Segues and The Truth

Segue…to one super great song, below!

“Brave” by Idina Menzel

I don't know
Just where I'm going and tomorrow
It's a little overwhelming
And the air is cold
And I'm not the same anymore
I've been running
In your direction for too long now
I've lost my own reflection
And I can't look down
If you're not there to catch me when I fall

If this is the moment
I stand here on my own
If this is my rite of passage
That somehow leads me home
I might be afraid
But it's my turn to be brave
If this is the last chance
Before we say goodbye
At least it's the first day of the rest of my life
I can't be afraid
'Cause it's my turn to be brave

All along
All I ever wanted was to be the light
When your life was daunting
But I can't see mine
When I feel as though you're pushing me away
Well, who's to blame?
Are we making the right choices?
'Cause we can't be sure
If we're hearing our own voices as we close the door
Even though we are so desperate to stay

If this is the moment
I stand here on my own
If this is my rite of passage
That somehow leads me home
I might be afraid
But it's my turn to be brave
If this is the last chance
Before we say goodbye
At least it's the first day of the rest of my life
I can't be afraid
'Cause it's my turn to be brave
Oh oh, yeah, oh

And I might still cry
And I might still bleed
These thorns in my side
This heart on my sleeve
And lightning may strike
This ground at my feet
And I might still crash
But I still believe

This is the moment I stand here all alone
With everything I have inside everything I own
I might be afraid but it's my turn to be brave
If this is the last time before we say goodbye
At least it's the first day of the rest of my life
I can't be afraid it's my turn to be brave

The word, “segue,” pronounced seg-way, is actually defined as “an uninterrupted transition from one piece of music or film scene to another.”

I’ve been working on part two of the follow-up post to my last blog entry entitled “They Said It Would Be Fun,” but I kept stumbling and getting distracted. So, I figured it’s about time to admit that not all stories come with perfect segues… definitely not mine. Between September, 2008 and the Spring (March, to be exact) of 2010 the kids and I had already moved four times in just over a year, not of our choosing, but which landed us at Rental #3. The “paper promises” Al, (and his crew of henchmen) negotiated, and to which I signed my life away in 2008 had long since expired, and my two kids and I were fighting just to keep our heads above water, navigating our individual experiences, and a collective new world as best we could. I was so deeply mired in legal bullsh**, life hardly made sense.  Our future appeared awfully daunting, and I was struggling. My only solace was found for a couple hours each evening in the family/tv room of Rental #3 with my kids, dinner, TV or a movie…and the addition of Em’s new boyfriend, Alex. We would settle on a show, get totally involved when a commercial would interrupt; Alex had gotten comfortable enough by then to reach for the remote and forward through the commercials in order to get immediately back to the show. It took me a little while, maybe a week to two before I felt emboldened enough to act on my irritation at his presumptuous behavior, probably attributed to the plethora of nerve-wracking legal entanglements and the accompanying surly mood, which occupied most days. One evening though, following another “fast forward,” I looked Alex’s way and said, “hey, stop…why are you doing that? I like the commercials and I need a little “segue.” I think I surprised even myself, when I snapped at him like that? Why mention this now, you ask? Well firstly, I think it’s because I was so totally off-target, and incorrect in my usage of the word “segue.” The remaining reasons would probably be too long to recount and aren’t relevant anymore.

For starters, not only had I chastised Alex, put him on the spot and probably embarrassed him, but I had been incorrect while doing so and damn, I hate when that happens! Real segues, and smooth transitions, were an unknown in my world, but my need for mental pauses was something I was quite accustomed to, and found comforting. I’m going to call those pauses “anti-segues.” By that specific moment in time, I felt like my world was just one big stop, and restart. Two steps forward, and five steps back. That little routine had become a very familiar, if unsettling, set of moves. I’m pretty sure I executed those steps almost as well as I would have done with the other type of “Segway,” you know the wheeled, platform-board thingie, that you stand on while cruising down the road. Which by the way, sounds like a another surefire, guaranteed trip to the E.R. involving more stitches or potentially worse… with me at the helm.  

My continued need for, or habit of seeking, anti-segues today isn’t about a TV remote or a life consumed by legal battles any longer. It’s more like a self-imposed time out, or an opportunity to reset and pivot…a need which is as valid today as ever.

While I’ve been working on finishing the follow-up/part two, to my last blog post, “They Said It Would Be Fun,” in typical fashion, there’s a loop of “white-noise” providing background for this process and has included a variety of stimuli, like my “Blessed” playlist of songs on “Siri,” a new streaming series “The Lincoln Lawyer,” which despite the absence of Matthew McConaughey, is still pretty addicting and totally worth the watch! Then too, there are the intermittent moments I catch a glimpse of the absurdity which occupies the live footage from the defamation case “heard” round the world (pun intended), combined with several hours of news coverage. With the grim realities that consumed last week, and the devastating news from Texas taking top billing (deservedly so) I still managed to take in the testimony portion of Friday’s trial/circus finale.  After watching closing arguments, I found myself “spinning” again, and at a pretty quick clip too…but why?  I thought I put that “monster” to bed after my 4/27/22 blog post; guess not? I’m still trying to understand and get to the root of the intense visceral response that this bizarre trial and its “stars” has awakened?   

Right about now, I know that when my daughter reads, edits, and puts this into the website formatting thing that I have no clue how to operate (if she even gets that far), she might not embrace that I went down this “rabbit hole” and will do her darndest to talk me out of the whole thing.  She’s always reminding me not to go political, or get too “newsy.” “Just tell your story, Mom…don’t get down in the weeds. There’s no need for constant documentation, or pictorial examples to prove your point; you’re NOT in court anymore.”  I sincerely appreciate her wanting to keep me focused and far away from being too polarizing, but this time, it’s not about either of those things. This time, “getting down in the weeds” IS actually about me, my experience and my story! The “accounting for” or reality of my story does not resemble anything close to the disturbing mess/trial we’ve been watching play out via live coverage on so many online sources; my favorite being the “Law & Crime network,” but there are many.  Judging from the panel of commentators on Law & Crime’s coverage, together with the litany of comments I’ve seen or “heard” on TV, plus the others relayed to me from other sources (I’m still banned from social media so I can’t read all the vitriol for myself), so far, from what I can tell, the overwhelmingly enormous majority of support is being directed towards the Plaintiff. Why is that, I find myself wondering? Personally, I find both the Plaintiff and Defendant repugnant, and don’t believe 99% of the words that escape their mouths. Remembering that the two “stars” in the trial are actors and could potentially be delivering the performances of a lifetime…maybe even award winning, doesn’t exactly inspire much, or any, sympathy in me for either of them. But, on the flip side of that, if one doesn’t already exist, who knows if this drama won’t spark some enterprising branch of the entertainment world proposing an award mechanism to recognize “court testimony” as a new category of theatrical achievement?

GOOD HEAVENS, IF THE STATEMENT ILLUSTRATED ABOVE IS TRUE, I’LL BET BOTH THE PLAINTIFF AND DEFENDANT MUST BE EXHAUSTED?

Firstly, please understand I don’t know one single person involved in this whole tragic and very public airing of “Dirty Laundry,” and think that the entire notion would be best limited strictly to song, as so perfectly executed by The Eagles! Oh, but wait…that song is precisely about this very type of mess, isn’t it? If you’ve never “heard” the song before, now’s definitely a good time to give it a listen. Anyways, I digress…back to the business of dirty laundry and why this particular “pile” of it, might have gotten so under my skin.

I’ve mentioned it in the past, but it may be worth repeating for purposes of this particular post, I had a VERY brief “go” in the world of Hollywood, working for both Aaron Spelling, as “low man” on the totem pole and 4th in line of personal assistants and, subsequently, at The William Morris Agency, again as an assistant. Both stints showed me that I, more than likely, wasn’t ideally suited for the entertainment business, not due to the occurrence of any negative events; I simply had no burning fire inside pulling me towards any single aspect of the industry, and unbridled drive and passion is pretty much essential to succeed in the field of entertainment.  I’ll reiterate again, though just to be perfectly clear…I never had one bad, nor even slightly questionable experience with those companies. There was no “Me Too” moment, not one false hand was ever laid on me, at either place. Quite the contrary, Aaron Spelling was very honest when he told me right up front during my third interview, he was only hiring me because of my first name, which was also, apparently, the nickname he called his wife. Great no biggie; I got to help coordinate and attend a couple “wrap parties” and was provided well over a year of some pretty interesting “sightseeing.” I can still remember the “studio lot’s” address…1040 No. Formosa and the lunches at nearby Formosa Café.  

So too my time at William Morris was strictly positive, and insightful. My boss ended up being a super cool guy, a kind of buddy/father figure type, who not only taught me how to throw a wicked Football spiral, but who’s two young boys I used to baby sit, and who also wrote me a glowing letter of recommendation when I was ready to leave El Camino Drive and WMA.

Could it be that my ire and personal perspective about this particular “hot-button” topic evolved from a meeting which followed a year or two later after my entertainment industry stint? I’d give solid odds on that wager! In some alternative-universe, kind of way, I see so much of the Plaintiff from this defamation trial, paralleling characteristics of my “ex,” and have found myself oddly glued to the “hot mess” that’s unfolded over the past seven weeks, recognizing the attention and power both “personas” clearly crave. The man who would eventually become the father of our two kids, my husband, and “partner” of 19 years, was immensely talented too, in his chosen profession, and was equally narcissistic, with one huge difference. Al was not a drug addict; he hardly drank more than one glass of wine, ever! His addictions were different from the Plaintiff’s in this trial.  As far as I know, or knew, there was no chemical substance fueling Al’s behavior, or pushing his buttons? Rather…control, manipulation and the adrenaline of making “deals” were the source of Al’s obsessions!  Whether “it,” (any given deal) happened to involve art, a new property, car, business, women, or the screwing over of someone, mattered little.  So too, my use of the term partner couldn’t be more loosely used than in this connotation. But that reality wasn’t something I would learn immediately; it would be revealed in bits and pieces, and I wouldn’t be able to connect all the dots to realize that truth until late…really, really late in the game. Regardless of how late I discovered it, the fact remains that Al and I, were anything but partners. Regardless of all the instances and events that could or should have sent up red flares signaling danger from the very beginning, signs that I should turn and run as fast as I possibly could in any other direction over the first few months, even first few years of being with him, didn’t matter; none of the lessons stuck.  I genuinely believed Al’s 1st sales pitch and desperately wanted to buy into the magic he initially presented and sold HARD…like way beyond the sale!  For a while at least, he made me feel special, and who doesn’t like to feel special. I was accompanying him and his car buddies to Pebble Beach, The Hamptons, and European car events.  I was one of very few women who had a seat at the table with automobile icons like Carroll Shelby, Vern Schuppan, various other “power players” as well as owners of major car Auction Houses of the time…Barrett-Jackson, Cole & Yacoobian, etc… My expression was wide-eyed, and nothing short of awestruck, when my then “boyfriend,” raised his paddle at an auction to buy the Rothman’s Porsche which had not only won Le Mans, but who’s purchase price was in the 7-figure, digit zone. Prior to those experiences, I always thought I hailed from a middle-class, yet fairly privileged family and background, but what I was being exposed to during those first few years with Al was like nothing else I had ever known. Between the cars and real estate which he (allegedly) owned, combined with the assortment of characters whose circles we travelled within (Saudi Arabian Princes, an Iranian businessman turned Steel Tycoon operating from Azerbaijan, Retail, and Hotel Empire owners across the globe, and one ex-con thrown in for good measure (at least I think there was only one of those) mixed together with the glamorous places we visited and the vast collection of “art” Al acquired, my new world was intimidating…to be sure.  The lows of Al’s often dark, frightening mood swings were rivalled only by the highs, which always included devout proclamations of love, extravagant gifts, trips, and so too…by then there was a baby to consider. The big picture though wasn’t what was first and foremost in my sight, very mistakenly! Most of his early occasions of ugliness, backed up my gut-instincts and reinforced my shame at his consistent belittling of my intelligence, but were outweighed by the fantasy of the man who initially presented himself and was anything, or everything, but real. Again, however, in the long-term, the occasions of his animus lost out to my sentimental, almost suicidal mission to keep that man in my life. By the time we were married, and our first child was almost two years of age, I had already left him twice. Regardless, Al’s pleas and appeals to my naïve vulnerability prevailed over any kind of rational thought. That’s on me to be sure…my bad! Add to that an embezzlement suit served upon Al three months following our wedding, combined with my simplistic “stand by your man,” old-fashioned kind of crap, and then with the addition of a second baby thrown in the mix…this time a “boy child,” once again, any reason went out the window. Apparently, fathering a son to an Italian man is akin to hitting the lottery, a milestone of unprecedented importance. To me, all children are gifts, regardless of their sex, but when A.J. appeared in the hospital delivery room that May 12th, Mother’s Day, with Al present for this go-round, I was utterly unprepared for his obvious emotion, the tears which rolled down his face, or the reckless display of enthusiasm he displayed while throwing up his arms in the air, exclaiming, “I didn’t think this was possible!” My Mom was also in the delivery room that day, as Al wasn’t originally sure “he would be able to deal with or stomach the whole experience;” you’d have thought he was the one pushing out an 8 lb, 14 oz baby for all the histrionics he expressed? Mom delighted in the retelling of that moment. I think Al’s rarely exhibited but raw emotion displayed that afternoon somehow reassured my mother that Al held the potential to be a decent, feeling, human? Pretty sure, she had not thought so previously, and as it turned out, her original impression was to be her lasting one.  

Fast forward ~ Friday, May 27th 2022…

Closing arguments in the now notorious defamation trial had been “heard,” and I despised the feeling gnawing at my insides. While I watched the lawyers give their summations, it seemed like the entire crux of the trial (“defamation”) was glossed over, in favor of portraying to the jury, and the world, which party in the case was more odious? Towards that end, the actual point and issue of the trial appeared all but moot, as both “characters” obviously possess heinous tempers, vile behavior and incredibly horrid judgement. From my personal experience, I believe the legal team representing the Plaintiff in this trial presented a far better showing and were definitely more effective communicators than the Defendant’s counsel. But does the superior “dog and pony show,” either negate or prove the allegation of defamation?  I don’t think so, and from a strictly legal position, it shouldn’t. But to be really real and authentic here, does it even matter?

In order to prove defamation, the Plaintiff bears the burden of proving beyond any doubt that the Defendant was never, not even once, the victim of abuse!  And at the end of the day, I don’t believe either the Plaintiff or Defendant are victims of anything other than their own, self-obsessed, attention seeking, toxic obsession with their careers, and at some point, each other. They’re both pretty twisted, self-absorbed, loathsome individuals in my book.

This is where things get dicey! On some subconscious level, I see and can draw certain parallels between Al, my ex, and this Plaintiff.  I’ve been “taken in” (not in a good, kindly way) by a man of power, influence, wealth, convenient charm, and one with a hugely narcissistic personality. Moreover, those qualities combined with a staggeringly complex, and extensive trail of emotional baggage, the likes of which have been on display in this trial, make for one heck of a train wreck to live through, much less survive.  A collision of such magnitude is challenging to ignore. The other side of the coin, however, is the “persona” which throngs of people long for, and CHOOSE to see.  A revered, successful, talented and catered-to, individual who wields power, influence, and wears a mask that is only occasionally removed, usually reserved for either the closest of their circle, or those on the “gravy-train,” sounds tragically familiar. In these character’s stories, there are massive amounts of other individuals and feelings, which don’t matter in the least. That vast array of others never “see” the unmasked persona. The list of individuals who obtain some kind of reward or satisfaction, even if it’s just the “dangling carrot of promise” from such people is long…very, very long. Those Al/“Plaintiff” types make it their mission to cultivate, gather and assemble a devoted following of hangers-on. New targets, new supply, new energy, new perks…all focused on them is one huge turn-on. That’s not something that others who don’t possess that same formula, or genetic make-up, can easily understand, nor have much chance of surviving…intact, especially if they’re ultimately deemed disposable. Being one of the ones who doesn’t really matter, or are just there to serve a specific function, readily discarded and replaced when the time comes is a hurtful realization and eventuality…but that list included me! Maybe, that’s why I feel so impassioned about this damn trial, and am willing to speak out regarding the sham of it all?

SEE THAT ADORABLE LITTLE BROWN AND WHITE PAPILLION? HER NAME IS CORALIE, NAMED AFTER MY AUNT WHO PASSED YEARS AGO, AND WAS THE PERSON WHO’S LIFE AND MEMORY WE HONORED THE DAY BEFORE I ACQUIRED WHAT WAS THEN A CUTE LITTLE, 10-WEEK OLD PUPPY. THAT SHE BORE MY AUNT’S NAME MAY ALSO BE THE SOLE REASON I’VE KEPT HER FOR THE ENTIRETY OF HER 12 YEARS OF LIFE ON EARTH THUS FAR?  THAT LITTLE BUNDLE OF FUR HAS TURNED OUT TO BE A TOTAL SPITFIRE WITH MORE ATTITUDE THAN I COULD EVER IMAGINE STUFFED INTO SUCH A TINY 3 LB. DIVA PACKAGING. REGARDLESS OF THE REASONS CORALIE HAS MANAGED TO SOLIDIFY HER SPOT ON “THE TEAM,” THAT SAME LITTLE “BIAATCHH” HAS ABSOLUTELY “DROPPED A GRUMPY” ON MY BED…MORE THAN ONCE!  SUCH AN EVENT USUALLY DICTATES THAT POOR, LITTLE CORALIE SLEEPS IN A CRATE FOR THE NEXT FEW NIGHTS, BUT IT ALSO NORMALLY PROVIDES FOR SEVERAL SUBSEQUENT MONTHS OF GOOD BEHAVIOR. I SUPPOSE IT’S A GOOD THING THAT THE CRATING OF HUMANS IS FROWNED UPON?

My point is this…aside from the “catchy” new phrase coined by “Plaintiff,” such an occurrence is neither funny, nor really a rarity, but it hardly compares to the foul equivalent of an adult human doing the same?

Having been judged more times than I can count for any number of sins, attributes, or whatever else…I try to remember, that until you’ve walked in another person’s shoes, you have no basis for judgement, that is unless you’re assigned a position on a jury. So now this poor jury pool, who has sacrificed over seven weeks of their life watching this farcical charade unfold in order to serve their civic duty, is in the unique position to decide the fate, be it personal, professional or financial success, of two individuals who, in all seriousness, should really just consider checking themselves into mental institutions.

Right about now, I can’t help but think of the 21 REAL victims, their families, friends and the community, subjected to the destruction and devastation meted out by a sick, crazed teenager in Uvalde, Texas last Tuesday.  I also can’t stop feeling disgust at the damage that the Defendant in this “Defamation Trial/Bizzarro World” has done to harm the efforts of all those who fight for the rights of legitimate victims and survivors of domestic violence and abuse, in whatever form it may take, all across the planet. Did the Defendant give one iota of thought to the actual people and REAL VICTIMS who may now suffer further as a result of her “performance,” degrading the real issue of abuse and making a complete mockery of this dark evil which has plagued society for so very long? Potentially she has succeeded in setting back the progress of empowering brave women and/or men for decades? I hope that’s not the case? If she did think about anyone other than herself, for even a heartbeat, she definitely didn’t display any degree of empathy in a way that would support her role as an Ambassador, representing and championing the rights of the many victims of abuse!

What about the Mother of three, who is beaten, walks on eggshells every day, fears for her children’s and her own survival, but might be too terrified to escape the situation, or doesn’t have either the resources or connections to make leaving possible? Pretty certain that woman doesn’t have a “PR” person ready to film her at the courthouse and attend to the details of “pushing” her story to the tabloids?  What about the individual who is manipulated and controlled by a vengeful narcissist for decades with threats, power plays, serious financial gamesmanship, and a total absence of conscience but because the narcissist’s target doesn’t have “pictorial evidence” of bruising under their eyes, or a sliced finger, they are left to navigate a different kind of jungle? What about them?  If I were this judge, I’d have wanted to slam the gavel down on this case weeks ago, putting an end to the show that’s been played out by these two, petulant and outrageously self-absorbed “actors” on trial, all taking place at taxpayer expense. But then, all “the extras” and numerous others wouldn’t have gotten their “five minutes of fame” either, would they?     

MY EX NEVER RAISED A HAND TO ME..EVER, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I LEFT OUR MARRIAGE UNSCATHED…OR AS AL WOULD SAY, “DAMAGED GOODS.”

I’ve never seen anything that the Plaintiff nor the Defendant has performed in prior to this trial and to be clear… I never intend to!  I don’t think I’m speaking out of turn when I say the Plaintiff appears to be an effective, enigmatic, even gifted performer, right?  But come on…for real? I don’t know, nor have I ever encountered or “heard” of a person born and raised in Kentucky, then Florida and other United States locales, who possesses such a calculated, yet varying and “affected” manner of speech? The Plaintiff’s obvious command of linguistics and theatrical effects, particularly when in the spotlight is nothing short of brilliant, but then that is his profession, right? The Defendant may, or may not, have proved much legally, but she definitely demonstrated how truly disturbed a person craving attention can be. The toxic back and forth taunting, and the teasingly maniacal dance she engaged in, when presented with multiple opportunities to make an exit is a testament to insanity, on a whole new level.

Madeline Albright, former United States Secretary of State, once, very famously, said “There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.” At the time, she was referring to a certain future, female Presidential candidate, and while I’ll probably never embrace Madeline’s sentiment regarding that specific “piece of work,” and obviously have little regard for this Defendant, who ONLY succeeded in proving beyond any reasonable doubt, that she cares little for any woman other than herself, it was the seemingly odd idolization by one of the Plaintiff’s attorneys for her client which registered such a high frequency on my creep radar!  Any female lawyer, who can sit next to a monstrous addict, self-admitted deviant, and completely disregard, or rationalize his savage written testimonies, wishing and/or promising to exact threats of depraved violence, even death, as simple examples of the “Plaintiff’s special way of communicating and merely jocular comments” may have indeed earned herself the title of…talented lawyer, but also one who may need to do a bit of self-reflection and soul-searching? Maybe, and alternatively, she could just star in the role of the Plaintiff’s next leading lady?  She certainly seemed to pass her “chemistry test for the part” with flying colors?

It occurred to me as I finished writing this piece… Wait, who consented to and allowed for the live TV coverage of this trial? Does a Judge make that determination? Do the attorneys? Do the individual parties in the case get to weigh in…or perhaps, INSIST on live video coverage?  Something to ponder and consider, right?

Maybe both Plaintiff and Defendant just pulled off the coup of a decade? The trial was a low-budget film to be sure, but certainly one that grabbed the attention of millions? I sincerely doubt that since the beginning of Covid, any “box-office film” has generated this much buzz or stirring of emotion?  What do you think…is there an “Oscar nod” somewhere in sight?

"Staying's Worse Than Leaving" by Sunny Sweeney

Leaving's hard...trust me, it's really bad
It'll shake ya, damn-near break ya, it always has
You don't go until you're praying to break even,
Until staying's worse than leaving

God knows we tried everything that we could do
You can keep your pride and blame me if you need to
Even though this freedom feels a lot like treason,
I know staying's worse than leaving

It's gotta get better, it can't get worse
Hope it's a blessing not a curse
I don't care who passes judgement on my reasons
I know staying's worse than leaving

It's gotta get better, it can't get worse
Hope it's a blessing not a curse
I don't care who passes judgement on my reasons
I know staying's worse than leaving

Both our hearts let go a long time ago
Words leave scars and Lord knows they heal slow
Our love died but somehow we are both still breathin'
I just hope someday we'll look back on this grievin'
and say, staying's worse than leaving
Yeah, that staying's worse than leaving

Yeah, that staying's...
...worse than leaving

THIS SONG, AND ITS MESSAGE COULDN’T FEEL ANY MORE PERSONAL WHEN I SAY IT REPRESENTS THE PAST 15+ YEARS OF MY LIFE.  IT’S TRAGIC TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE REALITY OF WHAT MUST BE MILLIONS WHO HAVE BEEN ABUSED OR REALLY, REALLY WRONGED, REGARDLESS OF HOW THE DAMAGES WERE INFLICTED?  WITH THAT IN MIND, I BEG ANYONE WHO HAS, OR POTENTIALLY STILL DOES LIVE WITH THAT KIND OF EXPERIENCE TO, PLEASE, UNDERSTAND THERE ARE REAL AND LEGITIMATE SOURCES OF SUPPORT OUT THERE. TAKE A DEEP BREATH, PAUSE, REGROUP, AND TRULY KNOW IN YOUR HEART… “STAYING’S WORSE THAN LEAVING,” AND…YOUV’E GOT THIS!