Swing a dead cat and you'll hit a personality test.  They've been around for ages.  The "most accurate" changes every few years.  For the record, I've been designated a Sanguine on one and an EN[F/T]P on another.  I don't think I've taken the newest and "greatest," yet.

But this isn't about any of that, not really.  It's about something I discovered for myself in Second Grade, and expanded on in late-Middle/early-High School.  I'm about to share with you my views on the Four Types of People in Social Interactions.

First, of course, you have Leaders.  Next, naturally, are the Followers.  These two have a symbiotic relationship.  Third (ironically, since this is the type I discovered last) are what I call "Groupies."  No, not the kind that sleep with celebrities.  Finally, there's the rarest type in the world, and I'm one of them... the Mavericks.

Leaders possess a talent for observing a situation, analyzing it, deciding the best course of action and following it with conviction.  What's more, they are charismatic enough to inspire others to follow them, especially the Followers.  They are compelled to attract followers -- they NEED them, or else they lose their direction.

Followers are kind of like worker bees.  They NEED someone to tell them what to do.  They aren't stupid or weak, necessarily.  They just lack the drive, or maybe the confidence, to take the first step.  Given a goal and a little instruction, they can build World Wonders!

Groupies are the ultimate team-players!  They decide everything in committee, very democratically.  They take their time to discuss and weigh the options and collect a majority consensus.  Sometimes, though, they can get lost in the details.

Mavericks are... different.  Like Leaders, they can observe, analyze, decide and sally forth with conviction -- but they don't particularly care if anyone else follows.  They often possess a healthy charisma, so sometimes they can convince others to follow them, but they lack the compulsion to DEMAND loyalty.  They can follow a Leader for a while, if the Leader manages to convince them that they are WORTH following.  One step off the logical path, and a Maverick will likely wonder off -- usually quietly, sometimes a little dramatically, if there's something or someone they really care about involved.  They can't just stand by and watch someone they love hurt themselves by making bad choices, or refusing to make good ones.  If nobody listens, they'll eventually just #PeaceOut.  Mavericks CAN work with a team, as long as the team doesn't lose an advantage by getting bogged down in minutia.  Mavericks can be a little... impatient.

When I was in First Grade, I moved back to my hometown and rejoined my toddlerhood friends at a local Parochial School.  One of my closest friends had, during my absence, become the de facto Leader of the girls in our class.  Our friendship was tested (and ultimately faded) every time I challenged her choices.  I didn't do it out of rebellion (more on that in a minute) or spite -- I thought I was doing the right thing by pointing out a flaw in her plans.  She didn't like that. 

Very quickly, I found myself on the "outs" with the group -- only tolerated because of my family's position in the community.  All the girls wanted to come to my birthday parties, which were held at my grandmother's house, surrounded by lush gardens (perfect for games of Tag and Hide & Seek) and including a cement tennis court with an outside sound system, so we could roller skate.  Also, my Mom made the BEST birthday cakes!

Things got really bad in Second Grade.  Had I been able to just sorta fade out of the group, I think we'd have all been happier.  But they wanted the connection with me and I really didn't have anyone else to hang with, anyhow, so it was a constant game of tug-of-war -- especially when I managed to get the Followers to follow me, instead.  Again, I didn't coerce anyone.  I just presented a compelling case and started heading in a different direction.  The Followers would follow me for short bit, but once they realized that I wasn't going to give them orders, they'd eventually slink back to the Leader.  I moved to another school the next year.

In my early teens, I joined a 4-H group.  That summer, we all went to Schlitterbahn, a delightful water park on a river about three hours from our home.  We got inside and put our things in our lockers, then everyone gathered to discuss what to do next.  It was a typical hot, humid Texas summer and the spring-fed river was cold and wet.  I did not want to be hot and humid.  I wanted to be cold and wet.  It was early enough that the lines weren't long... yet.  There was a ride just a few feet away with a short line that was starting to grow longer.  My friends were evaluating the possibilities of EVERY ride in the park!!!  I was like, "guys, there's a ride right here.  Let's jump on that one and see where it leads.  Guys, I'm hot... I donwanna be hot.  Guys, it's getting hotter and the lines are getting longer and... oh, nevermind.  Catch ya' later!"  Off I went.  A few hours later, I ran into them again, all still together.  We compared notes on the rides we'd been on, so far.  I'd been on twice as many as they had -- some of them more than once!  Kinda sucked being alone.  Sucked more being hot and humid and waiting in long lines.

So, now you see how I came to define these four types of people.  I promised I'd address the Rebel, so here we go:  Mavericks are often mistaken for Rebels, but we really aren't.  Rebels are actually LEADERS who are in defiance to the Leader currently in charge.  Think about it... how often have Rebels in history gone on to be Leaders?  Rebels either usurp the leadership role, or they die.  They are COMPELLED to lead a throng of Followers to oppose a recognized Leader. 

Mavericks simply lack that compulsion.  Sometimes, we fall into the Hero role, taking the lead when no one else can or wants to and leading the group AWAY from danger -- but they are much less successful at leading them TO anything else (compare George Washington with John Adams).  We're the enigmatic cowboy, the knight errant, the "Oh Captain, My Captain," or "To Sir With Love" teacher, the whistleblower.  We'd really love nothing more than to be allowed to "live and let live," but that always seems to offend someone somewhere and we're forced to take action and be seen. 

I'm learning to lead, but I really don't WANT to be a Leader!  I'd really like to be someone's secret weapon.  I've filled that role before and we were both happy -- my old boss was constantly being attacked by the Old Boys' Club, but I kept finding new ways to deflect the blows.  She and I both knew that, as a contractor with her department, I was technically a resource (not an employee) and they couldn't transfer me.  Last I heard, she'd not only survived all the reorgs and buyouts, she was a President of the company!

So, yeah... I'm a Maverick and I always have been.  Yes, I'm also an Extrovert, which can be complicated -- it's like being half Doberman and half Labrador.  I'm not a threat to anyone, except perhaps the status quo.  If you let me, I'll happily be your lap dog AND your attack dog, but not if I'm kept on a leash.  Feed me, pet me and give me the freedom to chase butterflies from time to time.  I'll fetch a few back for you.

Dear 12yo Me;

You've just walked out of Cine 6 after seeing "Return of the Jedi" for the 9th time!  You and Mom white-lied to Daddy about where you were going and what you were doing, but the cat was out of the bag when the car wouldn't start after the movie.  Daddy laughing and telling us he KNEW exactly what we were up to will become a Core Memory... as will the fact that you had officially met your True Love.  You just didn't know it, yet.

You thought it was a schoolgirl infatuation, a pre-teen fantasy.  You prayed you'd grow out of it!  You prayed so hard, you can't pinpoint the moment when you stopped fearing your destiny and just accepted and embraced it.  Newsflash: You never did grow out of that fantasy.  It's what brought to to where you are right now.

After that fateful day in 1983, you lost yourself in a world of make-believe, drowning your grief from the loss of your brother, and the lifestyle that his survival required, in detailed imaginations of running off to "Hollywood" and becoming someone else when the cameras started turning.  You didn't even know where Hollywood was, exactly -- San Francisco, maybe?  Somewhere in California, anyhow.  You swore you'd hop a bus to the West Coast the day you turned 18!  You did not... for reasons.  Ask your 18yo self.


Dear 18yo Me;

It's okay, sweetie.  You did the right thing.  As your 43yo self will tell you someday, Los Angeles (that's where Hollywood is, btw) would have chewed you up and spit you out!  You'd have survived, but it would have taken some hard knocks to realize that.  Growing up in the Most Dangerous Town In Texas (tm) prepared you better than anyone might have imagined, but it would take some time for you to learn how to wield that power. 

I'm proud of you for being wise enough to realize that "running away to Hollywood" when you knew NO ONE there would have been a Very Bad Idea (tm).  Besides, even if you HAD succeeded, it would have turned you into someone you weren't meant to be:  one of the Beautiful People (tm)!  Look, kid... you've always been beautiful and you always will be, but THAT kind of "beautiful" is pretty fucking ugly.  You're better off taking another road.  Don't worry... some grand adventures are right around the corner.  No, I won't tell you about them... SPOILERS!


So, ladies... I'm writing this letter to you from a room in the Millennium Biltmore Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles!  This is your THIRD visit to LA -- you brought your 18yo daughter a year-and-a-half-ago!  Yes, you've been to Hollywood three times, now.  It's pretty okay.  You've found reasons to want to come back and you actually DO have friends here, now!  In fact, you have filmmaking friends (more like family) ALL OVER THE WORLD!!!  But your heart and soul belong to Austin.  Yes, dearies... Austin, Texas.  I know, I know, the teasips, the potheads, the liberals, it's a long story (and they're not as bad as you think). 

Point is, dreams do come true, but not always the way you want or expect them to.  Remember that thing our 7yo self (Hi, baby-girl!  Keep your chin up.  You rock!) discovered about fantasies never happening exactly the way you imagined?  Yeah... that's called "chaos theory" and it's hardly new, but kudos to us for finding and understanding it so young (You're so smart, baby-girl -- your teachers are stupid).  It's still true for us and can be disappointing, but it keeps life interesting, so... at least you're not bored! 

No, you're not rich, either... far from it!  Sometimes you're lonely.  You're ALWAYS stressed, but I'll let you in on a little secret: your mitochondrial DNA is addicted to stress.  Mitochondrial... M-I-T-O... it's the stuff you get from your Mom and her Mom and HER Mom, etc.  Think about it... it makes perfect sense.  Yes, I mentioned a daughter, your firstborn.  You have a son, as well.  I won't tell you more than that because it'll make me cry.  HAPPY tears, ladies!  Calm down.  It's been a week since I saw them and I'm homesick, but I return tomorrow and I have SO much to look forward to -- not the least of which is TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW I'M GONNA GET MY ASS TO CANNES!!!  It's a film festival... a BIG one... in France!  We've been there before, but not this part and it's super special to get to go, so... say a little prayer for your almost 52yo self.  Travel isn't easy on my middle aged joints, but it's worth it. 

Oh, and don't go thinking we're old, now... our generation has aged MUCH better than our parents and grandparents.  We can thank the EPA and a certain little ditty that hit the Top Ten back in the 90's called "Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen)."  Speaking of which, that's the last bit of future advice I'm gonna give you:  Wear Sunscreen!  I love you -- I really do!

Back in 2016, my bestie, Wade, needed a colonoscopy and he asked me to drive him to his appointment and home again afterwards.  I agreed.  At the clinic, we were checked in by a friendly gentleman named Donovan.  It was plain that he had a good sense of humor from the start, AND that he was "our people" -- he was wearing a ring with the Superman insignia.  At one point, Wade made a silly joke about the procedure, asking them to either use TWO cameras, or else to make sure they inserted the one into his mouth, first (as opposed to his ass).  Donovan chuckled and I mentioned that he must have heard that one before.  He hadn't, but he had a list of several others he would frequently hear.  I told him that the office staff oughta make a drinking game outta that list.  He looked up from his paperwork, flashed me two beautiful blue eyes and a charming grin, pointed at me and said, "I like how you think!"  I was smitten!

I complimented his ring and he told us (as he methodically went through all the paperwork, never missing a beat) that he'd once created a popular web comic and regularly attended fandom and comic conventions.  Oh, yes... he was DEFINITELY our people!  I noted his name on his uniform and asked a few more questions... as a former legal secretary, I have some MAD "cyber-stalking" skillz.  He was very pleasant throughout and I just HAD to get to know him better.

I found him on Facebook almost right away, but I didn't act on it.  It was a couple of weeks before I found an excuse to reach out.  I reminded him how we met and that I'd been curious about his artwork because my film project was holding a SciFi Poster Contest... would he like to submit a poster?  He was intrigued and we became FB friends.  His poster wound up winning the contest!  By then, we'd gotten a little better acquainted and I'd learned two things about him:  1) what street he lived on (he told me -- no stalking required) and, 2) that he liked to sing Karaoke.  I invited him to join some friends and me at my fave Karaoke club, which just happened to be on the street where he lived.

That first night hanging out in a non-professional manner accomplished two things: 1) he discovered that I was several years older than he was (I don't look like I was born in the early 70s) and, 2) he called me his "best friend in Austin." *melt* I later realized that he really preferred to date women who were significantly younger, though still well above 18.  I was disappointed, but I hadn't revealed any interest in him, so it was safe for us to stay the course and develop a friendship.  He's been a good friend ever since.  He even called me his "Muse," once!  Gotta admit, I liked hearing that.

For a while, we had a tradition of meeting for Taco Tuesdays.  Tuesdays were his day off from work and, although he hailed from Iowa, he LOVED tacos (who doesn't?).  We were determined to seek out and try as many taco joints as we could find.  We even tried to start a Weird Movie Night at my place about once a month, but it didn't take off -- one friend ghosted us, another had a heart attack (he survived, but had to take things easy), and it seemed awkward for it to just be Donovan and me.  Still, thanks to the few Weird Movie Nights we DID have, I got to see "Zardoz" (I may never forgive him), but I failed to make him watch "Logan's Run."

COVID really put a kink in our friendship, and not in a good way.  Seeing as how he worked in a medical office, he didn't want to take ANY chances of catching the disease and putting the patients at risk.  Understandable.  And so, it was two years before we met up again.  We kept in touch via text and FB Messenger, but he'd decided to limit his FB interactions, so we had little to talk about.  I was trying to keep my film project afloat in a virtual format and he was mostly staying home and staying safe.

Once we did start hanging out again, it was with less regularity than before.  Rents were rising like crazy and he was having to take on more overtime hours to pay the bills.  Even subsequent raises couldn't keep up.  Eventually, he came to the realization that he couldn't afford to live in Austin anymore.  He's moving back to Iowa.  Today was our last Taco date -- and on a Monday, no less.

I managed not to openly cry during lunch, though I had to choke back the tears more than once.  The thought of driving around at night, finding a new taco joint and NOT being able to share it with him is just heartbreaking.  Thinking about all the cool places and events in Austin that he never got to experience, that I kept wanting to take him to... it's just not fair!  All that time that we could have grown closer -- COVID robbed it from us.

Visiting his apartment for the first time today, he gave me a tour and described the way things WERE laid out before he started to pack -- there were video games EVERYWHERE!  My son would have loved that!  He also showed me a Phantom of the Opera leatherwork art piece he once made -- I used to play with leatherworking and my daughter has REALLY wanted to learn!  More missed opportunities for connection.  Yes, I still find him very attractive, but I'm not mourning the chance for romance -- he really did become one of my dearest friends.  He was one of the few men I've met who treated me like a PERSON, not a female.  He was straightforward and respectful, even when he was telling a dirty joke.  Do I wish there could have been more?  Sure.  Will I miss him any less for lack of it?  Not in the least.  And I will miss him a lot -- especially after he gave me a parting gift of a miniature knockoff NES for my riders to play in my car.  What a thoughtful way of helping me earn better tips! 

Fortunately, his brother still lives here, so he'll be back for visits.  I've made him promise to give me enough prior notice that I can make time to show him "Logan's Run."  Maybe we can even check out one of the Renn Faires within driving distance -- we tried for two years to make that happen.  He's never been to one.  Maybe he'll get his following back up enough to start going to conventions again and maybe I'll see him at one -- maybe I can convince him to go to AggieCon.  I refuse to believe that this friendship is ending.  I'll make the effort to keep it alive, if he will.  He's just too good of a friend to let slip away.

Still... I'm losing the convenience of a friend and the chance to continue developing a stronger connection, even a platonic one, and in my current state of DESPERATELY craving connections, this really fucking hurts.

"Funeral" tonight (more like an exorcism).

Funeral tomorrow at 2pm for one of my filmmakers.  I didn't know him well, but I knew his teammates.  I'm going to show support.

Made $242 on the app last night PLUS $100 cash tips!  Actually earned a little more, but that's on today's earnings because it was after 4am.

I'm cogitating a budget for the 48HFP this year, starting with our Gross Profits from last year:  $8800.  Gotta try to spend less than this year while earning MORE!  And that's for THREE projects in TWO cities. 

Today is the day I find out where that missing ticket came from and how to deal with it.  I also hope to learn that my new prescription has been approved by the insurance company.  I might even discover just how far my son can get on Khan Academy.  Wish me luck! 

I've been counseled to carve out an hour for myself every "morning," be it a bit of a snooze, some exercise, self care, etc.  Journaling was also highly recommended, so... I'm back!

I'm going through a lot right now.  If anyone is actually reading this, I want to apologize from the start and say that I'm not EXPECTING anyone in particular to see this, like, ever, but locking it kind defeats the purpose.  If anything I write here offends you, I'm sorry.  This is an emotional/mental info dump and it's part of what's keeping me from ending it all.  Admittedly, that thought becomes more comforting every day.

I have so many thoughts, and little time, but I'll be back here tomorrow.  So, I'll start with what's been bugging me the most.  I think I'm losing my old Cepheid friends... and I think I'm okay with it.  We're all older and we have our own lives and challenges.  Most of us are in very different phases of life from each other and very few have made an effort to keep in touch or check in directly with me.  Many still use my "bestie"/ex, Wade, as their conduit to my life, despite our continued Facebook connection.  Most are male, as has always been my habit as a Demi-Girl (if I haven't touched on that before, I will later).  The one friend who HAS made an effort is female, and I guess I shouldn't be surprised.  The older I get, the more I think that the only man on earth who's worth a damn is the one I'm raising... and maybe some of his friends.  I miss my father terribly -- but that, too, is a topic for another day.

Recently, I learned that a friend of mine was in the hospital fighting cancer.  My relationship with his family has always been a little confusing -- I'm never sure if his wife trusts me or what, so when I learned that Wade was coming into town (he's been with his mother since her stroke), I asked if we could go together.

Overall, the visit was quite pleasant.  I was afraid we'd find Thag, a very large, boisterous red-haired man, somewhat diminished.  Quite the opposite!  He was tired, sure, but still his old self.  Still laughing at his situation and cracking sarcastic comments left and right.  At one point, he got a little emotional as he spoke of all the blessings he never expected to receive -- finding good friends, the love of his life, having two beautiful daughters, etc.  It was inspiring!  Especially in the wake of all the monumental challenges he's faced recently -- cancer being just one of them!  I'm trying to hold onto that inspiration as I struggle, myself.

Now, for negative shit.  I've been completely unaware of his struggles because his wife, who only in recent years accepted a connection with me on Facebook, had suddenly eschewed all social media to focus on her web business.  Okay, I get that.  But there had been a Friend Request to Thag, himself, languishing in FB hell for years -- DECADES, even!  That wouldn't be an issue, except that he kept referencing his challenges and saying to Wade, "you know, you read my Facebook."  So, I reminded him that he never accepted my request and he gave me some silly excuse about getting too many spam requests pretending to be me.  Admittedly, I do have two accounts -- one I made shortly after taking on the Austin 48 Hour Film Project because I thought I might need to separate my personal life from my public.  Soon after, I realized that my new film friends took inspiration from my personal struggles, and once Trump was elected, most of my oldest friends and family were estranged from me, anyhow.  The thing is, I have thousands of friends from all over the world.  If my account had been spoofed that often, I'd have surely heard about it... and I haven't.  Once or twice, sure.  And if it mattered, why didn't he seek me out, himself?  Do a little research and due diligence to determine who the REAL Alyne Harding was?  I would have.  But that's just it... it didn't matter to him.  I don't matter.  Despite decades of friendship, fond memories that I'll still cling to in my final years, my efforts to help his daughter when she was hurt... none of that mattered enough to make one simple digital connection.  Wade joined FB long after I did.  Wade's friendship was accepted.  Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but I can't stop it from stinging.

And then there's Wade.  He's been my Bestie for a quarter century since we amicably ended our relationship.  We've had our problems over the years and we've mostly overcome them together.  However, one problem has always lingered.  It was the reason our relationship ended and it may yet spell out the end of our friendship.  Wade never prioritizes me.  He calls me his Bestie, but he exerts more effort to connect with Collette and Andi and even his most recent ex, Monica.  When he does reach out, it always feels like it's from a sense of guilt.  Or maybe fear?  I know so many of Wade's secrets that I won't reveal, but maybe he doesn't trust me to do so?  I just don't know.  And it's not just me -- my kids are effected, too.  So often in the 15 years that we've lived in Austin, Wade has declared a desire to be more involved with my children -- especially since the divorce 10 years ago.  But as often as not, he cancels at the last minute claiming some inconvenient illness -- a headache, tummy issues, etc.  The kids have learned to expect it and they no longer crave his attention as much.  At one time, I think they loved and respected him more than their own father.  Meanwhile, Wade sees the family of our friend Brett every week when he's in town -- often more.  He's at recitals and games and other big events.  At the hospital the other night, he told Thag how much he's benefitted from being around a -- I don't recall exactly the word he used, "healthy," or "normal," or what -- "real family" by spending time with Brett and his wife and kids.  MY children are his godchildren!  They NEEDED him!  But spending time with us makes him sick.  I don't even think he realizes it.  It's too late, now.  Even if I could change things, Lyla (as my daughter now likes to be called) is grown and Buddy is almost there, himself.  He towers over almost every many in his life -- including Wade.  After the hospital, I tried to ask Wade to take Buddy for a haircut because I never seem to have the time.  I told him I could pay for it.  Instead, he texted me the info for his stylist and told me to tell her he sent me.  Maybe he didn't catch the ask.  He's always claiming his ADHD interferes in his ability to catch social cues.  Maybe if he hadn't jumped to conclusions so fast and interrupted me, I could have made myself clearer.

And that's another thing I've noticed:  Wade always interrupts me.  I could barely get a word in edgewise in the hospital room, and one time that I did, he reached over and gently scratched my knee, as if to scold me for jumping my turn!  Suddenly, the affectionate "kiddo" he's always called me feels like a cheese grater on my skin.  He's always, even after we'd long been broken up, treated me a little different from his male friends.  My gender-free soul has never understood why a "guys night out" couldn't include me, especially when Wade often jokes about being able to "take my dick off" and join the girls' conversations.  He'll never see me as anything but a "girl."  And just like when we were dating, he'd rather chase after the attention of the women outside his reach, even just as friends, than the one who's always been there.

Andi, especially, has always been a thorn in my side.  We were best friends, or so I thought, before Lyla was born.  You need only read back about 18-19 years to see what ended that.  Turns out, she was never my friend.  She was never ANY of our friend, but she plays the part all too well and has everyone else fooled... until she doesn't.  Classic psychopath.  Her ex-husband knows what I mean.  Every major life event for Wade, she's there -- even though she lives in another state entirely.  He games with her, he has weekly watch parties with her and the rest of his friends.  He has a group chat on Google that I USED to be part of, until she was invited to join.  I can't stand being anywhere near her -- I'm not sure anyone else can, either, because at least TWICE I've been stuck sitting next to her because nobody else wanted to.  Wade has consistently come to the realization that she's no good for him, as a friend or otherwise, but he still keeps running back... just like he used to do with my old adversary, Jeannie.  I'm tired of being last on the list for my "Bestie." 

Losing Tammy has shown a spotlight on all the cracks in my friendship with Wade and I think I'm about ready to have a gentle conversation telling him "goodbye" for good.  I know I'll lose a lot of other friends with him, but they haven't made an effort to give a shit about me, so good riddance.  I have a new family, now -- one that spans the globe, one that sees me as important and cherished and RESPECTED!  I'll miss my old friends terribly, but maybe my old life has been holding me back.  Maybe it's time for me to let it all go and move forward.  There's a whole big world out there.
 

 Throughout this pandemic, I've wanted to indulge in a good, ugly cry just for stress-relieving purposes.  I've had plenty of reasons, but just couldn't trigger the release.

A few nights so, I dreamed I was still unhappily married to my Ex, and cheating on him with...

My Ex!  The version of him that I first fell in love with.  💔

Way to dig deep, psyche!

Fuck this social distancing bullshit.  Yeah, I know... it’s necessary.   I still hate it.

I have fond memories of my grandmother.  A whole treasure trove of them.  Mary Virginia "MerG" (Meadow) Parr, who I only ever called "Missus" for reasons that are their own story, was a force to be reckoned with.  The daughter of a real-life Scarlet O'Hara type, she was like a force of nature in everything she did... including her failings.  I remember Missus as strong, bold (in a sweet, Southern sorta way), driven, loving, adventurous, fearless, generous... but also controlling, cruel, depressed, calculating and terrifyingly mentally ill.

My grandmother became another person when she drank vodka (beer and wine weren't a problem), when she was uber-stressed or when she took certain legally prescribed pharmaceuticals -- or maybe it was a combination of the three.  It wasn't like she had a different identity, but she certainly had another personality.  She'd say things that were mean and meant to leave deep wounds.  She'd make decisions out of spite that left the whole family quaking in fear every holiday.  As her "favorite," I was almost always responsible for babysitting her in these situations while everyone else tried to enjoy dinner.  For as long as I remember until I was at least 14, this was a regular occurrence.  At 14, I had enough and stood up to her, and by passive extension, to everyone else.  It wasn't long after that, my grandmother's doctor retired and her new doctor reviewed, and was appalled by, the cocktail of drugs she was regularly taking!  He remarked at how, in combination, would cause great harm to her mental state and bring on episodes of mood changes and psychosis.  She was in much better shape after that.

In between these nightmare moments, my grandmother took me to movies, shopping, to special lunches and dinners and, my very favorite memories, for overnight fishing excursions on her cabin cruiser!  I could tell you so many wonderful stories about her, as I have before and will again, but that's not what this entry is about.  It's about surviving emotional abuse and becoming a warrior because of it.

Recently, a valuable volunteer for the Austin 48HFP has come under fire from the local filmmaking community.  Sam is charming, ambitious, talented and very sweet to your face.  He's gotten in trouble before for cheating and he promised me that he'd participate no more, but only assist and volunteer.  His assistance was priceless!  I'd heard other stories and even seen screenshots of his cruel behavior to others, but since it didn't effect me, I felt it was not my place to get involved.  Everyone has bad days. 

Sam broke his promise to me last year.  He participated in the San Antonio 48HFP and tried to cheat, but his Team Lead wouldn't allow it.  She confided her concerns about him to me in private and tipped me off to a pre-written script he planned to use for the Four Points Project, the final competition of the year, which is run nationwide online.  I asked her to send me any proof she had so I could bump it up the ladder, if the need arose.  I never got it.  However, another team's lead also tipped me off and she DID send me the script!  Sam bragged online about recruiting Ben Stein for his film, but I didn't believe him.  He's braggadocios.  I kept hoping he would rethink his choice and follow the rules.  About a week after Four Points, the City Producer for that project posted a picture of Sam and Ben Stein, boasting that Stein had voiced a character in an animal film.  I'd scanned over the script and it was an animal film.  I had no choice but to turn him in, though a part of me hoped maybe his submitted film was significantly different from the script.  The Four Points CP confirmed it was exactly the same.  We were both heartbroken -- her because this was a contender for Best Film, and me because it was proof that Sam lied to me.  I wasn't surprised... which was all the more heartbreaking.

HQ put Sam on probation, allowing him to participate, but not be judged, for two years.  I fought for that, instead of a permanent ban from participation.  I still hoped he'd learn from this.  He has not.  Again, not surprised, but disappointed that he let me down, once again.  Rather than be thankful for the probation and remember his promise, Sam went on the attack.  First, he attacked one of the filmmakers, Chris, he was working with on an independent film.  Chris, a former 48HFP team lead, reached out to warn me before he wrote an email to HQ turning Sam in for cheating.  His warning was vague, so I didn't know what he was planning and didn't have time to explain that Sam was already on probation -- a fact no one had publicized because, frankly, it wasn't deemed necessary.  Sam began trying to blacklist Chris and it was working, so Chris reached back out to me for help.  I made a public announcement about cheating and outed MYSELF as the catalyst for Sam's probation.  Sam then tried to attack me.

It started when I congratulated him on a reported move to NOLA.  He got nasty.  Heh... fine.  I got politely pointed about his bullshit.  He attempted to strike back and enrage me.  I'm sorry, sweetheart... this isn't my first rodeo.  I kept paring the blows, striking back gently and wishing him all the best.

Now, I'm being flooded with sympathy for his abuse and congratulations for my remarks.  I feel a little sociopathic in that my greatest joy is the renewed respect for me and for the Austin 48HFP.  This feels like a tool I can use to my advantage in the future.  I don't feel wounded.  I don't feel heroic.  I feel like I've skated through another case of #SameShitDifferentDay.  I'm disappointed in Sam, but I'm not grieving.  Sam is not my grandmother.  He's not my best friend.  He's not my ex-husband.  I can find other volunteers.  It may take three of them to do what Sam could do, but that's only a mild irritation.  I'm walking away from this man unscathed, because we've met before.

That's how long ago I faced my first Kobayashi Maru.  It took at least another 10... no, more like 15, years for me to start redefining my life.  I don't honestly remember a great deal about those 10-15 years.

I was gonna start a vlog today just about me.  Might still.  There's another 6.5 hours left in the day.

Someone threw up on my car last night.  Mom's car, actually.  Dumbass me cleaned it up BEFORE taking pictures ('cuz, srsly, who takes pics of puke?) and now I may not be able to charge the rider for the mess.  FML.

Been terribly lazy today.  Played with the dog.  That was fun.  I should go look for my tripod and try that vloggin thang.  I should also do some research on live-vlogging to YouTube.  That's a thing, right?  It should be a thing.  I do NOT wanna go live on FB with this shit.

Speaking of FB, I got slammed by a Boomer for DARING to debate (not argue, not fight with... merely comment a respectful counter-point to) another Boomer.  I replied with a more pointed argument, though still remaining civil.  If he fires back, I've got my "OK, Boomer" cannon loaded and ready!  Meanwhile, it floors me that I, a fully-grown, MIDDLE-AGED, woman, would be lambasted so strongly ("that's my sister you're talking to!") just for voicing a contradictory opinion.  Excuse me... WTF?  Don't scold me!  I am not a child!  Do you know how many of my peers I've seen laid to rest?  I've survived the deaths of my brother, my father, my BFF, several car crashes, a few emergency surgeries, birthed and breast-fed two babies, got a divorce, endured domestic abuse, struggled though, oh, I can't even count how many recessions, I've seen my countrymen fight and die in at least three wars... I'm so sorry that the little dolls you played with grew up and left home, but we did and now you need to RESPECT us as equals!  Time to give us a seat at the mother-fucking BIG table!  Oh, wait... you can't... 'cuz you saved too many seats for your grandchildren, who you expected to claim as your own and raise... as dolls... just like us.  Fuck you.