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Thursday 14 June 2012

THE BIG FAT LIE


I was watching a ‘news’ show the other night and the whole show was about the big lies that some people tell; not the small ones like, ‘I’m really 38. Really I am.’ In this case the lies ran the gamut from people impersonating people, lying about one’s age (however, the story was far from this simple I assure you) and the doozy of all doozies, a woman lied to her boyfriend, her family and the community at large about her health. We’ll get to that one in a minute.

The overwhelming trend of the entire program – aside from the fact that all these individuals had a serious lying problem – was the sheer desperation from which these people operated their lives. Each clearly had a hole the size of the Grand Canyon where the scruples were supposed to be and yet, the crazy part was, each assumed that their intention for the lie was coming from the right place. I suppose that is what everyone thinks when they spin a big fat white one (aside from serial killers and murderers; something tells me the don’t give a sh*t about intention).

So the least offensive of the offenders (and I say this lightly as…well, it’s shades of grey when it comes to this lot) was a guy who lied about his age and returned to high school so he could relive his golden moments as an athlete – guess his path as a professional athlete was limited. Harmless enough – outside of being totally sad, as who the hell wants to relive high school. Okay fine, I’m sure a lot of us would like to return to a simpler time when all we had to worry about was exams and how much beer to drink at the weekends; but on paper, it is kind of scary someone took that much time to fabricate an entire identity so that they could return to the hallowed halls of False Security High. He was of course eventually spotted out with his ‘high school’ buddies by his adulthood buddies – or at least people that knew him under a different name, and the gig, as they say, was up.

The other offender was definitely more unbelievable and well, downright criminal. He was an middle aged man that was dressing as an old woman and then going into banks to…well, I fell asleep during the good bit, but when I woke up he was dressed in old lady drag taking his mug shot, so I assumed he had committed a felony and was going to psych ward in a New York Minute.

But the lie that absolutely floored me as well as the reporter on the show (I love a reporter’s face when they’re interviewing someone that they think is certifiable) was about a woman and what she would do to keep her man. Sheila – let’s call her that cause I have toddler brain damage and can’t remember her name – was having problems with her boyfriend. They had had two children, but he wouldn’t commit, and they broke up numerous times and previous to the big fat doozy of a lie, he was ignoring her and being a pretty crap baby daddy. So, what’s a girl to do? Well, Sheila decided that she would pretend that she was dying of cancer and had only months to live so that baby daddy would put a ring on it. Apparently this method worked and to her shock, worked so well that he moved her in to his house within days and the within weeks the entire community had rallied around her and started donating every conceivable thing towards their wedding, honeymoon and her final days on this planet. Even the newspapers got involved writing touching tributes about this blushing bride with only a few months to live.

The only snag of course was that Sheila was in perfect health and had no idea how to stop the freight train of a lie that was HURTLING down the track towards a very large brick wall called CONSEQUENCE. And of course, instead of stopping the lie before the money started pouring in, the free honeymoon, the dress, make-up and all the rest of it was showered upon her, she decided to shave her head, pretend she had chemo and dive straight into the deep end of the liar’s abyss. Unreal, right? The best part, when she was telling this whole story to the reporter, she was trying to justify it all by telling the audience how torn up she was by the lie that she wanted to kill herself. So torn up and suicidal that she has a two hour video of her at her wedding doing an in depth dirty dancing number with her husband where she is partying like it’s 1999…or like she has cancer.

Needless to say, she finally got found out, was utterly ostracized by everyone, lambasted in the press, became a national news story, but get this…her husband took her back and said, ‘I tried to hate her, but love is love.’ As you can see, he’s a pretty generous, forgiving man – or a total gullible moron, I’m not sure which. Humans never cease to amaze (mortify) me.




Monday 11 June 2012

LG



I lost someone a few days ago. I am compelled to write about him because although I believe such things are private, I also am struggling to digest how one makes sense of mortality, especially with people that are young and so vibrant. I suppose the only way I can make sense of it, is to honor him in the best way that I know how, and that is to write about him. For as irony would have it, it was this individual that set me on the course to truly find my writer’s voice – and I haven’t looked back since (although there were certainly times when I cursed him for introducing me to the crazy world of screenwriting, that's for sure).

It’s hard to encapsulate who this man was, purely because he was like no other person I had ever met. I’ve known him since I was 18, and we met at a time when I was all fire and opinions and was that precarious (and annoying) mix of bravado and insecurity. He of course spotted this right away and challenged me from the word go. In fact, the first few years of knowing one another was one big debate. He enjoyed winding me up over whatever topic struck his fancy, and I took the bait, hook line and sinker. I also liked arguing my corner, whilst knowing I was always going to lose whatever argument we were having.

As far as his personality went, dynamic didn’t cover it. He was irreverent, rebellious, loud mouthed, hysterical, fearless and frighteningly curious. All the things I held dear and admired in another human being. There was nothing he wouldn’t do or say – and trust me; this didn’t always sit well with those around him. He was the guy who challenged authority and didn’t quite understand why everyone else wasn’t either. It was hard not to be in awe - or at least ridiculously amused - by how he lived his life. And trust me, it was far from traditional and never ever dull.

The best part was, within all this (sometimes) craziness, was a heart that ran very deep. He loved his friends. And I realize many say they do, but he made friends for life and you felt that being one of them. For me, over the years, he slipped into the role of the big brother I never had and took that role very seriously. Although saying that, I think he loved and was fatigued by this role in equal measure – because I certainly could be a handful. We had our fair share of hairy experiences that I shall not delve into, but needless to say, I would call him at 3am and say that I think I screwed up and he would be there in flash. Usually not mincing his words in the process (he loved a good curse word just like me), but always with a sly smile letting me know that he could relate all too well to my often reckless spirit. 

Over the years, we moved on with our lives and met people, had children, all the things people do. But funny enough, throughout that whole process we’d always cross paths. For some reason we’d always end up living in the same city even just for a year or so. I think it amused us both to no end when we both calmed down and found the more mundane path in life – although we relished reliving the memories of what came before, I can tell you that much.

I think the hardest part of his passing is that I can’t seem to reconcile that he is not in the world anymore (I know that sounds obvious, and I suppose it is) – or at least this world, cause he is definitely somewhere dancing around like a crazy man. He is just one of those people whose force was so large, that you truly thought he’d live to be 300 years old. And more importantly, I liked knowing that he was out there. I looked forward to the sporadic email teasing me, or giving me sh*t, or turning me on to to his latest passion in film/book or TV. 

It’s an understatement to say that I will miss him. But I know that there is no one else I’d rather have out there somewhere in energy-land (as I call it) watching over us all. So in honor of you LG, from this day forward, I’m going to do my best to LIVE. To really live in that fearless, dynamic, hell-bent and heartfelt way you always did...and in the process I shall climb a mountain somewhere (the hill in my dad's backyard may have to do at the moment) and scream out the loudest curse word I can muster. Something tells me that would amuse you.

Here’s to you my friend. x 


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