One lesson that I firmly think must be learned, seemingly over and over again, it that no human is better than any other human. No person is better than another. You have to believe that in your heart of hearts, your third eye, down in your bones...all that jazz. But, we don't do that. We believe that other people are better than us...or worse we're better than other people. All the roles we place on ourselves and blame others for. Everyone is a genius at something...a fucking brilliant, fantastic, obsolute, no competition, goddamned genius at something. And if you don't see it, then you aren't looking.
Someone recently asked me how I would feel if someone made fun of me the way that I make fun of other people. I looked this person straight in the eyes, and stated that I already make fun of myself, so there's not much for someone else to say that would "get me", and who really thinks that people don't do this or have done this to me already. I'm not worried about other people.
This brings to mind my relationship with Anna Nicole Smith. I didn't really have a relationship with her, but I secretly admired her. Growing up in a small Texas town, there's not much to do...drink, fuck, fight, get knocked up, go to church...that's about it. And for everyone this week that has made fun of her, speculated about her, etc. ...How fucking brilliant is that? She's dead and still keeps living through our society. She didn't really even have to lift a finger, or her legs and people gave her stuff...she died flying back and forth from the Bahamas. Fucking brilliant. Dead and yet still living...all that gossip. Fucking brilliant.
I was surprised to hear all of the negative stuff that came out of people's mouths. Okay, not really, but, having just heard a recent interview with an aging actress, we sure do live in a nosy society. This older actress was smeared in the papers, the collumns, online, T.V., all for being a drunk and on drugs. She never did either. She has Rheumatoid Arthritis, and for years would be fat, then skinny, then drop out of the scene, then reappear. The commentator asked why she never straightened everyone out about this. She said, everyone would hire a drunk, they would hire someone on drugs, but they wouldn't hire someone who's sick. And also, she didn't care what other people thought...they were just bored and sad, and she was too busy getting well to care or get too annoyed.
So, I guess my point is, we do not know the whole story. And people are vicious.
I was also talking with a friend this week who's reading a book by Frank Sinatra. There's a part were he talks about Marilyn Monroe. He talks about how filthy she was, and basically what a whore she was. That she would leave tampons in for days.
This strikes me as funny. Wasn't Frank part of the Brat Pack? Wasn't his image about women, booze, clubbing, etc.? Do you really think he washed his winky every time? That's a little of the whore calling the whore....
My dog and are are both having our periods this week. My other male dog licks it up for the female dog. I, myself, do not have a man that does this for me. In fact, I cannot recall any female friend of mine that has that luxury. But, I'm beginning to think that we should have that service available. A period is a vile, stinky, sticky, bloody mess that happens to a woman once a month, that we have no control over, that we didn't ask for, and would certainly rather give up. The upkeep of it, the control of it, all while feeling like shit...well, that's just an added bonus, isn't it. So, Frank, maybe if you'd lapped it up for Marilyn, after she worked hard on a show, or had to answer to her fans, and all the flashing lights, and on, and on, and on, well, perhaps she wouldn't have been so stinky. As I sit here in my giant diaper pad, with wings, yes, I think Frank should have lapped it up for Marilyn. It's a real loss some of the things that we have given up to walk upright.
So, coming full circle, I was made fun of this week. I was put down. Someone tried to steamroll me with their wits. And it was in an email...which is kind of chicken shit. But, ok, ok. At first I was angry. I wasn't angry that I had been called out. I was angry that I had to waste my time with this nonscense. It wasn't going to be very had to win. And I knew that...it was just a stupid thing to begin with, that had nothing to do with anything.
I sat as my desk and took in the view for a moment. I have an Anna Nicole Smith bobblehead at my desk. In my head a lit a single white candle to place in front of the mini-Anna. She nodded to me and winked. I imagined her having her period, too.
I took comfort and fired back an email. I barked in the most professional, polite and courteous manner. And noted that I would see her at the meeting tomorrow, and if there was still some confusion, to please see me, and we would discuss.
The next day, I wore a suit and heels. I was tall and tailored. I took my cell phone and my black planner and my business cards. The woman was there. I sighed. It was to begin. She gave me just one look and one sentence. I shot back with a direct order. My voice is booming and deeper than most women that I know. I never diverted my stare. I never waivered.
The woman took the order. Now the order had been set between us. I was to be the dominate person. I would advance. She didn't put up much of a fight. She took it. It had to be the stupidist thing ever. It was the tone of my voice and my suit.
I felt sorry for us both. I played right into the very thing that I hate in this world. Dressing for success, after we're taught to judge a book, not by it's cover. And she would spend some time being dominated by a person that didn't want to dominate....I just wanted to work. Why would anyone think I was better than them? I don't really believe that.
I have to go change my pad. Perhaps, sometimes, I can be got.
No comments:
Post a Comment