You’d be so much prettier if you’d smile more…

Growing up I heard that a lot. “Why are you so sad, mad or grumpy?” was the usual fare served up by well-meaning male adults surrounding me. But, all I really heard was, “You look pretty ugly so do something to change that because I can’t handle it.” Sure, all it would take was a perma-smile to fix any and all emotional hurts inside! Fix that face pronto kid, you’re bringing me down. Why was I tormenting the poor people around me? Wasn’t I raised better than that?

Of course, I was a CHILD, a still developing being without the keen insight and laser sharp wit that I possess today so before anyone thinks, “Gawd, get over yourself, they were just trying to help,” stop to consider how you processed things like this at 10 or 12. Did you totally get adult context? Were you clued into things like hidden meaning and passive-aggressive intent? No? Then sit back down, I’m not done telling my story!

 So, here I am, a young child listening to verbal mortar shell explosions going off all around me. It was a veritable war of dysfunction. “Why are you so stupid?” “If you weren’t so lazy you’d have this done by now.” “You’ll never amount to much so there is no sense in wishing for anything better.” Oh, there are many more examples of like kind but I will refrain because, you know, I’m done with that detailed shit but you still get the gist of this right? If not, better check your heart to see if it’s still warm.

The Long Shadow: Adult Survivors of Child Abuse

Day in, day out, year after year…why are you so this, that, this again and multiple variations of this, that and the other all combined. It messes with a young mind that only wants to hear the pleasant things, the things they heard in story books read at bedtime. Why can’t I be the girl in that book, TV show or movie? That was my kneeling prayer every night. Stop being such a dreamer! I couldn’t afford to believe in dreams, I was told, so I crammed them back into the recesses of my brain and continued hanging on the best I could.

Now, ask yourself this, after hearing just that little vignette about a little girl who was told that all would be better if she just smiled….would you feel like smiling?  The best I could muster was a slight smirk. This eventually labeled me a sarcastic smart-ass but it was better than a nothing, a sad blob doomed to slug through life dragging her sorrows behind her.

Stop Telling Women to Smile!

Why so sad Sally? “First off, my name ain’t Sally and I ain’t sad, I’m pissed!” That became my response and it was the truth. Smile little girl. Oh, you don't like how I look old man? Then don't look at me! Little girls should be happy and giggly and sunshiny all the time? Be happy because the nice man said so? In my world I hated people telling me I needed to change for them but even with all of that negative adult noise going on in my head I still had a handle on the truth. Life wasn’t always fair, people can be the worst and those who seek to tear others down usually stay in their own well of shit until the day they die. No one was going to drag me down with them.

Here’s a funny thing about growing up in a ringside seat at catastrophe’s circus…you really do learn a lot. You learn to read people like a book, you learn to stand back and question everything you hear and everything you see. To all the people that told me to smile because it would make me look prettier; was that for my benefit or your own perverted pleasure? When I did smile in response I didn’t get a, “see now, that’s much better,” or any other reward for doing what you wanted. All I got was the sense that people can’t handle the pain of others so they make shit up in order to stay as uninvolved as possible. Can’t be party to this train wreck! No sir! Look pretty for me instead.

Everybody hurts….yes, the REM song was correct about this but, everyone also has the power to rise above the pain to show those sanctimonious assholes who the pretty girl really is. I can say, with great certainty and confidence that the pretty girl isn’t the one who smiles on demand like a trained monkey, she’s the one that tells you to go fuck yourself because she’ll damn well do it if and when she so desires! Power is pretty and beauty rises up from within a soul that contains the strength to throw off the shackles of propriety, expectation and demand. No one can demand I do anything these days and if I’m labeled a grouchy old bitch then the onus of that decision is on the labeler not me. I am who I am and I smile not for you but for me! Got that?

Signing out,

Pretty Reverie

Truthiness in the bigly bad, so bad, trust me, really bad, alternative world

Bullshit abounds. Everywhere we turn reality and sanity as we know or knew it is being tested, retested, skewered and twisted to fit some shystery agenda.  And, exactly whose agenda is clouded in the stench of political favoritism, hatred of differing views and, apparently, the selfish motives of the self-aggrandizing, self-promoting and self-enriching crowd. It’s every human for themselves so work that brain. Study up on history, science, the constitution and psychology or any other Ology that protects us from the gas lighting crew currently in charge.

In this new, frustrating alternative world, speaking out results in getting shouted down so my advice is to counter vitriol with education when ignoring utter nonsense doesn’t work. Knowledge truly is power and using Google doesn’t count. Read a damn book! Go to a library and hold knowledge in your hands and devour the words, concepts and theories like the best damn (or beautiful) chocolate cake you have ever eaten. Like EVER! Soak that knowledge up like a sponge and then put it to use recharging and insulating your brain from the damaging effects of misinformation, myth and maddening deflection. Protect your ideals, your dreams and your life goals because if we don’t do this then they can and will be taken away.
 
The new Kingdom of Righteous Authority seems to have its own goals too and the desire to turn our ability to distinguish right from wrong, fact from fiction and truth from lie on its ear is actually working on a portion of society. Ask yourself, “Does this sit well with me?” and, “Can I look myself in the eye and be okay with accepting anything less than the truth?” If the answer to either is “no” then scholar…educate thyself to protect thyself. If the answer is yes to these questions then I guess we are done here and you are free to move on. I cannot be of service to you, go in peace.

To lie or not to lie, that is the conundrum. Or problem. Or concern. Or frustration. Why is it so hard to believe people anymore? And, why do we see more instances of those trying to tell the truth being labeled as liars as a quick means to discredit? Is it because the actual truth is viewed as a liability and seeing how far the moral envelope can be pushed is more tempting or financially lucrative? I have no idea what is really going on for sure but, I do know that my ability to spot fabricated nonsense hasn’t changed despite what some talk show hosts may claim. I say “talk show hosts” or gossip columnists because to call them journalists doesn’t seem to fit since more opinion than verifiable fact gets reported anymore.

Maybe it’s just me but I thought the purpose of journalism was to verify information prior to broadcasting it and then it was up to the listener to decide? Maybe it’s just me but I thought the act of a reporter speaking on assumption without verification was the very definition of laziness in reporting and viewed as a major no-no?  And to be fair, it isn’t just the media, oh no, it’s a bizarre back and forth Ping-Pong match between politicians, the media, the public and, you guessed it, TRUTH is the ball.

Now days, everybody claims to know, or knows someone that claims to know or heard about some website that knows. Or, they saw a message spelled out in miles high chemtrails. “I saw it on the internet so it must be true!” Or, “I heard the President say it so it must be true!” Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying President *Orange Crush is the only Grand High Exalted Pooh-Bah Liar, because he seems to be in good company lately. What I am saying is that lying is now an acceptable cottage industry in not only Washington D.C. but also across the planet. Don’t like something about someone? Just spread a few fibs about them and BOOM, problem solved, no one takes them seriously anymore.

And, snowflake suddenly becomes an insult. What? Why? Is it because a snowflake melts when in the presence of heat? So does a yummy Popsicle so how about Popsicle? Shut up you Popsicle! No, wait, that is a registered brand, better pick something that has no lawyers eagerly waiting to type up a cease and desist letter.  Oh, Lordy! Even being witty with the insults has become uninspired and lazy. Also, here’s a quick disclaimer to cover a previous comment: *I am not associated in any way with Crush, Dr. Pepper Snapple Group (the manufacturer of Crush) or PepsiCo (the distributor of Crush in the US). Satire folks…look it up before your panties twist too tight.

So, in conclusion, why all the bullshit lately? Because it’s quicker and easier to sling shit than it is to own up to mistakes. Pile crap high enough and after a while the less inquisitive can’t see or smell the truth even when it’s right in front of them. Just tell me what to believe! I’m too busy to educate myself!

Question the questionable. Research the ridiculous. And, most importantly, trust your own instincts. I have said this multiple times before and grew up in a gas lit, “edit the past to fit the desired narrative” childhood so hear me loud and clear when I say, if someone is asking you over and over and over to trust them, DON’T! The truly honest don’t need to proclaim their virtue because they aren’t trying to sell anything, they only want to inform. The truly honest don’t need to assure anyone of their ability to be honest because they live their lives in a way that highlights it without saying a word. That is the beauty of truth, it never needs to be announced when it walks into a room and requires no microphone to be heard. You just know. And…this is big…bigly big…the honest are HUMBLE souls that never demand loyalty or forced, fear-induced praise in order to function. Not complicated, contrary or contrived. Just the plain old truth.

The hidden ugliness within

Just take a quick glance at the comments section on any online article, blog, Facebook post or Twitter feed and the festering sore of trolling and blatant meanness becomes very apparent. People are the worst! And, they can also be the best judging by the number of strangers that come to the defense of those being attacked online. Take that nasty people! But, alas, it doesn’t keep the mean ones from spewing hatefulness or causing emotional pain to those being targeted.

And…what’s the point of posting nasty comments online? What’s the payoff received from hacking away at a stranger’s patience until they blow up and fight back? It’s just that. Mr. and Ms. Smug Jackass  want a response. That’s what they came for and it doesn’t matter how long they have to wait or how many vile things they have to say…getting the job done is goal #1. Isn’t it amazing how determination can be both a good and bad thing?

Why Cyber Trolls Troll

So, you’ve been blasted online by an anonymous troll?  A disgruntled ex? A former friend? Friend of a friend, dysfunctional family member, neighbor or someone you haven’t seen since junior high or…the President on Twitter? What now?

It would be so easy to just let the expletives fly and good manners be damned but the best way I put ugly behavior into perspective is to view the spewer as a damaged human being deserving of pity. Intense pity. Consider them to be like the poor kid in middle school with a bugger hanging out of their nose. Are you the, “Ha! Ha!” or “politely look the other way” sort? Don’t acknowledge their booger and eventually it will fall out on its own…and hopefully they will swallow it! Chant with me. Swallow it! Swallow it!! Swallow it!!! And, if that doesn’t work then consider them to be like a dirt covered, squished piece of discarded chewing gum. Gross to look at and of no redeeming value so you move on by, careful not to get any stuck on the bottom of your shoes. And, in the case of one particular Orange Being, like one of those convenience store hot dogs slowly spinning about on a grease-caked roller grill. They seem pretty tasty when you are drunk but once you sober up and realize what they are made of and how contaminated they may be then regret sets in!

Man, shit stirrers hate to be ignored but, and I have decades worth of experience ignoring people, it does calm a potential firestorm of nastiness if we can just learn to be the one that enlists the, and, we are moving on philosophy that miserable humans hate so much. They want you to look at them, to notice, to get angry…don’t and they WILL go away. Eventually. Oh, sure they will make a few more attempts at crawling under your skin but never fear, the power of ignoring an annoyance should never be underestimated. Give it a try. One way to brush off human rashes is to pretend you didn’t see their comment even though many other readers/followers/friends have acknowledged it. Another is to make your one and only “be gone” proclamation and let that be it. No back and forth with Mr. or Ms. Mental Wreckage because once you engage the door stays open. Close it.

Do I feel bad about being what some may erroneously claim is passive-aggressive? No, because what is passive-aggressive about strategically checking someone out of the room they sneakily tried to inhabit in my head? My head, my rules! They had no invitation to begin with so…buh-bye. The failure to acknowledge someone who has been shitty to you is a right everyone has and no one should be forced to engage with miserable people against their will. I have seen many examples of trolling comment crappers trying to turn the tables on those attempting to defend themselves online by saying, “But, aren’t you being just as intolerant as they were?” Huh? How?

Tips on responding to trolls without having to actually "respond"

Telling someone to get the hell off my cyber lawn or just ignoring them until they go away is intolerant? By that logic it would seem that everyone online is supposed to just fight and fight until it’s all ruined for everyone and the free exchange of ideas and cute stories disappear in deference for vile rhetoric and conspiracy theories. Assholes are not the boss of me! And assholes that try to use some twisted logic to put others in their supposed place really have no power with me. If anything, I get great delight from ignoring them, a kind of psychological, cold-shoulder zeal if you will. Thanks! That felt good!!

I agree that there are times when the turd in the punch bowl can’t be ignored but baiting cyber trolls can be avoided and in order to tolerate something you kind of have to acknowledge its right to exist. If no acknowledgement is received after a while they will slink away because being shitty just for the sake of being shitty receives no gold stars in my world. It’s neither legally nor socially acceptable to walk into someone’s home, uninvited, to take a shit on their kitchen floor. And, giving out uninvited snide, hateful and baiting comments on a personal blog or social media account is the same thing.

Be careful where you shit cyber trolls, sometimes you don’t always cover your tracks and the stench is easy to follow back to the one who dealt it.


© 2016-2017 Laura A. Askew, All Rights Reserved

As a gentle reminder: People who steal the creative property
of others deserve a swift donkey kick in the crotch

Don't steal my stuff!

I wish you well, I wish you peace

A very difficult chapter in my life has come to a close. Actually, it has been more like a sad coming of age tale mixed with a psychological thriller that borrowed more heavily on the psychological torment and less on the “thriller” part. None of it was remotely thrilling. Challenging?  Yes. Frustrating and painful? Double yes.  Everyone has elements of that in their lives right? That’s what I tell myself now because it helps remove the sting a bit and it also releases me from a potential pity party. Others have had it much, much worse so I refuse to bemoan the “what was” parts of my past and now, prefer to address them head-on, embrace and then release them into the wild unknown to be cataloged and filed by whomever or whatever greets us when we depart this world. 

Yes, by depart I do mean that this is about death. And, it’s also about letting go of the living.

Life is most difficult for those who choose to make it so and for a long time I allowed people into my life who both reveled in being difficult and raged passionately against the label at the same time. No one can successfully have it both ways so my biggest struggle was knowing when certain behaviors were personal and which were triggered out of habit or because of some personal childhood trauma of their own. Of course, there were times when it ALL felt very personal to me and little chunks of my identity would crumble away after each run-in and despite knowing better I internalized a lot of negativity and lashed out in return. I regret this very much and feel genuine pain knowing I am stuck with this knowledge.  And, now I will never get an explanation or even a clumsy attempt at an apology. 

Not that I expected one but it is chilling to know that option is absolutely gone in one instance. Final. Done. There will also never be an opportunity to apologize for my part in that particular dramatic life-play, cast with tremendously flawed characters, which had an impressive 20 year run in my head. The other difficult portion of my past...requires no apology from me, ever.  I understand that I'm being vague about who the main characters in these long playing dirges are, aside from myself but, this is purposeful and done in a purely thoughtful manner. It does no good to speak further ill of the dead or the banished and this act of voicing feelings surrounding such a passing/banishment is less about the actual people and more about me, the time I wasted dwelling on them and more about the collateral damage that was left in our respective wakes. That is another chilling realization. It’s also a feeling I never want my loved ones to have after I draw my final breath. Ever.

So, when I say that I wish a former adversary well, I mean that. Once I was out of the relational loop and away from their day-to-day orbit I worked hard to release the anger and the blame. For the most part I succeeded with this, with a few setbacks here and there, but I was able to let the vast majority of the pain go. I also recognized that the reason I could do this was because I no longer had to physically be around them anymore. That helped but it also let me off the hook too easily.

And, when I say I was “let off the hook” I mean I was no longer forced to have a conversation, antagonistic or not, with my foes and therefore I was also no longer forced to dig deep for the honest and raw emotion behind the animosity. Simply put, no more work was being done toward reaching any sort of resolution because I was no longer legally part of one person’s family anymore and, in the case of walking away from certain blood ties, I was also no longer obligated to pretend anymore. The latter was liberating but also initially confusing since those I walked away from had no idea why. In my mind I thought they should KNOW why but the actual words were never spoken out loud. Does it even matter? Most likely not because I can envision the automatic denials so, I concede to acceptance and keep moving forward. I know I will be judged harshly for it but, that's okay. I will weather the storm.

Divorce and/or estrangement is never really final if the issues that led up to making such a decision are not addressed and even though I thoroughly worked out my reasons for divorcing my ex-husband and moved on with a clear conscience I did not have my final say with his family. Is that even a thing on the in-laws front? I was never sure if I even had the right so I let it slide for years. And now, my say will remain unsaid, which is okay because I doubt it would have really shifted any paradigms, but I will always wonder. Could I have changed the final days of a person that taught me, mainly, to always be suspicious of the true intentions and unscrupulous motives of everyone? 

Doubt is a long lasting cancer that eats away at the soul. I want to put an end to the feast. There is no longer a need to feel anger, regret or even shame over either dysfunctional side. That is all done. It’s over. The end has come and now is the time to gather up my coat and make my way to the exit to walk into the light. I am free. The sky is wide open and now my obligation is to live…and I will, arms held high, eyes wide open and heart no longer weighed down. Free!


© 2016-2017 Laura A. Askew, All Rights Reserved

As a gentle reminder: People who steal the creative property
of  others deserve to be kicked in the tingly bits by a pissed off
writer well versed in street fighting.


In plain English: Don't steal my stuff!

The Grand Art of Letting Go...

Or...knowing when to forgive because holding on to anger is killing you.  I like that title better even though it chaps my ass a bit to type it out.

Oh, how the past has a bad habit of reaching up and biting you right in the backside just when you thought it was dealt with and done. It's never done. Especially when new players choose those old familiar game pieces, the ones you used to play, and stir up the old demons.

For those few of you that read my ramblings you will note that I strive to remain vague and uncommitted to who or whom it is I am actually talking about but for this past-life review I will try to be specific. Without specificity there can be no definite conclusion but sometimes...it's just not wise. No tell alls, just trying to tell it, the best way I can.


© 2016-2017 Laura A. Askew, All Rights Reserved

As a gentle reminder: People who steal the creative property
of  others deserve to be kicked in the tingly bits by a pissed off
writer well versed in street fighting.

In plain English: Don't steal my stuff!

A place for everything and…everyone put in their place

There are times when I wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding and anger flared from a random memory that decided to make itself known again to my subconscious. One such memory was of an encounter with a person, who obviously peaked emotionally in high school, trying to put me in my place because I dared to invade her social circle with my lower class, almost food stamp qualifying background. It was a moment I hadn’t thought about in eons, because it was that long ago, but still a moment when I realized that there are some pretty awful people in this world masquerading as fine, upstanding citizens.

I won’t detail what was said because that would give too much attention to a woman who obviously can’t function without attention, good or bad, but let’s just say that it was the equivalent of a small child sticking out their tongue and doing the “Na-Na, Na, Na-Na, Na” thing. In the moment I was taken aback but not totally surprised because she never gave me the impression that she ever accepted me as an equal but rather, viewed me as an object of disdain and mockery for not being a former cheerleader, sorority sister or over-achieving Super Mom whose life revolved around her children’s accomplishments. I was part of the, “Oh, you’re a working mom” sect and she was fortunate enough to be married to a doctor, which was wonderful but not necessary to point out all the time. “My husband, who is a doctor….” became a suspiciously purposeful reminder of what I was not now nor would I ever be which was rich, popular and accepted. It hurt a little but I somehow managed to survive and move forward in life obviously.

I remember that a few of her mottos were, “public school is for poor people, not us” or “we are involved in ballet, gymnastics, soccer, and tennis simultaneously,” and she never shared anything about herself, anything that would make me empathize with or feel connected to her. All she gave out were newsflashes about how wonderful her kids were followed by passive-aggressive comments on my parenting choices. Thanks, but I never asked you…is what I should have said but I’d usually just turn away in embarrassment or move back into my spot closest to the door, at the ready to bolt. I was the outsider in the bunch so who was I to stand up and tell her off?

Why did it bother me so much? The verdict from the popular crowd was that I was socially awkward and jealous because I grew up poor and didn’t learn how to interact with upper class people and lacked the manners and charm to ever fit in hence the need to be constantly put in my place. But, what was my place? If they knew they never told me directly but judging by the nasty looks, rude remarks and blatant brush offs it must be a pretty awful place. Good Lord! How was I ever allowed to walk the same streets as these amazing social beacons and high yield stock option recipients?

In thinking back, I know now that they aren’t all powerful and experience odoriferous flatulence and fecal evacuation just like anyone else roaming this planet and that it, in fact, does not smell like roses. Looky there!  I made farting and shitting sound pretty classy now didn’t I? Everyone does it, even the ultra-fortunate but somehow, being human and acting human (faulty, emotional, kind-hearted, polite and humble) is something to be shunned like a Louis Vuitton knock-off. Nope, not good enough for us, this human thing is well, too proletariat.  We are Gods! 

At least that is what I used to think these one-dimensional harpies thought about all, gasp, poor people but then I realized that not everyone was like that and I was judging all upper class people based on my interactions with a few, to put it honestly and bluntly, assholes. Money can’t change an asshole into a humanitarian, the asshole traits are still there under the surface waiting to spring forth with the most minimal provocation. But, good people surely don’t lose that inherent trait to be kind to others or to offer a supportive word or gentle hug when it’s needed most just because they find themselves on the abundant receiving end of financial good fortune right? I have met a few over the past few decades so I know more are out there, they have to be!

Make yourselves known because only you can prevent rampant asshole fires…that sounds awful, let me rephrase. Only you, the kind and polite money attracting people of the world can turn the tide in this poor=lazy, unmotivated and therefore unworthy atmosphere. I’m not saying, “Hand over your cash” either so DO NOT be posting any liberal vs conservative blather in the comments section. This is about how I feel not how you feel on the matter because this is MY memory, not yours.

What I am saying is, the more kind and thoughtful interactions people of differing financial backgrounds have the more acceptance those not so financially well-off may feel and acceptance is worth more than gold.  Acceptance helps motivation ignite. Acceptance makes hope possible. It’s so simple yet also so hard for some people to provide. Why? Talk is free. Smiling is free. A respectful handshake and hug are free too just as direct eye contact is. You have no idea how demoralizing it is to have someone look through you or around you but never directly at you.

As for myself, I may not be considered financially rich now but I do okay and feel very grateful for all that I have and the wonderful people I have surrounding me. And while this may have started out as a painful memory of how a horrible woman tried to make me feel bad because of who I am and where I came from its ended up being a story of redemption…for me.  I forgive her for being such a snotty, sarcastic and dismissive person and accept that she must not be a very happy individual. Or, maybe she’s just dandy with how she acts and sees no reason to change. Either way, it’s done, I forgive and no longer have that moment weighing me down.

Sometimes dreams pull you back to the lessons you haven’t completed yet I guess. Lesson #5,006,201,369 down only 5,006,201,368 to go!

© 2016-2017 Laura A. Askew, All Rights Reserved

As a gentle reminder: People who steal the creative property
of  others deserve to be kicked in the tingly bits by a pissed off
writer well versed in street fighting.

In plain English: Don't steal my stuff!

That one time I was almost on the Nate Berkus Show….when he actually had a show.

Whenever I think about this experience I have to squint and move my eyes back and forth like I am concentrating real hard. The kind of hard thinking that smells like toast burning. Curling, white puffs of smoky grey matter twisting around the skull, knocking to get back in kind of hard thinking. It’s rough being the sort that willingly chooses to keep all the bad stuff up front in the window display of their life while keeping the truly interesting bits and pieces back in the storage area. Dammit! Why do we do this?

Anyway, when Nate Berkus first showed his stylish, elf-like face on the grande dame Oprah’s show I was fascinated. I wanted him to release me from the dungeon of “old lady” decorating suggestions (this is a WHOLE OTHER story in itself) and help me find my true style. I wanted a designer middle finger, if you will, that I could display every time said “old lady” tried to tell me how cheap or tacky the things I really loved are. Take that ya old bat! Nate likes it and I like it so go choke on your frilly toile curtains and musty transferware dishes hung just so on the wall. ON THE WALL!  Dishes on the wall scream OLD LADY to me but what do I know? I needed Nate on my side.

Every time he was on I would watch with great intensity, taking notes, honing my decorating style while also learning that my opinions about what I did or didn’t like mattered. I found my voice and my courage to say what I wanted in my house and what I thought was pretentious, trendy bullshit, designed only to lighten the wallet and not my mood. It didn’t always go over well but satisfaction was gained from knowing money can’t buy taste and bullies hate it when their targets grow a backbone. Mine started out as a flimsy balsa wood twig and grew into a mighty reinforced beam of Brazilian walnut. Strong, unyielding and shiny. God, the old lady hated that. Thanks Nate!

Fast forward to 2010 and I’m watching Nate's daytime talk show when I see a little blurb about viewers sending in their stories of overcoming odds to make their dream career come true or something like that. My memory fails me at times but the gist of this was that I sent in an email to the show telling the producers how I always wanted to write but felt held back by the less than supportive people in my life and how I finally ditched them and started writing in earnest. I wasn’t making any money doing it but I still felt free enough to actually let strangers read my scribbling. That was huge for me, a self-conscious, formerly badgered soul that was so unsure of my abilities.

And…I got a call from the show not long after I hit send on that email. I was asked to explain more about my dream, how I wanted to accomplish it and what my road blocks had been. Great, so far I thought, but then came the shit cloud…Bethenny Frankel.

What did I think of her? Did she inspire me to try to make my dream a reality? Uh, no. Honestly, if I had to give credit to anyone for prompting me to get my shit together it would be a 50-50 split between aging and my therapist, Dr. Tarrasch. A reality show “character” doesn’t even make the list but I sensed they wanted me to gush about how much she helped and inspired me because they wanted her as a guest. The true indication of this came when they asked if I would be willing to stand up and ask her how I could “make my goal of writing a reality” from the audience. Good grief and lumpy gravy, NO! But, I said sure! I wanted to be on that damn show!!

Next, I was asked to write a little bit more about my goal and when I first became aware of Madam Frankel as the paragon of business acumen and goal reachiness (my own word but it fits) so I did just that. Maybe too well because I didn’t get any call back and the next thing I know ole Bethenny Big Eyes is on Oprah on the date she was supposed to be on my Nate’s show.

What happened? Did she realize she had no viable advice for me or did Nate’s producers just decide to chuck the segment? Or, and I think this is more likely, that publicity hag tied her line to the mother ship Oprah and cut Nate loose at the last-minute. She got a better offer and ditched the person that brought her to the dance. And THAT is how Bethenny and many other questionable business entrepreneurs succeed. It’s easy to keep your high heels un-scuffed when walking on the backs of others.

Okay, rant over and memory released. That felt great. Do I still like Nate Berkus? Yes, yes I do and I always will. He’s likeable and seems genuine. Did I learn anything from BF? Yes again. I learned that the outcome would have been the same even if I said I didn’t give two shits about her supposed power to influence or motivate because the segment was going to get dumped anyway. Always be honest about who or what really motivates you because, in the end, self-respect tastes much better than an over-priced, watered-down vodka or margarita. Go for the damn bourbon you babies. It’s strong, true and never pretends to be what it is not. Now, get your ass out there and work! That’s my advice