decided to take a stroll through my old stomping grounds and see if things had changed at all. They hadn't, give or take a few different stores here and there.

A friend told me recently that I really need to let go of the past and move on to my future. I know she's right, but it seems like every chance I get, I race back to the past. Whether it's moving back to my old neighbourhood, visiting a former workplace, repeating bad old habits ... it's compulsive for me. I can't get enough of it, reliving the past. Not that it was ever that great. But it's something I know, something I'm familiar with, something that I know won't surprise me.

When I think of all the changes that have taken place in my life recently, I guess it's not surprising that I feel tempted to revisit my past and attempt to gain some sense of security by seeing familiar places and reliving familiar feelings. You'd figure I should know by now the futility of running away from reality. But hey, I never said I was Superwoman. Even she needs a breather sometimes.

I started thinking this morning, Okay, enough bad thoughts. Think only positive thoughts from now on. I proceeded to list everything in my life that is good, and told myself firmly to think of those things only. It worked for a few minutes, but then the bad started creeping in again. That's definitely the old me. Always ruminating on the negative, discounting the positive.

It is so hard to change who you are. Even when you know that some of your actions are self-sabotaging and counterproductive, it isn't enough. What's the answer? A guy who has been emailing me on one of the dating sites I use keeps saying to me, "smile, keep smiling" ... and I think to myself ... Who the fuck are you kidding, pal? What the hell have I got to smile about right now? I'm sorry, but it just seems idiotic to me to go around smiling when I don't feel the least happy or content. I've never been able to fake feeling happy to myself. To others, sure, I'm the greatest actress in the world, but to myself ... forget it.

I also remember thinking, right after my dad died many years ago, and I was walking around looking at all the people on the street going about their business, running errands, laughing and joking with people beside them ... what is wrong with these people? Don't they know what's just happened? It just seemed incomprehensible to me that life could go on when such an enormous event had happened in my life. But it does. Life goes on, with or without you. It doesn't require your participation to make the earth revolve and traffic to stop and go, but you might as well. It's either you jump in and take part or just waste oxygen.

Where am I going with this? I don't know. I just feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me and I'm sitting on my ass with everyone walking around me, not seeing me. I really, really hate this.

And The Winner Is ...

I never understood why they changed the phrase above to "And the Oscar goes to ..." I mean, c'mon. It's just like the Olympics. If you don't get the gold, you're the loser. It's that simple. And those who don't walk away with the gold statuette tonight are the losers .... in Hollywood's eyes, that is. Those of us who know better realize that the Academy Awards have their own political agendas, and the best in their categories don't necessarily win, or even get nominated, at times. But, for what it's worth, I always tune in. I can't help myself. I love all the red carpet hoopla, I love tuning in to see which actress is the most gorgeously attired, and who looks like hell. I love all the couture name-dropping, the jewels, the banalities swapped with Joan Rivers (she gets harder to stomach each year, but she's a necessary evil because unfortunately she gets first dibs on the creme de la creme and Hollywood's darlings of the moment).

I have to confess I have not seen a lot of films this year. It's been a very scanty year for me film-wise, actually. The only Best Picture nominee I have seen this year was "Brokeback Mountain" (more below). So I can't really comment on who deserves all the accolades, other than to give educated guesses and just go with personal biases.

As I mentioned, I saw "Brokeback". It was good. I went to see it primarily because of the hype (I wish I were immune), but also because I have such a huge crush on Jake Gyllenhaal (the absolute cutest young actor I have ever seen, and also very talented -- Joaquin Phoenix would come in second) and I have seen other films by Ang Lee, the director, and admired his visual style and the scope of his films. I've heard all the gay cowboy jokes and I suppose they were inevitable. But the movie was a very touching love story, plain and simple. Unrequited love. These "macho men" meet each other, live alone together in an isolated environment, intimacy develops, they fall in love, have a sexual liaison, and go their separate ways. They both marry and have families, but they never stop loving each other and occasionally get together for some quality time. Heath Ledger is really the centre of the whole movie and he was amazing. He definitely deserved a nomination. He played the more repressed of the two men, the one who loved this other man but despised himself and was too afraid of how he would be castigated by society if he went on his true path. So his life is always a mere whisper of what it could be. It's a very sad, tragic story. But I don't think either Heath or Jake will win the coveted statuette tonight.

The absolute lock for Best Actor has to be Philip Seymour Hoffman, who, by all accounts (and I don't doubt it), turned in an absolutely transcendent performance playing Truman Capote in "Capote". I've been a fan of Hoffman's for quite some time, since I saw him in Todd Solondz's "Happiness" (rent it, it's awesome!). Unfortunately, I have not seen the film, but I've talked to people who have, and they have all said he is absolutely amazing.

It's too bad David Strathairn got nominated this year in the Actor category because there is no way in hell he will win, and that's too bad. I've always admired him. He's one of the hardest-working, method actors around, quietly, oh so capably doing his job, until he finally got seriously noticed this year. Maybe some other time.

The one totally gratuitous, in my opinion, totally politically motivated nominee this year has to be "Crash". Unfortunately, I did see this movie, I rented it awhile ago. It has to be one of the most overrated films I have ever seen. The only good thing I have to say about it is that Matt Dillon did put in a really good performance playing a racist cop. Other than that, totally cliche, totally hackneyed, in my opinion.

I hope Amy Adams wins Best Supporting Actress for "June Bug". I also rented that recently and her performance blew me away. The film itself wasn't that great (it was okay), but she just totally dominated the movie playing a young pregnant girl in a Southern family, very sweet and naive, who is awestruck by a sophisticated art dealer who comes to visit. She totally inhabited that role and she fully deserves to win. But she won't, because it will go to Rachel Weisz for "The Constant Gardener". I saw this too, and found the movie quite boring, but again, this actress dominated the whole movie and inhabited her role. She was very good, and because she's English and considered a more "serious" actress, she will probably win.

Anyway, enough of my pontifications. Enjoy the festivities and all the grandiosity and pomposity. Here's my list of predictions for the "elite" awards (bolded for who WILL win, italicized for who SHOULD win ... in a case where I have no particular opinion, I'll just do some guessing):

BEST PICTURE
Brokeback Mountain
Capote
Crash
Good Night, And Good Luck
Munich

BEST ACTOR
Philip Seymour Hoffman - Capote
Terrence Howard - Hustle & Flow
Heath Ledger - Brokeback Mountain
Joaquin Phoenix - Walk The Line
David Strathairn - Good Night, And Good Luck

BEST ACTRESS
Judi Dench - Mrs. Henderson Presents
Felicity Huffman - Transamerica
Keira Knightley - Pride and Prejudice
Charlize Theron - North Country
Reese Witherspoon - Walk The Line

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
George Clooney - Syriana
Matt Dillon - Crash
Paul Giamatti - Cinderella Man
Jake Gyllenhaal - Brokeback Mountain
William Hurt - A History of Violence

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Amy Adams - Junebug
Catherine Keener - Capote
Frances McDormand - North Country
Rachel Weisz - The Constant Gardener
Michelle Williams - Brokeback Mountain

BEST DIRECTOR
Ang Lee - Brokeback Mountain
Bennett Miller - Capote
Paul Haggis - Crash
George Clooney - Good Night, And Good Luck
Steven Spielberg - Munich

Weightless

The "real" me, the "invisible" me, the combination of my thoughts, experiences, impressions, is weightless. You can't see her, but she is so much more "me" than my body. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't see her. The person I see in the mirror is not the person I see in my mind's eye when I think of myself.

Sometimes she is ... there are times I feel very pretty and sexy and look at myself in the mirror and I feel that she has materialized, and I feel "unified" and happy. But more often than not, I am disappointed and irritated. I feel outwitted by my own body.

They say that our outward appearances are a reflection of our inner selves. I say "bullshit" to that. No way is my outer appearance a reflection of my inner self. It might be the result of past experiences, past hurts, past traumas, but it is definitely not a reflection of my basic, inner self.

The real me is funny, vulgar, cultured, deeply intelligent, kind, innocent, generous, vulnerable, sexy, erotic, sensual, irresistible. She can also be vengeful, immature, selfish, but only out of a reaction to someone's mistreatment of her.

I remember going to a palm reader once and he looked at my palm and told me, among other things, that I was a very loving person. "What do you see?" I asked him. "I see ... an ocean of love," he said.

I just want the inside and the outside to match. I feel like Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, inside, but when I look in the mirror I don't see her. And I wonder why she keeps resisting being there, no matter how hard I try.

Unemployed

Yes, friends ... you read it right. Yours truly is out of a job.

How did it happen, you ask? Very sneakily, and very unexpectedly.

There I was at my desk, after lunch, typing/proofreading away. My bitch supervisor (hereafter referred to in this blog as "B.S." -- I might as well use the legalese I picked up at this place and put it to some good use) came up to my desk and said, "Can I talk to you, please?" in a very normal but somewhat lilting tone of voice. I said, "Sure," thinking, Okay, what's up now, because she never talks to me unless it's to give me shit about something or delegate some kind of shitty project nobody else wants to do. So, I followed her down the hall into another office, and I see B.S.'s supervisor sitting there. I've also picked up on the fact that B.S. was holding a large envelope in her hand, and combined with the sight of B.S.'s superior (hereafter referred to as "B.S.S."), knew it meant trouble. B.S. went and sat behind the desk and I took the empty seat beside B.S.S. Hoping to forestall the inevitable, I turned to B.S.S. and smiled sweetly, said hi. A guilty look immediately crossed her face and she said "Hi," but I knew the way she said it meant my goose was cooked.

Right away, B.S. got down to brass tacks, as usual. "Okay, I'm here to tell you your position has been phased out, your services are no longer required by the Company." She pushed the big envelope towards me. "There's a severance package in here, take it with you and read it over when you get home. If you have any questions, call S.H." (the human resources manager at our company).

I just sat there frozen, thinking, Holy fucken goddam motherfucking hell. Could this have happened at a worse time in my life? I just moved a month ago, just recently became a single mother, finances are already touch and go as it is ... I just stared at her for a second then looked over at B.S.S. as if to say, Did I really just hear that? She looked back at me for a second then lowered her eyes. The three of us sat in total silence for several seconds. "So, I have to leave right now?" I asked B.S. "Unforunately, yes," she said. Unfortunate, my ass. That bitch has been wanting to get rid of me for years, and she finally got her chance. I sat silently for another few seconds realizing this, just speechless, then took the envelope, got up, opened the door and left, without saying another word.

I knew I wasn't going to be at this company for life. I certainly knew I wasn't going to be there long enough to get the Gold Watch. I wasn't expecting to get the Gold Kick in the Ass, though.

I got back to my desk in enough time to inform my colleague and friend across the aisle (I scared the shit out of her because she was listening to her Walkman and staring at the computer screen), "I've just been terminated." Her mouth dropped wide open and her eyes flew open. I just nodded, went back to my desk, and B.S. was there. "Can I have your security pass, please?" I reached into my coat pocket, gave it to her, and got the key for the filing cabinet beside my desk where I kept a few personal notebooks and other items. "We prefer that you only take what's on top of your desk, the rest of your stuff we'll pack up for you and we'll get it to you." I felt like punching her in the fucking face when she said that. They don't even want to allow you the dignity of packing up your own stuff. "I'm not letting people go through my personal stuff," I told her, and proceeded to get what I needed. She didn't answer, just strode a few paces away while I got my stuff. The legal judgment I had been working on was still lit up in green letters on my computer screen. Who's going to finish it? I thought to myself. I looked at the stack of work sitting in my In tray. Who was going to do that? I wondered.

I guess I went numb because I started to leave. "Your pictures," she said, as I started away. I have a couple of pictures of my daughter on my desk and I hurriedly scooped them up and put them in my purse.

"See ya," I said, to my colleague across the aisle. B.S. wouldn't even allow me the time to go around and say goodbye to people I have worked with for five years. "Bye," my friend said softly. It wasn't until I got home later that I saw a note from her in my purse saying, "Phone me later!"

When I got to my car, I opened the envelope and looked at the termination letter and the amount of the severance pay they are giving me for totally destroying my personal sense of well-being, pride, and totally disrupting my life. Needless to say, it ain't much, considering. I used to travel for an hour and a half on the bus EACH WAY every day, when I didn't have a driver's license or drive a car, in sub-zero weather, to get to this place and put in my hours. I spent God knows how many hours of my life doing unbelievably boring, stifling, mind-deadening work. I put up with years of B.S.'s incomprehensible dislike for me and resulting condescension, high-handedness, rudeness, and indifference, because I needed the job. For what?

In the end, to be discarded like a piece of garbage.

It's been a couple of days and I'm getting back to normal. My sense of humour and refusal to be beaten down by anybody has kicked in and I know I will survive. I'll find something else ... don't know how long it will take. Hopefully not too long.

I told my mother the other day, "You know what I've learned so far in this life? You might as well not be nice. You might as well be a jerk, because people treat you like shit anyway, no matter what you do. Why bother?"

She didn't say anything, because I know what she was thinking: "She's right."