Please take a minute and read my first ever live review for FaceToHeel.com!
Originally posted on Face To Heel:
Tonight, I will be writing my first live review, and I’m excited to be able to do it for Tables, Ladders, Chairs & Stairs. The TLC kickoff featured Paul Heyman on commentary, with his typical “why am I here with these fools” expression. Our preshow match is a tag team battle between Gold and Stardust and Big E and Kofi Kingston of A New Day. To quote my 9-year-old, “What is this? I don’t get it.” I don’t have a good answer that properly explains what A New Day is doing, but I am enjoying Stardust’s new green hue. This is a better match than I imagined, but it’s a shame to see Kingston and Big E fail to expand their moveset in order to fit their new characters. Stardust is looking strong, not letting either New Day member really get off the ground. Big E eventually comes in like…
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I am still recovering from one of the worst weekends I have ever had. I had to hit Walmart on Friday after work to get drinks, breakfast, dog treats, and a couple of books for my child in order to prepare for 8+ hours in the car on Saturday. My mother-in-law is moving to Ohio, right down the street from her mom, so she’ll be able to take care of her in her golden years. When I stopped by my mom-in-law’s house, she was frantic. There were boxes everywhere, her moving truck was partially loaded with even more boxes, furniture was upended and leaning against walls, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. She gave me some food to take home, as she unplugged her fridge to take it with her and couldn’t keep the cold items. I ran home to drop off our groceries and ended up coming right back to help load the truck. My husband, coming off of a 50 hour work week, came straight from work to help load the truck. We spent about two hours there until we ran out of room to put things.
My mom-in-law’s friend J came to help, and by help I mean she stood around watching. At one point J rinsed off a bunch of cups and threw the wet glassware into a large garbage bag. At another point, she was dragging a wet rag across the counters over and over again. To call her useless would be a compliment. Her husband L arrived eventually to help my husband with the fridge and other large items. My son ate some leftover pizza while we worked, packed, and got rained on. When we were finally finished, I took off to grab some Chinese food and my husband and boy went home to see to the dog and get into comfortable clothes. After eating, we went about getting as much ready as possible for the road trip the next day and went to sleep around 10:30pm.
Saturday morning, my alarm sounded at 4:30am. My husband was already in the shower, so I got up and got our dog’s food ready. We all had breakfast, picking from the goodies I purchased the day before, in order to cut down on the number of stops we’d have to make between home and mom-in-law’s new house. I also packed my son’s lunch bag with a ton of goodies and had quite a few drinks and snacks for myself and the husband. We arrived at mom-in-law’s at 6am, only to see J and L still loading things up. After some groggy hellos, we hit the road at 6:30am.
At 8am, after making some great time, my mom-in-law calls my husband to say that they are going to stop at Steak N Shake for a sit-down breakfast. This is ridiculous. I’ve been on many trips with my mom-in-law to Ohio and when we stop for food, we do it via drive-thru before leaving our hometown. No doubt in my mind, J has talked her into halting our entire trip to go eat. I decided to go in with them because my boy wanted a milkshake, and my husband waited with our dog by the car. We were there for 30 minutes, 28 of which I spent being horribly embarrassed because the adults I was with decided to treat our poor waitress like complete shit. “What kind of restaurant doesn’t have biscuits?!?” (the truck was delayed) “OUR Steak N Shake doesn’t treat their customers like this.” “Should have expected this kind of bad service in Ohio.” “Why isn’t there butter on my toast? Who doesn’t butter their toast??” (there was plenty of butter). This went on the whole time, and our waitress was not only very pleasant, she was quick and efficient and did a fantastic job. I left all the $1s I had on the table as a way to make up for everyone acting like an ass. I wish I could have left more.
After breakfast, we let everyone else go ahead and popped by a gas station for coffee and to cool down. Since the moving truck can’t go very fast, we were able to catch up to everyone after about 30 minutes. Finally, after what felt like forever, we were parked and ready to begin unloading. We were expecting to arrive and find my sister-in-law and her husband, three guys from the local church, and my husband’s cousin and her husband. We arrived to find my husband’s grandmother and some random old lady whose name was not worth learning. I’ll call her Waste Of Space. The moving truck finally gets backed into the driveway and we get to work.
My husband, my mom-in-law, and myself are the only people worth a damn when it comes to unloading this truck. J is doing a whole lot of standing around, making jokes about how she doesn’t have to move the fridge or any heavy furniture, and making me wonder why the hell she bothered coming in the first place. Waste Of Space insists on not only standing right at the end of the moving truck ramp in everyone’s way, but reading boxes to me as if I’m an illiterate fool who doesn’t understand how to move a box from point A and place it in spot B. When she’s not blocking the ramp, she’s busy standing on the basement stairs, holding our her scrawny arms to “help” while people are already navigating down the stairway. I find myself secretly hoping she has narcolepsy and passes out somewhere.
The stress of the move finally gets to my mom-in-law and she starts getting snippy. Totally understandable when you’re dealing with people moving your life out of a truck and into your new home, but it rubbed my husband the wrong way and he let her know. Mom-in-law overreacted about us moving boxes because she failed to communicate that the boxes were now meant to go to a second garage. He didn’t yell, didn’t scream or cuss, just got snippy right back. That was it. Typical mother and adult child interaction, tame by most standards. J apparently thought it was the worst thing ever, so she texted my sister-in-law “Jamie and your mom are already into it. Didn’t take long!” Little did her brilliant mind realize that she replied to a mass text. I got that text, and so did my husband.
Once he saw that, he went over to the second garage where boxes were now being unloaded, walked in and said “Who sent this text?” J, with a smirk on her face, said that it was her. My husband, acting a lot calmer than I probably would have, was in the process of calling out this woman for her immature behavior when L chimed in from the truck, saying “you don’t talk to my wife like that! Asshole!” At that point, my husband laughed and announced that we were leaving. I followed behind, fighting the urge to get in L’s face as he yelled insults at my husband from the safety of the moving truck. Idiot.
I don’t know what kind of friend J is meant to be to my mom-in-law, or what kind of friend L is to her either, but no friends of mine are going to talk trash about my kid and remain my friend. My husband assured his mother that he wasn’t mad at her, but also wasn’t going to hang around and be disrespected by some idiots (my word, not his). He told her that she needs new friends. And with that, we began the four-hour drive back home. We were only there for 90 minutes before people started acting like idiots. Total waste of a Saturday, but at least we were able to unload the beds and most of the furniture. The mystery church guys and my sister and brother-in-law could handle the rest, if they ever decided to show up. We were done.
On Sunday, my husband received a text from his mom saying that J was sorry. Maybe I’m petty, but I don’t think anyone should have to accept a second-hand apology. Be an adult. If you’re sorry, be direct with the person you offended. Otherwise, don’t say anything at all. She wasn’t sorry. L wasn’t sorry. I should have known what kind of people they were when I saw how they treated that poor waitress. I’m glad to be rid of them, and I’m making sure that my son is never around my mom-in-law if J or L also plan on being around.
To top off our kick-ass Saturday, our washing machine crapped out on Sunday. It flooded our kitchen, which was a delight to clean up. The dryer is also acting up. And no, we don’t have extra cash lying around to replace it because of so many other things we have going on right now. We had soaking wet towels everywhere. The plan to borrow my mom-in-law’s washer and dryer failed because she decided to randomly come home early. A candle got knocked over, getting wax all over the carpet, bookshelf, collectibles, TV, and my husband’s hair. I’m amazed that nothing caught fire. And to top it off, I don’t get Columbus day off like everyone else in my house, so I was up way too damn early again, in the office, dealing with new temp staff that are too stupid to really exist. Plus I got stuck in the rain during a fire drill at work and was wet all day long. I’m mentally and physically drained. I quit.
Amazing article courtesy of FaceToHeel.com!
Originally posted on Face To Heel:
The buzz is all around social media about how excellent NXT has been. But for all the praise of this “developmental” unit within WWE, there are a hundred complaints about the main event shows–Smackdown, Raw, and monthly pay-per-views. WWE owns both, so why is there such a disconnect between the two products? The answer is a simple one, albeit baffling.
WWE’s NXT brand was originally Florida Championship Wrestling (FCW). In 2012 FCW was disbanded and WWE started doing their developmental brand at the Full Sail University in Tampa, FL under the NXT name. It quickly grew to become something legendary. And now, thanks to the WWE Network, NXT has become a powerhouse in its own right. Paul Levesque (Triple H) oversees the NXT operations and has put forward quite an excellent product. Yes, some things are slightly off-putting, such as bad entrance music, wrestlers being released amidst a string of…
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My company has a very strict policy regarding cell phone usage. During my orientation, we were all warned that using our phones during training can and will result in immediate termination. Once out of training, every employee must follow very strict rules regarding cell phone usage. Other than the designated break rooms, the cafeteria, and outside of the building, cell phone use is prohibited. You can’t text while getting coffee or using the microwave; you have to get your food and/or drink and go to a designated break room before pulling out your phone. You can’t throw a post on Facebook while walking through the hallways; any spot but the designated spots are strictly off limits. Because of this, my phone is shut down before I leave for work and doesn’t get turned back on until I’m in my car and ready to drive home.
The cell phone policy is an easy one, thanks to the countless signs posted around the office. We have them above the microwaves and coffee machines, on the bathroom door and on every stall, and in other rooms where people could try to go for privacy. Supervisors give strict instructions that the phones are not to be seen or heard unless in one of the specific zones. You would think it’s an easy policy to follow, but I’ve already seen more than one person lose their job because they’d rather text than pay attention and take notes during training. To be honest, part of me wants to be sympathetic, as I had 4 hours of training and was frustrated and bored; they have two weeks. But the bigger part of me wants to slap them upside the head for being so stupid. Can’t you survive for two hours at a time without a phone? Can’t it wait until you go on break?
People get desperate though without that little device always available to use at their leisure. As a result, the bathroom is a major hotspot for cell phone use during regular breaks or “emergency” restroom breaks. Call me crazy, but I never find myself in a situation that requires me to be on the john and on the phone at the same time. One or the other can wait. As far as hiding places go, a bathroom stall is a last resort in my book; I don’t want to have a conversation in a place where people do their business. But here? People literally multitask, talking in between… well, you get the gist of it. It’s absolutely disgusting.
The amount of dependence we have on these little electronic devices is staggeringly high. When people are at the point to where they would rather go hide out in a cobweb infested abandoned part of campus than just wait until their break to text a friend, it’s a problem. When people are willing to risk their jobs because they absolutely cannot live without Twitter, it’s a problem. This job forced me to go from having my phone always within reach to having it 100% out of sight and out of mind, and it drove me nuts for about a week until I realized how much better off I was without it. I let my email pile up, I get behind on tweets, and I’m cool with it.
Being without a phone, and seeing how people around me refuse to go without, has made me realize how much I was missing by having my eyes glued to that tiny screen so often. What is the point in walking around like a zombie all the time? Is it really THAT important to see who said what on Facebook? Do we really have to document every moment with a selfie or some overly filtered fancy Instagram shot? And please, someone explain to me, what can be so important to make bathroom time become a group activity so you can have a conversation with your mom? Just chill. Unplug. I’m always glad to turn my phone back on when I leave the office for the day, but I’m equally as glad to turn the damn thing off and not deal with it for the eight and a half hours I’m supposed to be working. It didn’t kill me, and it sure as hell won’t kill you.
I am a senior writer for FaceToHeel.com, a newly launched site that covers all things wrestling. Over the past couple months, we’ve covered some amazing topics, met some great people via Twitter at @facetoheel, and learned a hell of a lot along the way. We’ve live tweeted PPVs, posted instant feedback after matches, and have found new ways of looking at the business of wrestling entertainment. Little by little, we are growing and expanding in our efforts to cover and discuss more about what is going on currently, what’s happened in the past, and what the future might bring.
In an effort to get to know our readers better, I have a challenge for all of you. When a wrestler debuts, there are a couple of things that can immediately determine their success; what they are wearing and what music they walk out to. I’m not all that interested in fashion at the moment, but I have always been fascinated at how a song can influence the way the audience views a wrestler. Just like we tend to judge people based on the music they listen to, we judge a wrestler by the music they enter the arena to. WWE’s Dean Ambrose becomes even more unstable and manic, Jack Swagger turns into the ultimate patriot, Adam Rose is a wacky joke, and The Miz is a conceited prick. TNA’s Angelina Love and Velvet Sky are the ultimate drama queens, Mr. Anderson is a man on a mission, and Chris Melendez is an American hero.
Eventually, certain songs become iconic. The car crash before Mick Foley’s song hits, the breaking glass signaling the entrance of Stone Cold, the ringing of the bells welcoming Undertaker; we all instantly and almost uncontrollably react. When Real American starts to play, thousands of fans promise to take their vitamins as they cheer for Hulk Hogan. If CM Punk’s opening riff ever rings out again, half of the world will entirely lose their minds. We may not always realize it, but entrance music is vital to a wrestler’s success and their lasting power.
On that note, have you ever thought about what your entrance music would be? Imagine you’re about to debut on Impact Wrestling or on Monday Night Raw. You’re in your full gear and ready to go. You stretch a bit, staring ahead at the curtain, just waiting to break through into that massive arena filled with screaming fans. Finally, you hear your music hit. What song would it be?
If you have a great answer and you would like to be featured in a FaceToHeel.com article, please contact me immediately at email@example.com or on Twitter at @_CutePoison. Your answer will be used in an upcoming article and you will be credited by your Twitter handle, your Facebook page, or another social media outlet of your choosing. Depending on the response, there is an opportunity for the best answer to get their own feature article. Please reach out as soon as possible for details and questions. We at F2H have been doing a lot of talking lately; now it’s your turn to speak!
I am absolutely horrible at dealing with death. Having a person here one day and gone the next is something I’ll never quite get used to. It doesn’t help that I’m slightly terrified by dead bodies and act like a royal idiot every rare instance I am in a funeral home. When it comes to properly dealing with death, I am completely clueless. I cry randomly when it makes no sense, but remain dry-eyed in moments I should be in tears. I never know what to say or do or how to act. I almost prefer to be notified via text message so I can deal with things in my own way without embarrassing myself or offending anyone.
Everyone deals with death in a different way, and lately I’ve had front row tickets to all the different ways we try to process the loss of life. Some people blame themselves, even though in just about every instance, there was nothing they could have done to prevent whatever happened. Some people blame the deceased, wondering why they couldn’t have done things differently so they could still be here. Anger is a big one; we get angry at the family, at friends or coworkers, at ourselves, or at anything we perceive as not right or proper. Others just withdraw into themselves, as if hiding will make the death something that was all a bad dream.
People have a funny way of coming together in times of tragedy. Estranged family members are suddenly best of friends, hugging and crying and laughing together as they work through each day and try to heal. Sometimes the change is a long lasting one, but more often than not, everyone goes back to ignoring each other within a month or two. It’s a shame that the effects never seem to be long lasting ones, but I suppose it’s better than nothing at all.
Right now, I am dealing by avoiding as much as I possibly can. From the get-go, people have been horrendously ugly with each other, even going as far as saying certain family members did not have the right to attend a viewing. Some people seem concerned with who gets what, totally driven by money and objects while completely ignoring the fact that someone is gone from this world forever. There are plots and theories and things being said that are better suited for an episode of CSI. I simply cannot deal with it anymore.
Call me selfish if you will, but I decided to skip a memorial service earlier today. I declined to go because I did not want to deal with someone who planned to block the door and not allow certain people inside (even though it’s a public service, so it wouldn’t have worked in the end). I declined because I can’t listen to one more theory about what REALLY happened and who is REALLY responsible. I declined because I find it disgusting how certain people are behaving when we should all be honoring someone’s life and remembering them fondly in death.
I am terrible at dealing with death. But I’ve discovered that there are a lot of people who deal with it a hundred times worse than I ever have. I’ve learned that in the end, the way you deal is not important. What is important is that the memory of the one we lost is honored somehow. Differences are put aside and we all treat each other like human beings for a while. Death is a reminder of how short and fragile life is. When someone dies, we shouldn’t waste time hating each other and acting like self-absorbed strangers. That’s no way to live. If I’ve learned one thing this past week, it is that I waste too much time on negativity. I don’t want to do that anymore. And when I die, I want the people I’ve left behind to get along, not argue over who gets what or blame each other for my passing. Life is too short to be wasted on bullshit.
The townhome we currently live in is hardly without problems. The back door leaks, our garbage disposal decided to randomly detach itself from the sink a couple of weeks ago, the floors creak, and there are cracks in the walls. Our unit, which is only about 5 or 6 years old, has walls so thin that I can hear the little girl next door as she giggles and plays in her room. We constantly find dog leftovers and cigarette butts outside our front door, discover kids on our back porch, and then have to deal with insane “market value” rent increases every year. I can’t wait to move.
The silver lining to all of this is the ducks that live in the pond behind our unit. Every year, they show up slowly and begin to have adorable babies. And every year, we make sure we spent as much time as we can feeding them and watching them. We have about sixty ducks living out there now, give or take a few. There are more in the other ponds in our complex. Between us throwing bread and grapes, the kids who love feeding them, and the elderly couple who throws out seed, they are a well taken care of bunch.
A few weeks ago, we noticed a solitary goose swimming alongside the ducks. Initially, I wasn’t happy about it. I’ve never seen a goose and been happy to be near it. They’re generally mean from what I’ve seen, chasing people and appearing menacing. This goose, however, was different. He had a terrible limp and one of his wings was damaged, unable to fold down properly. He had a heck of a time getting in and out of the water, as there are numerous rocks to navigate over. He was a sweet and strange bird.
We fed him along with the ducks. He was a brave thing, taking the bread right out of my hand in a curiously gentle way. Duds, with his tongue hanging out of his beak, often gets annoyed by the quickness of the ducks who will take bread he’s dropped from right underneath him. If he is so much as bumped by a duck or a flying piece of bread, he looks as if he goes into a panic, beak open wide and wings spread out everywhere. He follows the ducks up to our back porch and follow them back to the water when we went back inside. As the days passed, his limp got better and better until it was no more. His wing finally folded down properly and, two weeks ago, we saw him awkwardly take flight for the first time.
We named him Duddits, as he reminded us of the character from Dreamcatcher. I’m pretty sure whatever damaged his body also damaged his brain a bit, but he’s still pretty awesome. Every afternoon, we go out back and Duddits comes to see us and steal bread. Recently, he’s learned that he can get us to come out and see him by tapping his beak on our back door and peering through the blinds until he sees movement. Between him and the ducks, we’re outside at least once a day to see our feathered friends.
I like to think that, in some small way, we helped Duddits get healthy again. Eventually, he will fly south for the winter and that will be the last we see of him. It sounds silly, but that awkward bird truly made our summer. He was such an oddity and we had so much fun sitting out back with him and his duck friends. Our son thinks he is the coolest bird ever, and he’s right. I hate how attached I get to random animals, as I’m going to be seriously heartbroken once he’s gone. But who knows… maybe somehow Duds will find us again next summer and be once again tapping on our back door, looking for a handout.
If you have yet to finish the True Blood series, close this window now and step away from your computer. If you watched the finale last night along with me, read on. The seventh season of True Blood came to a close last night, ending the series and bidding farewell to a cast of characters I had mostly come to love. One thing I enjoyed during seasons 1 through 6 was the constant cliffhanger endings. My husband and I would find ourselves binge watching because the episode endings were so good and left so many unanswered questions that we just had to watch one more. And one more. Season 7 seemed to forget that this was a good idea. They seemed to forget a lot of things.
In the very first episode, Tara dies during the battle with the Hep V vampires. Arlene, Holly and Nicole are kidnapped. Eric is still missing. Sam’s secret is revealed. It was one hell of a start to what I thought was going to be a great season. When Pam finally finds Eric, we see that he is infected with Hep V and near death. As one of my favorite characters, I was devastated to see this. I was even more devastated when Alcide is suddenly shot and killed. And even more again when Bill finds himself infected with Hep V that, due to Sookie’s fairy blood, is accelerated and killing him quickly. The small but vocal doctor Eric uses for emergencies comes to aid Bill but panics when she realizes that Sookie’s fairy blood is royal and flees without assisting. We never learn why she was alarmed, which is frustrating.
Seeing as how two very important characters are dying of Hep V, I felt confident that a cure would be found. And it was; Sarah Newlin drank an entire vile of the cure back at the compound where Hep V was created, making her blood the one thing that could cure Bill and Eric. The Yakanomo Corporation decides to synthesize her blood and make “New Blood,” a drink similar to Tru Blood that would work to hold the Hep V symptoms at bay without curing the vampire completely. Supply and demand and all that. They force Eric and Pam to work with them, which seems silly seeing as how Eric is a thousand year old cured vampire who could kill these humans in a millisecond if he wants to.
Sookie being Sookie is able to discover that Sarah is the cure and is being held in the Fangtasia dungeon. She gets a group together and breaks in so Bill can be cured. But Bill, worried that his darkness will keep Sookie from being happy, refuses the cure and says he wishes to die. Naturally everyone is pissed, but we still have this final episode for him to change his mind. We’ve already seen Lettie Mae resolve her battle in bidding farewell to Tara through vamp blood hallucinations, so she is absent from the finale. As is Lafayette, one of the best characters this show has to offer. We get a heavy dose of Jessica and Hoyt, who are holding a marriage ceremony so Bill is able to give her away at the altar. I get that it was meant to be seen as one of Bill’s dying wishes, but I don’t see why we had to dedicate so much time to this couple. Bill also makes Andy, his last living relative, promise that he will allow the newlyweds to live in his house basically rent free. It was a sweet gesture and overall a sweet wedding, but it wasted too much of the episode.
The story that deserved a lot of attention was given nearly none at all. Pam tags Sarah with her blood and lets her flee, able to track her easily due to her constant fear. Eric and Pam then reveal to Gus Jr and the yakuza thugs that they let Sarah go. Gus Jr takes off after Sarah, and Eric and Pam kill them all in about five seconds. It was painfully simple and wrapped up a main story as if it was nothing. It left me wondering why the hell they didn’t do this as soon as Gus Jr revealed that they were able to synthesize a version of Sarah’s blood. They were no longer needed by then, yet Eric allowed them to get in his way for what seemed like forever. It made no sense.
One surprise was Sookie being able to read Bill’s thoughts during the wedding. Fairies are unable to read vampire thoughts, so this was a new one. My thinking was that fairy blood mixed with Hep V was somehow making Bill human again. Instead of dying from the virus, he would become mortal once again, able to give Sookie what she deserved in a human lover rather than one that is dead and filled with darkness. But no, I was wrong. Or was I? We’ll never find out because Bill insisted he die in his burial plot at the hands of Sookie. Not willing to part with her light, she staked Bill as he lay in his coffin, reducing him to a steaming pile of goo. Seven years, fans have watched these two go back and forth, and this is the ending they are given? None of it felt right. It was quite possibly the worst way to say farewell to Bill.
Afterwards, Sookie walks home in tears and covered in pieces of Bill. We then get that “one year later,” “four years later” nonsense so we can see where everyone has gone from here. We thankfully get more Eric and Pam, who are filming informercials for New Blood and raking in dough. They still have Sarah chained in the Fangtasia dungeon and are charging a hundred grand a pop for her blood. It was a perfect ending for those two, but the entire finale was too light on them. We needed more Eric and Pam. We always do. Their story was the only good part of the entire farewell. We see Sookie and Jason hosting a Thanksgiving dinner. Jason is married to Hoyt’s ex, Brigette, and has three kids in tow. We get the smallest glimpse of Lafayette and James. Sookie is very pregnant and her faceless husband sits at the head of the table. Sam makes a return with his wife and now two children. Everyone is happy happy.
I don’t feel satisfied with the series end. I found it silly that Jessica married Hoyt at all, seeing as how eager she was to get away from him before. It also seemed odd because she had only recently reconnected with Jason, then forgot all about him and went to Hoyt. Jason and Hoyt basically swapped lovers and both found true happiness. Everyone seems to have found true happiness in another person; the entire table at the end was a parade of happy couples. Even Pam and Eric, although not a traditional couple, have found happiness together. I like a happy ending as much as the next person, but I can’t help but feel cheated by it all. I also can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Bill was left alone and found that the mutated virus restored his humanity. Overall, I could have done without this entire season. If you watched, please leave your opinion and feedback in the comments. I need to know that I’m not the only one left feeling empty after last night.
I had a slight(ly huge) obsession with The Real L Word on Showtime. Beautiful women whose lives were filled with drama, love and heartbreak, and truly wonderful personal journeys. When the last season wrapped, I was happy to see two weddings but sad to see the series come to a close. A couple of days ago, I saw a promo on Showtime for L Word Mississippi: Hate The Sin. I missed the premiere, but made sure to record it the next time it was on.
The title was a bit off-putting, but nothing could have prepared me for what I witnessed for the next 90 minutes. I have experienced my fair share of discrimination. As a multi-racial person, I’ve gotten the question “what are you” more times than I care to remember. When I lived in Georgia, I came face to face with the KKK and was made to feel less than human in my high school. I grew up knowing what homosexuality was due to a gay second cousin, so I never gave it a second thought, but was always disgusted with the challenges my LGBT friends would face. Even today, I see their struggles and it gets to me. Because I’m not sheltered at all, I didn’t expect to be as shocked as I was at the stories from Mississippi.
L Word Mississippi began with the clear message that it’s not okay to be gay. There is no holding hands in public, no kissing your girlfriend at the market, and no being free to live and love as you choose. The religious community in Mississippi is massive, and that is a major factor in why the struggle for these women is so great. “Praying the gay away” is thought to be something you can do. Even some of the women featured on this documentary pray to save their own souls from their so-called sinful lives. They have found love, but due to the teachings of the church, believe that love to be wrong and want to be saved and find a man to love.
Rene’s story had my jaw on the floor, especially after we were introduced to her son, Devin. Rene spent her life dressing masculine and even stuffing a strap-on down her pants in order to feel more like a man. She stopped and began trying to dress and act more feminine after finding Jesus a year earlier. Her son came out as gay a few years ago and she blames herself completely. I dare anyone to look at Rene and Devin and try to tell me that being gay is a choice and not simply the way you’re born. It’s beyond painful to watch Rene deny who she is in order to appease the church and the community. It’s worse when she tries to impose those twisted beliefs on her son, who is happy to be who he is.
The other relationships we get to see in this documentary are truly beautiful. Cameron and Amber are such a loving couple, and lucky enough to have a support system in the Per2yon Family, but you can still see the pain on their faces. The level of hatred and ignorance they have to face is beyond my understanding and I give them so much credit for being strong each and every day. Sara, who is expecting a baby boy, struggles with not only being a lesbian and the stigma that is attached to that, but is dealing with her wife transitioning into becoming her husband. BB, a former pastor, is trying to right the wrongs of her past by helping LGBTQ youth so they don’t feel lost, ostracized, and suicidal. The “love the sinner, hate the sin” message is strong, but it’s clear that the actual feelings of the community is “hate the sin, shame the sinner.”
I don’t want to elaborate any further because I want everyone to please look this documentary up and watch it. Regardless of your beliefs or level of acceptance, please watch this with an open mind and heart. I want you to be as shocked as I was that this type of hatred and ignorance is not only still incredibly present, but is so widespread. I am grateful for all the women involved for sharing their stories and hope that as more people see L Word Mississippi, more people begin to realize that it’s not the LGBTQ community that needs to change. It’s the rest of us.
I was hit with a low blow today. Scratch that. I was hit with a fucking mack truck. My heart felt as if it was going to leap out of my chest and dance across my desk. My hands were sweaty and my skin clammy. My appetite was nowhere to be seen and I was ready to sell my soul for a soothing shot of whiskey or tequila.
I’ve been very absent from the world of blogging lately due to my inability to properly handle stressful situations without becoming a useless, shaking blob of jelly. I’m angry and I don’t know where to direct my rage and how to keep it from burning down the world around me. I want to scream and cry and throw things until they break. I want to confront the reason for my distress and beat it into the ground. Yet here I sit, doing nothing.
As badly as I wanted to fly off the handle earlier today, I held it in and removed myself from the situation as quickly as I knew how. I’ve shed a few tears, but have kept myself from falling into a full out sob. Nothing is broken (yet). I’m trying to fix it, but I feel like I should know why it happened in the first place, and that is one question that will never get a good answer.
I’m glad I didn’t see the smirk and sarcastic wave earlier today from the wrecking ball that destroyed my world today. My situation would have been irreparable if I had seen that, as I have no doubt that someone would have gotten their teeth punched into the back of their skull. At some points, I’m so amazed by what happened that I can’t even be angry. But of course I can. I am angry. Justifiably so. But anger won’t solve any problems. I have to go forward. I have to move on. And a month from now, maybe a year from now, you damn well better believe I’ll be laughing in your stupid, smirky face, you intolerable bastard.