Wesley.

Foggy memories, that's all that left of Wesley in my brain.  I remember him crying, I remember being annoyed with dealing with a baby.  I was maybe 7, and that's all the exposure I had with my cousin.

My cousin was 7 years younger than me, and through time and miles and family squabbles, he was little more than a stranger to me.  That's what happens when families are large and spread out, honestly, when care isn't taken to stay geographically close to one another. In a family like mine, where Dad was one of 10 and Mom was one of 13, there tends to be little gravity pulling all of the extended cousins together.

For whatever reason, though, when I learned this Sunday that Wesley had died at 25, I was gripped with a feeling of loss.  It shouldn't have meant much to me, this virtual stranger's death, but it did. Coming to grips with exactly why its affecting me at all has been a conundrum, and I'm still not 100% resolved.

I think mainly it points to how short life really is, in varying degrees for all of us. I wonder if Wesley did any of the things he'd set out to do when he dreamed of life as an adult, but if he was like most of us, he probably didn't. Also, since he shared at least a shred of my DNA, there is that dread that the brevity of years will run in the family.

Whatever the case, the simple truth is that once most of us are gone, the vacuum of our disappearance is quickly filled with the fact that life moves forward with a trajectory that's nearly unfathomable.  Maybe that's the hardest part of facing death---knowing that eventually, you'll be forgotten.

I see it a lot at flea markets---very old black and white pictures of people that once were loved, cherished, hated...people that were mothers and sisters and cousins.  And now, they are simply a relic of days gone by, a moment captured on film and then in a blink, forgotten.

Overall, the feelings I believe that I am left with is that of infinite smallness, and of sorrow...sorrow for all of us, living as if we've already died, living as if we're ready to be swept aside into the mausoleums of time.

I believe very much in energy.  Each time I have an amazing moment, I close my eyes and I try very hard to capture the essence and the energy within.  It's my hope that Wesley had these, and that some of the energy contained therein still exists here with the people that knew him better than I did.

Skeptically Yours.

Jerks.

It feels like a lifetime ago...the day I drove in a daze to Ventura to shoot a short film for Forza Motorsports. I remember the Nova was running rich, fuming badly, but I didn't even stop to adjust the carb...I just floored it to make it to the set. The director knew I would be late, and he held up shooting for me so we could proceed as planned.

I had been cast in the film because I had three things going for me: I'm a girl, and I could talk cars, and I had my Nova. The director needed those three elements, and thus....I had a role playing a "Jerk American" that drove Muscle Cars. We weren't supposed to play nice in the film, I remember the direction was to be a little bitchy. So I was. It was easy to let the negativity pop through, because I had been up all night the previous evening, and was not feeling particularly sociable.


In fact, I had called the director at 5 am, telling him there was no way on Earth I could make it and he should replace me.  You don't do that shit in Hollywood---people start to think you're unreliable, flakey, all the bad things that add up to you never working again.

But there were other things going on. A best friend of mine had been in a horrendous accident the night before, and I had spent the wee hours of the morning at the Cedar Sinai hospital with her. I felt lucky to be included, to help her, to be there for the aftermath during which we picked up the pieces. For her to trust me, and think of me first, when shit hit the fan.

So without hesitation, I called the director and said "sorry..."

To my infinite surprise, he said they'd hold up shooting for a few hours while I made my way there, and so I got to do both things...help my friend, and shoot a short film. When I watch this film, I think back to the reactions of my friends and family who criticized my "attitude" in the film. I don't know...to me, it was just acting...it was playing a role of a cocky, jerky girl driving an old car. I got criticized for playing a major jerk in a film that I almost missed out on, because I was being a good friend. Interesting the many roles we play in our lives, eh?

That's why recently I started thinking back on this film...


Because its  interesting the many ways we're judged.  As I find myself being judged in new ways, sometimes I wonder if all we're seeing of each other are these superficial roles, the ones we're directed into as we're cast into the characters we have to play each day, and not, as Mr. MLK Jr. would say, for the content of our character. 



Skeptically Yours.

The Lost Fight for Lennox

Around the world today, people are mourning a dog that most of us didn't even know. I certainly never met Lennox, as he existed in a country I've never even visited, but had planned to.  I have, however, met, owned, and loved plenty of dogs that look remarkably similar to Lennox,  including my own Staffordshire mix, Joplin.

The summary, in case you haven't followed Lennox's case, is that he was removed from his family in Belfast, Ireland, because he appeared to be a Pit Bull...and in that city, they abide by the most ridiculous concept of Breed Ban legislation.  They intended to "destroy" Lennox, but the family fought it. Fast forward through a couple of years, lots of signatures on a petition to free him, celebrity backing, famous dog trainer Victoria Stillwell making pleas on the BBC, a Facebook campaign, and news coverage...and Belfast City Council killed Lennox this am. 

Breed Ban Legislation is the foolish notion that by criminalizing an entire breed of canine, the "danger" imposed by that breed will diminish.  It bases its "logic" on foolish statistics that claim AmStaffs and Bull Terriers (and Rottweilers and German Shepherds and Akitas, et al) are vicious.  Statistics, my friends, are not unbiased, because the gathering of said statistics is done in a flawed system, by flawed people, and though Math is objective, the system in which its collected and weighed is very much subjective.

The idea that we can become safer because we eradicate a creature based on looks and background has been proven incorrect time after time.  The eradication of an entire breed sounds a lot to me like genocide, and although at this time it's perpetrated against dogs and not humans, it doesn't make it any less foolish.  It's a disgusting, amoral activity that solves nothing.

I tell the story often of the "most vicious dog I've ever met." He was a poodle and made of something like 60% rage and 40% muscle. He attacked me with the intent to rip off my face.  Wisely, my parents chastised the owners and not the dog, because he was a product of idiot owners.  I know idiot owners of dogs, idiot owners of guns, idiot owners of cars, idiot "owners" of children.  They are all potentially dangerous, potentially murderous.  "Potential to murder", "potential to harm," that's all still Innocent before proven Guilty.  Living in a world where we are Guilty before Proven Innocent means we are all doomed before given a chance to either fuck up, or do well.

I'm skeptical about any blanket statements, anything considered a "blanket truth." No such thing, folks...no such thing.  Breed Ban Legislation is one of those Blanket Statement Laws....because the X equals Y, it's bad and it has be destroyed. Insert your own values, and realize that this an evil, foolish equation, and a slippery slope into letting our "leaders" into our homes to decide what elements of our lives are acceptable, and which of them are evil according to the state and must be removed.

I say BULLSHIT.  I won't have a moment for silence for Lennox.  I will spend a lifetime yelling "bullshit."

Skeptically Yours.