A Powerful Lesson – The Art of Cursing Taught by Kevin Smith

I love me a good curse word. I really do. Dropping an f-bomb or a good “GD” sometimes feels like the only way to really make your point. It’s not very ladylike, and, I know all too well the lesson I often impart to my kids…using words like that takes away your power. It makes people focus on the jarring moment that you do it instead of the point you are trying to make. Yet, it’s still one of my dirty little secrets.

The people closest to me know this. They’ve heard me just be me and use the words I love so much to make a point probably one too many times. The people at work only know because I shared my love of cursing in a team-building session one day when we had to tell the group something they didn’t know about us. “I curse like a sailor,” I said proudly. They were shocked. My boss kept remarking, “You have a really good governor on that.” Yes…yes I do…back to the life lesson I give my kids…I know it takes away any power in what I’m saying if used at the wrong moment, so I don’t use it often at work.

I guess that’s why I was taken aback at a recent event I went to. The speaker stood in front of a nearly full auditorium dropping the f-bomb and words used for the female anatomy that are typically off limits for even the most vile cursers like me. He did it so naturally that I realized it’s just worked into his daily speech like any other word, as often as “the,” “and” or “very” might be. There was rarely a sentence without one or two f-bombs used in interesting new ways as adjectives or just because. It caught me by surprise and I’m not sure why. It was within character and completely fit the audience so it wasn’t crazy or out of place, but it made me laugh. That’s not the only reason I was laughing though. The group of about 1,000 people or more around me were also pretty entertaining.

You see, my husband is a huge Kevin Smith fan. You know Kevin Smith? The director who produced Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma etc. He’s been known for 20 years as being cutting edge, irreverent and intelligent in his humor and his art. He’s the big guy also recently known for getting asked to leave a Southwest flight because he wouldn’t buy two seats, and they thought he was too large for just one. They clearly didn’t know who they were dealing with because Smith is very active in the podcast world and blogosphere right now. He launched a social media rant right there in the gate area and all got resolved pretty quickly. I’m sure that rant was laced with some great profanity…I should go back and read that!

So, anyway, Kevin Smith has made his latest movie, Red State. It’s not his normal fare. It’s a dark look at the extreme right religious evangelism out there as well as politics and shortcomings in our government. It’s gory and gross and intense. And, it doesn’t have a distributor. So, Smith himself is screening it around the country. He opens the screening with a personal introduction and closes it with a one-hour plus rambling Q&A that was interesting, thought-provoking and funny in a very relatable, non-Hollywood manner. It helped that the theatre was full of “his” people.

What do I mean by that? I mean that I’ve never seen so many heavy, tatted up, pony-tailed men in huge t-shirts and baggy shorts in one place. Not scary tatted up, pony-tailed men, but rather, the kind you used to know in college. The academic stoner type with a good serving of geek thrown in. There were many “we’re not worthy” bows going on in the audience every time Smith said…well…pretty much anything. There were many laughs with associated snorts throughout the audience. There was an abundance of mobile technology. And, of course there was a lot of whooping and hollering every time Smith used one of the more off-limit words. I have always felt comfortable in pretty much any crowd. In high school, I could hang out with the Beta Club as easily as with the Cheerleaders and find myself shooting the breeze with the stoners in the smoking lounge that afternoon without skipping a beat. But here, I felt like there was a spotlight on me pointing to the one middle-aged woman in the room who often gets mistaken for a prude. I wanted to shout, “I love to curse too! So what if I had to walk out of Chasing Amy because the sexual references became too much for me. I’m still cool. I just have my boundaries.”

But, then, among the Smith look-alikes and crowd with more greasy long hair per capita than I can do justice to in a short description, a real “moment” took place. During the Q&A, it was time for the very last question. We happened to be sitting right next to the microphone where people had lined up. And, this young guy walked up and started to ask his question. He stammered, his lisp loud and clear. He tried again and only got out a shallow groan and this: “I’m trying not to pass out here…what was my question again? Hold on…” And, this crowd of rough-looking, cursing people, many of whom literally cheered during violent scenes in the movie just minutes earlier, laughed nervously…but wait…not in an ugly way…there was some support there too. While it all happened, Smith wandered to side stage, jumped down and came directly to the guy trying to ask his question. He held his hand and said, “Don’t be nervous. We’ll do this together. What did you want to ask me?” The guy was flabbergasted but got it together and asked. Smith held his hand through the whole answer…a good 4-5 minutes and hugged him in the end. And, the crowd went wild. They were among “their” people and, like any good group, nobody disrespects one of their own.

This sweet moment was juxtaposed with the fact that as Smith and the unknown question asker held hands and swayed together during their talk, Smith used the f-bomb at least 3 times and peppered the answer with a few other choice words. Yet, there was no power lost in that moment. Just a nice thank you to those who have supported him for the past 20 years from a person who, in his words, “won the lottery and got the dream job of making pretend for his career.”

As for this woman who might wear the costume of a prude, and who attended this and other Smith movies in the past on the fringe just to support her husband’s interests, I enjoyed every minute of it. I especially enjoyed the moment when Smith admitted that he’d been “creeping out women for years” because that’s exactly how I felt until I saw him, heard him and felt a genuine decency from him. So, cursers unite…scream it from the rooftops if you need to…Shit, Damn, whatever your personal word of choice…turns out the real power is in your actions, not your words.

Breaking Habits

I opened my bag and dug all around…starting slowly and getting more frantic.  Where were my pictures?  They’re always here. I need them. The plane was starting to taxi now and the flight attendant came by to ask me to please stow my bag under the seat.  “Just a sec…almost done,” I stammered and smiled. And, then I remembered.  The pictures weren’t in there.  They were in a different bag, one that came on my last trip with me and was now safely tucked away at my home office.  I put the bag away and quietly, without changing my expression so no one around me could know, panicked beyond belief.

You see…I hate flying…hate isn’t the right word…I feel terrified of flying. But, I have to do it often to do my job. Regular quiet stress-filled panic attacks aren’t healthy and making a living is crucial so I needed a plan. I talked to a therapist. She suggested visualization. So, I worked on visualizing myself getting to my destination safely…the only problem was that, in my vision, I never made it there because I blew up somewhere along the way. Next, I tried valerian root, a natural supplement that relaxes you. It relaxed me enough to open my mind to other possibilities…not just blowing up but a long descent where I could consider the horror.  Time to move on…wine worked fairly well but doesn’t mix well with morning flights after which you are due at a meeting and, when you can drink it on evening flights, it gives you a headache.  So…eventually, after years of terror, I came up with my pictures.

It is a collection of pictures of those I love. I use them as a focal point.  I take them out as we taxi toward takeoff and flip through them so fast that I can barely see them all, stopping to touch or smile at one or another that in the moment catches my attention. It’s like when you’re having a baby…find something to focus on to help you get your mind off the pain. I hold those pictures for as long as I need to during the flight.  If it’s a good one, I put them back in my bag when we reach cruising altitude. When it’s a bad one, I clutch them throughout. Good or bad isn’t based on turbulence or bad weather or anything tangible though…it’s just whatever my wild brain and nervous system feels like presenting me with that day. It’s all in my head. It’s all self perpetuated and the only way I can stop it is by looking like a crazy person flipping wildly through pictures. Yet, it works…so I’ve done it for 10 years at least.  I never, ever forget my pictures. But, today I did.

Today, the first of a 4-leg trip over the next 5 days…Atlanta to New Jersey, New Jersey to Memphis, Memphis to LA and LA back to Atlanta.  Four long flights ahead of me without my crutch.  You would think I would want to cry.  I didn’t. I wanted to get my affairs in order…seriously, because, for superstitious me, it was a sign of the apocolypse…it was a sign that I would not survive this trip.  Yet, I did.

I survived just fine…without my pictures. It reminds me of those baseball superstitions…the ones where players don’t wash their socks for weeks for fear of breaking a winning streak. Stupid, not reasonable, but perfectly acceptable in my opinion. Funny thing is that, while I survived physically, I did have some pretty intense emotional experiences along the way.

On this particular trip, wild and strange and almost monumental things happened all around me…things that don’t normally happen. Was it my lack of pictures that caused it? Was it an effort for the world to re-align itself, re-adjust to right the wrong of my not remembering to change my pictures from one bag to another?  I’d love to make it all about me and my crazy habits…to make the world spin on its axis because of a simple act of personal negligence, but…hard to believe…I know…I’m not that crazy.  So, I’ll make it about what it really was about…the people around me.

You see..on the first leg of the trip, I watched a woman reach her breaking point. She was not enjoying a particularly important and challenging meeting nor the feedback she was getting from those around her during it. So, she…very dramatically I might add…fled the scene. Seriously, she threw up her hands, yelled “I can’t, I can’t” and ran out of the room, disappearing for nearly 45 minutes.  It was quite spectacular.  It was also quite sad. I’ve known many people, including myself, who have dreamed of doing just that at various times in their career…my exit would, of course, be filled with expletives to give it extra umpphh…ahhh…to dream.  Yet, she stopped dreaming…she did it…for real. And, can I be honest? It was pretty ugly. While it felt very “Real Housewives of Corporate America,” it did not portray her well. I wished to help and did try to talk to her afterward, but she was too far gone then.  If only she had some mental focal point to get her through the terror of a tough meeting…maybe not a very visible set of pictures, but a mental game to play…that would have helped, I believe, but way too late now.

And, as always for me, there was no time to dwell because I was off to my next flight. There, in the very, very, very early morning dawn at the nearly empty airport, I went through security with Andrew Shue…the Andrew Shue of Melrose Place fame, but more importantly of Do Something! fame.  I have followed that man’s work for years and have been in awe of how he parlayed a short-lived acting career into doing great philanthropic work all over the country and using the platform to encourage others to do the same. I have even considered trying to knock on their door and beg to work for them. And, there he was, right in front of me. Alone. So, did I do it? Did I say, “Wow.  I have always really respected you and would love to work with you some day. Actually, I work for an organization that could partner with you.”?  Nope…I walked right up to him and as I got close, I passed right by. I chickened out.  Why?  I have no idea. But, I did. The worst part…at my age I understand wasted opportunity. When things present themselves, you HAVE to take advantage of them because it happens rarely. I know this…I preach it often..and I didn’t do it.  I was off my game…really off my game…and it all started with forgetting those damn pictures.

Next, I found myself at a conference…an unusal conference with interesting people who were all there to meet, connect and find ways to make a difference together. It wasn’t a professional development session, but rather, an action meeting.  It made me stretch myself and do very uncomfortable things like Speed Networking…just what you think…Speed Dating set up, but professional introductions followed by “My mission here is…” conversation with total strangers for four minutes. I found some really, really amazing thinkers there and I worked hard to connect. But, the weekend was also peppered with some other odd experiences like Laugh Yoga…seriously, standing in a room with 100 other people in business attire, stretching and forcing yourself to laugh…uncomfortable, bizarre, funny, but, again…interesting.  There were also personal sharing sessions and bongo drum beating.  It was like no other meeting I’ve ever been to…ever…in a 20+ year career.  And, people came to play. They participated. They didn’t walk when asked to stare at a stranger and laugh for 3 minutes. They committed themselves and did it all.

The jury is out for me on this particular meeting. I’m glad I did it, if nothing else but for the people I encountered and the ideas it started brewing in my head. But, here’s my question…would it have played out this way…those whacky 5 days of unusual happenings if I had started it the same as always…sitting quietly, looking down at my pictures instead of forcing myself to look out, ahead and forward? Hmmm….looking ahead and experiencing the sad, the bizarre and the interesting…I’ll leave that one to you to ponder.

Bill Simmons & Me: An Unusual Pair Joined Through Reality

I’m coming clean.  I have a habit. One I should have shared long ago, but I was afraid.  Thanks to Bill Simmons – an ESPN.com writer, of all people—I’ve decided to come out. I’m a reality TV addict.

You know they exist out there…addicts like me…it’s the reason for the plethora of shows on TV…they wouldn’t be there if they didn’t have an audience.  Unfortunately…I’m not talking about the good reality TV, if there is such a thing. What I’m trying to say is it’s not the respectable stuff – Amazing Race, Survivor, Dancing with the Stars.  I do love those too, even if Dancing feels a bit like a monkey on my back most seasons.  But, my real secret is my love of MTV.  I can’t help myself.  Real World , the old Road Rules, The Hills, The City, even Made…but the ones that get me every time are the Real World/Road Rules Challenges.

It doesn’t matter if it’s the Gauntlet, the Inferno, Fresh Meat…yes, that’s truly what they call these shows. Yet, you name it…I’m there. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I’m a 40 year old woman. I’m a mother and a wife.  I’m a Corporate Executive for God’s sake. Yet, I still find myself flipping to MTV first every single time I turn on the TV just to troll around and see what might be on.  What are these shows you may ask?  On the outside (and, to be honest, maybe on the inside too) they are the scourge of our society. Okay…well not completely.  As much as Mark Burnett, Survivor creator, gets tons of credit for being the “Lord of Reality TV”, Mary Ellis Bunim and her business partner Jonathan Murray really began reality TV as we know it long before Burnett came around.  They started it with the first-ever season of Real World (in New York City).  I could get all high-brow and talk about how that is what originally sucked me in back when it was reasonable for me to watch these things…in my 20s…when I could potentially relate to a group of young Gen Xers finding themselves and learning about the world by being thrown into a living situation with 7 disparate personalities. And, maybe that is what started it for me, but, now, today, it’s a bunch of ‘roided up fame wannabes behaving badly and nothing more…and, STILL, I can’t get enough.

So, where does ESPN.com writer Bill Simmons come in?  I mean, I’m not exactly a sports fanatic. But my husband is. And, he spends tons of time listening to talk radio and related podcasts. Simmons has one podcast – The B.S. Report – that spends the bulk of its time on sports but also peppers in his love of other things pop culture. And, he, like me, has embraced his predilection for MTV shows.  The first podcast I heard from him on the topic was awhile back when MTV did the mother of all reunion specials. It was an anniversary for Real World and they brought almost everyone back to walk a red carpet and enjoy a night together under the guise of the Real World awards…but really to just let them get dressed up in slutty and outrageous outfits, fill them full of liquor and watch what happens as they all try to get a bit more camera time in a new environment. Simmons and his friend, Dave Jacoby – an ESPN producer who is also known as The Reality Czar – did a play-by-play on the show and let on that they, too, while now men in their 40s could not let go of the habit they’d begun in their early 20s while in college.  They know every player way more than I do and they told their stories and related their issues, concerns and worries about all the cast mates as if they were in my head hearing my thoughts.  Their tone, in that particular podcast, bordered on humor, seriousness, curiosity, concern and a tiny bit of embarrassment. But, they couldn’t help themselves.  It’s a dirty habit, I tell you!

They’ve done several more since then mixed in with some great Survivor coverage…these guys even play Fantasy Survivor. Man…if only I knew how to get in on that! And, because we are some type of kindred spirits, they…one time only…moved away from our mutual Reality TV hell to cover the Lost finale…because they are smart enough to recognize great story-telling when it’s out there. I think that may be what pushed me right over the edge. How are we so connected? How many others are there out there like us?

Here’s what I now know for sure…it’s not just the voices of Simmons and Jacoby that communicate this embarrassing yet totally fun habit. My neighbor and I have had this secret for a while. Somewhere along the way we found out that we both watch these God-awful MTV shows.  It was a bit like a coming out when we discovered it. We were at a party talking and people started mentioning “safe” shows like The Bachelor. Somehow the conversation meandered and we both realized there might be a connection. We found ourselves in a corner pretending to discuss how we might have run across The Hills recently. Before we knew it, we were sharing stories about how we hide our habit – I used to keep my finger on the remote and switch the channel really fast if I heard my husband coming. She waited until her husband was travelling on business and secretly caught up on old episodes.  That empowered me to just watch it openly. And, soon, out of the shadows, I began to realize there must be more out there like me. Then, I heard the first podcast.  I was free!

Yet, it was the most recent podcast the drove me to write this. It was coverage of Fresh Meat 2, the Real World/Road Rules Challenge that aired this past Spring. It was a good one… a really good one. There was strategy being bantered around during drunken nights, ridiculous characters – young people so full of ego and bravado that they have no idea how ridiculous they look – friends turning on each other for the possibility of $30,000, new girls feeling proud to be considered “the pretty ones” in the house, big hot messes of people whose whole lives have been about these Challenges.  It’s like an underground world and they make a living – a 20-year old’s living, but a living – doing it. And, it’s very real to them…very, very real.  Simmons and Jacoby couldn’t stop talking about it amidst giggling (yes giggling…that’s what we all do when we’re somewhat embarrassed by what we’re talking about but can’t seem to stop). And, I couldn’t stop listening.

At one point, Simmons was telling about how he found himself bored in a hotel room at 1 a.m. during a recent business trip.  So, what did he do? Not what most men of means alone on business in a strange city late at night would do…he Googled one of the newer players on Fresh Meat to find out about him.  Jacoby told him that was pathetic.  Maybe…but, if you ask me, there’s a hell of a lot worse you can do in that scenario.  I know…I’ve seen it, heard it and see people live that life a lot during my business travel.  I can honestly say I find myself making the same choice as Simmons when dealing with insomnia and loneliness after too many days on the road.  I start surfing the channels, searching the web looking for recaps of the latest show, wondering about where these people are right now and what their lives look like and, if all else is lost, I’ll even hit late-night Bravo programming to watch some Real Housewives marathons.

You’ve got to have an outlet. I guess that’s mine.  So, thank you Bill Simmons and your very funny friend Dave Jacoby…I’m giggling nervously in my head as I write this, but you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be listening for that next podcast to giggle along with you.

They Say The Truth Shall Set You Free

“We all rejoiced that a good, hardworking woman was finally getting her due, and swooned as she constantly lavished acceptance-speech praise on her seemingly smitten husband — her Prince Charming in this picture-perfect scenario. That’s what makes the reports that Bullock’s five-year marraige is in jeopardy so surprising, so sad….And the worst part– for us, people who, admittedly have no stake in this — is that it blows up the story line we had worked out. We wanted her to have a happy ending — a revived career, an Oscar, a great man — to prove to us it was possible for someone.”

That’s Entertainment Weekly‘s take on the Sandra Bullock debacle. For those of you who don’t know…she recently had a 12 month run of success, awards, accolades and hit a career high with an Oscar win — all the while praising those who supported her and helped her become a stable, smart, together person who could handle such success as well as accept a strong man and a strong marriage that, in turn, made her who she was. After all that…her husband was outed for allegedly cheating on her with a tattoo-ed and pierced pin up “model.”  All the better, the affair has apparently been going on for 10 months.

While I completely agree with Entertainment Weekly…this is what we all want to believe is reality — the Cinderella story — what IS reality to most people across this world is exactly what happened.  I mean…after the Oscar win and kind acknowlegement of her husband in the acceptance speech, I began counting down. Wondering when the other shoe would drop. Call me a cynic. Call me whatever you’d like, but I was right.

It’s not an unheard of story, right?  Woman finds success. Man, strong man with his own reputation, isn’t so sure he likes it but doesn’t speak up…it would be wrong to admit it threatens him. So, instead, he plays around a little seeing what it feels like when he’s with someone who makes him look important, feel like the bigger person.  That scene has played out numerous times in my personal life…starting with boys in Junior High and moving on to my own Father and Mother in my young adult years.

Don’t get me wrong though…I’m not a man-hater. I don’t think it only works one way. The male ego is one thing that drives these types of cheating relationships, but I’ve seen plenty of wrongdoing on the female side too.

Actually not too long ago, a good friend called and said, “My husband left me.” I hestitated. Did I hear that right?  I mean not many people react perfectly to that type of phone call.  You hear the news, you process it and then…take my word on this one…the word of experience…whether it’s you, a loved one or a friend saying it, it smashes itself down in the middle of your world.  So, you go into “friend” mode.  “What? Why? Wait…I’m so sorry.  Are you okay?”

Interesting thing about this scenario….he had real reason to leave.  He was wronged. Almost immediately in our conversation, she quickly admitted she had a connection with someone else that led to conversations and what else?  I didn’t ask and she didn’t tell.  But her husband found out and he left and she was left to clean up the mess – a big, sloppy, dark stain on the life they’d built together – one that she wholly admits to creating.

Even more interesting to me….I took her side. I despise cheating.    It ruined our already-feeble family when I was younger…delivered the final blow.  It was more than 20 years ago and I’m still not over it.  I’ve had other friends who’ve done it or had it done to them and I cut off the cheater…never looking back.  Done.  Don’t even care to know the details. Yet, this time when the woman – my friend – may have wronged, I found empathy inside myself.  Was it that this time it was a woman and not a man doing the cheating?  Was it that I’d watched her try to keep her marriage together for years and I knew this was the act of a desperately lonely woman trapped in a bad marriage versus that of a malicious person?  Or, was it just that she owned it so openly?

I’ve always been one who loves it when a person takes responsibility for their actions.  And, let’s face it.  Most cheaters have a million excuses and rarely admit what they really did.  The perfect example is another close friend whose husband cheated. She never received closure either. She had lots of evidence of some type of relationship but it stopped short of proving any consummation of the relationship beyond a reasonable doubt.  He continues to cling to that doubt every day as his life raft.  I’m exhausted just watching.  Seriously, how deafeningly tiring must it be to hang on to that last bit of dishonesty until your knuckles are white, your joints are locked and your fingers no longer feel sensation?

They say the truth shall set you free.  For me, with my friend and her open, flat-out, call a spade a spade honestly, it did just that.  The thing I thought I hated the most was a cheater.  Really, though, it’s the deceit.

In this world of imperfection, things get messy and go awry, but everybody wants to sweep it under the rug or pretty it up.  I can name five couples who are facing these types of issues right this second….make that six…no seven…You get the picture.  It’s common.  It happens often, but bold-faced honesty, accepting one’s actions and consequences, dealing with it head on…so far, only one person comes to mind there.  So, I responded to that phone call and I continued to stand by her.  I told her no matter how mad you are at yourself, you have someone on your side.  And, then I looked and found myself there…that person on her side…just as surprised as she was.

Who knew?  The woman who occasionally still dreams at night about physically harming the tramp who helped break up her childhood family is standing by a cheater and is damn proud of it.  Amazing what each day brings!

Oh, How the Mighty Can Fall

Okay, so one part of my life that may not be as “normal” as everyone else is that my job takes me to Hollywood during awards seasons fairly often.  So, that has given me the opportunity to test my wit against the likes of Conan O’Brien and John Stewart at parties and while riding together in hotel elevators.  (I love to say I held my own there!) And, I’ve had the chance to sit by the pool next to Clive Owen (one of the top five on my list…sadly, I don’t think I’m on his list, though), and chat with Cheryl Hines, Edie Falco and more.

I had a celebrity filled week at work this week too.  Lots of big wins with celebrities we chose to use in our advertising and PR campaigns and quite a few gut punches as well because, like all things, there are always bumps in the road. Whether its big money work with huge stars or  start-up projects for up and coming celebs, it’s always interesting.

A couple of years ago, during the Emmy’s season, I brought my Mom to hang out at the hotel and celebrity watch while I worked.  She planted herself at the pool of the chi-chi hotel we’d booked and I wandered in and out throughout the day to check in with her and get her stories.

On my first round, we noticed a well-known sit com start from the late 70s.  He has since become a producer.  Truly a power player in Hollywood.  He, too, was spending the day planted at the pool.  During my second round of “Mom-checks,” he got in the pool and enjoyed swimming some laps.  He waded and swam for some time, enjoying the gaze of recognition from other loungers and just overall seizing the day.  It was on my third round of check ins that I discovered even power players face reality.  It was then that his wife and daughter – who had apparently been partaking of the super expensive spa and hotel – started walking the perimeter of the pool nervously.  Soon, they dragged him along.  He, followed, obviously being scolded for something.

It seems his daughter’s bag was missing.  She was whining…”Moooommmmm…” And, the wife whose power player husband was right there was saying, “Honey, NO ONE KNEW DADDY WOULD LEAVE ALL OF OUR THINGS JUST SITTING THERE SO HE COULD SWIM LAPS,” in a half whisper, half yelling tone as if he had committed a mortal sin…a horrible crime…the crime of…swimming! Every wife, daughter, girlfriend…woman…knows the tone with which these words were said.  Not disdain, really, just annoyance at the sheer stupidity of swimming while at the pool and not considering every minor possibility that might happen to their belongings!

Seriously, we’ve all seen similar things play out at beaches, theme parks, the local neighborhood pool. And power player or Joe Schmo…it doesn’t matter.  That day I realized…you can rule your own corner of the world, but there’s always someone close to you who has your number and no one…no one is immune from those conversations with the “tone.” It’s what makes us all real and it’s what makes us all…at some level…the same.