Break up and shut up!

Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston’s divorce is old news so six years since the break up, the marriage should not be spoken of unfavorably. This week in entertainment news, Brad Pitt succumbed to media pressure to spill the beans on his split with Jennifer Aniston in an exclusive interview with Parade magazine. The beans left a bitter taste in the mouths of gossip consumers globally. He cheated, and then justified his actions by bad-mouthing the victim. 

Aniston commented after the split that Pitt was missing a ‘sensitivity chip,’ and it seems she was right (even though it was wrong to bad mouth, she had a bit more right considering he cheated).

I’ve never believed that following a break up you can become good friends with each other; that is too painful and too murky. Sure enough, this interview should do the trick to end Brad’s faux friendship with the former Friends star.

I’ve heard many stories in my short life on why old wounds can never heal with the presence of an ex. 

Firstly, it makes it very difficult to see what’s next if you’re still friends with an ex. 

I know of one instance where a break up was over and a man returned to a friend to tell her that she was still the greatest catch he’d ever come across. Of that he was sure. 

I say, if you can’t catch the catch, then simply don’t play ball. After breaking her heart, he returned many unattached times to reminisce on the good times he had but never with a promise of return or an apology. He never accepted his part in the break up or the pain and remained a painful existence instead.  His presence was toxic, agonizing and stifled her growth. While it served his ego and killed his conscience, his relationship back-tracking was a waste of both of their times and emotions. It’s called a break up because it’s broken. At that point, if it’s not marriage, you step away. If it is marriage, you fight for it, not comment on how “dull” it was for you (ala Brad Pitt). I was once told if you ever feel bored in the place that you are, then the only boring person within that place is you. I’m a big believer in making light of most situations, having fun wherever I go and leaving everything I touch with the knowledge that I did everything I could to maximize that situation. Living like that means living without regrets and for me, that’s the only option in life. 

When my friend’s ex would later speak of the break up he would speak about her inability to complete him, not his inability to keep her. Perhaps the better thing to have said or concluded would just be that they were simply incompatible, that it was a relationship with some good but not enough to sustain a relationship for life.

There was another instance that I was close to in which it took four years for another lovelorn girl to recover from the salacious lies that her ex had spread. It was four years before they could even look at each other. Four years before he admitted his flaws to others but at that point, the gossip was spread, the damage was irreparable and the memory of what they almost had would always be tainted because of the dishonorable way it ended. 

It should be a general rule that when love ends, conversations about it should too. Of course both parties should be allowed the acceptable grieving period where they go through the motions of healing. 

Take time to get over the shock of the split, come to terms with the fact that you’ll no longer be together, don’t adopt denial in the belief that seeing each other might reignite old feelings. When you realize it’s over, find an outlet for your anger, and rise from the depression by looking optimistically at the happiness that may later come. Once you accept that, you’ll quickly notice the men/women out there ready to make you smile again. 

An ex serves a great purpose to shape the person you become. Through the experience you learn what you do and don’t want in a person. You learn about the greatness of receiving love, and you perfect your ability to give it because of the raised standards that you have for yourself at the end of it.

It is no great service to society for you to stop somebody else from finding love because it didn’t work out with you. Your trash may be someone else’s treasure and no matter the heartbreak, the pain or the time it takes to heal, you at least have the lessons to treasure and a better you to show for it. 

Everybody deserves somebody and you’d hate to be responsible for someone else's loneliness.

A Tribute to 9/11 ten years on...

The legacy of 9/11 should be life and humanity not death and destruction.

Ten years on from the day and the event that robbed the western world of it’s innocence, the world has stopped to remember; the dead, the living, the grieving and the lost.

I watched the Naudet brothers documentary two years ago and again last night. The documentary brought the eyes of the world inside the Twin Towers. Originally, the brothers set out to document the growth of a firefighter from boy to man over nine months. The boy, ‘Tony’ had a foreboding wish to experience a fire, to prove to his men and to himself that he could do the job. That he could be a hero.

Then September 11 came.

Then his youthful optimism vanished.

The Naudet brothers hoped to watch a boy metamorphose into a man in nine months.

In just nine hours, it happened.

The graphic documentary walks viewers into the lobby of the Twin Towers. Hundreds of workers rushed down the fire stairs. Workers bodies were burnt, grown men were reduced to tears.

Fear was in everyone’s eyes. Hope was in everyone’s hearts. Prayers were on everyone’s lips. Loved ones were in everyone’s thoughts. Survival was in everyone’s steps.

 
People leaped from buildings not in an attempt of suicide but in a grand act of bravery and hope. They were leaps of faith in optimism.  It was lovingly done in hope of reaching their families and escaping the hellish flames that engulfed the buildings.
 
Love drove the firefighters to put their lives selflessly at the mercy (or mercilessness) of the flames that rose as the buildings fell.People were crushed with their spirits.

Each firefighter that day ran to the towers in the hope of saving just one life and when the buildings had collapsed, these men courageously rummaged through rubble in search of a body…any body, in hope that they could bury one person with dignity; that one family could have a proper funeral. They never once stopped in their struggle to contemplate that that funeral could be their own.

Nearly 3000 people died that day.

It was somebody’s father. Someone’s mother. Sister. Brother. Daughter. Son. Cousin. Friend.

All these people had hoped that time would heal. I think for New Yorkers, time neither healed or comforted because the running tributes today show hearts still broken, still grieving and still waiting for answers.

I was in New York this time last year and visited the site. The mood becomes instantly somber as you walk through the Financial District. The people are quieter. They are more courteous but also more weary of their surroundings. They jump at sirens. There is a frailty in their faces and a fragility in their responses.

It was sunny the day I visited, but nothing was bright about that stopover. It is still and it is devastating. Families visited the memorial wall the day that I went, thousands of names were engraved into the wall, they are forever etched in people’s memories too.

Many of us still remember where we were the day the news was announced. 9/11 is a day we’ll never forget. The hope is that the lessons will also stay just as potent.

Though life can’t be said to be better for the grieving, what 9/11 brought to New York was a unity it hadn’t known before. One of the busiest cities in the world will stop each year to stand strong together and give thanks for the gifts they had. The lucky ones will give thanks for the gifts they still have.

Tony, the boy-turned-man, who the Naudet brothers filmed went on to marry and have a daughter. Many of the firefighters did. No money nor possession would ever have the importance it once had and love and the search for it only ever increased.

The legacy of the trade centre should be life and humanity not death and destruction because when the event displayed evil at its most corrupt, the rest of us decided to live more lovingly. The rest of us hoped in happiness and good people committed themselves to living out the legacies of the deceased.

New Yorkers are resilient people. They still find a reason to smile.

It is city filled with people that live for joy, fullness of life and fulfillment of dreams.

Firefighters and police officers fought for love of others.

Family members and friends remember lives lost for love of the deceased.

It is hoped that those that never made it out remembered love in their final moments.
 
Ten years on New Yorkers live for love because when life is stripped away from you, love is all that endures.

9/11 – we will never forget.

Happily ever after…when never is more in sight.

I have been incessantly listening to Adele’s album this week; putting me in a happy/sad/love-longing/depressed/elated/fantastical mood. It pulls on every heart string and stirs every emotion – much like a break-up. I’ve been continuously listening to stories of them too (but that has been less of a choice).

The one track on replay has been ‘hiding my heart,’ about the inevitable heartbreak that comes from a transient relationship.

One friend I have knows all about this. This week I felt, saw and attempted to help her heartbreak as she dignifiedly watches on as an old flame, passionately prepares for his wedding to a new love (less than a year on from their break up). The girl he’s with also experienced devotee devastation when her former five year relationship crumbled. One woman’s treasure, was another woman’s treasure and woman number one was trashed instead. Love had to be cruel to be kind to her and though we know not to play with fire, sometimes we need to be burnt to move on.

It won’t make much sense to her for a while but there would never be enough love, or enough joy to fill her in a relationship where the love she had was unrequited.

I’m no expert on why one girl gets chosen over the other and what makes a man commit but I do know that if he hasn’t committed to you, then he’s simply not the one. I am all for shades of grey… but for healing’s sake, this is one truth that will always be black and white to me. If love exists it finds a way to conquer.

What gives me hope and assurance in this is a friend who has newly found love. Love even visited her in her dreams before she met him. True story.

I love this tale so much because this woman confirms that the right man is worth waiting for. Good things come to those who wait. The cliché is true.

She however is anything but cliché. She is vibrant, intelligent, beautiful (in and out), hard-working and very successful. I can’t fault her on anything. She is everything most women would hope to be (me included).

Women used to be told to downplay their intelligence so as to avoid intimidating the opposite sex. Her intelligence attracted a mental and emotional equal and the prospect of finding something like that thrills and delights me.

This young beauty was single for a while but was a champion for love. I’d hear her talk about meeting a man that brought her joy most days that I saw her. Perhaps her positivity powered this new romance. God knows she deserved that happiness. Everybody does and most people will get to experience it, but not without a period of loneliness first.

I think the secret to this is that in order to appreciate the love you have, you have to experience what it means to live without them so when they walk on set as an extra in your life, you quickly realize that you’d prefer them as a regular cast member with the scenes of romance on replay.

The real stuff is good too. The fights and the way you overcome them. The dark moments and the days their light rescues you from that misery. The moment when simply seeing them where you are is enough to satiate your hungry soul. Hearing their voice will do that too. Then their’s that day it unlocks happiness that was previously foreign to you. It’s this love that I’m waiting for.

It’s also this love that I hope soon comes to my friend. Heartbreak has forced her to hide her heart, but I hope that when the grieving is over and the healing begins, she is able to reopen her heart to find love that friend #2 in this story has got to know.

While love songs do nothing for my patience, they do plenty for my passion. and remind me that that fire is worth waiting out in the cold for. There’s a positive in everything.

The perfect pout....on Men

pout ¹ (pout)

v. pout·ed, pout·ing, pouts

v.intr.

1. To exhibit displeasure or disappointment; sulk.

2. To protrude the lips in an expression of displeasure or sulkiness.

3. To project or protrude.

When Angelina Jolie's perfect pout went global and the use of collagen became the new black to achieve it - I never in a million years would have thought that men would proudly parade the pout too!
 
The problem with this is the perfect pout is creeping up on every profile picture of every potential boyfriend on every social networking site I'm connected on. The perfect pout is proving enormously imperfect for me.
 
I'm beginning to realize I have a type. It's not an uncommon type so I know you'll get it - I like them tall, dark and handsome - and occasionally I attract them.

We get talking – then take it to the next level (meaning we become Facebook friends).  I add them, I scroll through photos, and then I bear witness to their pouting.

Then I pout (but not in the same way - more in a damn-it here comes another pretty boy way).
 
I'm not sure what possessed these pouters but as far as I'm concerned the pouting has to come to a halt.
 
You see, I was speaking to a very attractive, very intelligent, very accomplished man - his laugh was likable, his looks were too, his intelligence ticked the third important box and just as I started to fall head over heels, his profile photo ensured I stayed firmly seated - this relationship would go no further. This relationship COULD go no further.

It's future was tarnished by his flirting faux pas - the profile photo and the pout within. He's one of many men to disappoint in this arena.
 
Unless you're Derek Zoolander or satirizing the satire - your pout should have no place on my news feed.

My girlfriend’s and I make fun of the girls that pout so you boys should feel free to as well, but I take issue when every photo of you has you sporting that look.
 
You may think I'm being petty and superficial but this is serious business!

If  'A picture says a thousand words' then a photo of a man pouting says; I endorse collagen, I'm a little bit in love with myself, I'm all about hooking up, I'm a tad feminine to which I say;
 
I've lost all interest!
 
Few people proudly post unflattering images of themselves on Facebook, Twitter or MySpace. They put their best face forward because if they are being searched for or stalked by a love interest, they'd like you to poke them, like them or positively comment on them. With that knowledge it puzzles me to see pouts proudly posted as a person's best face.
 
The pout in men is the perfect example of how social networking sites are stifling romance and relationships. It exposes us to too much before a relationship has any time to develop but in this world with so many choices to make and so little time to make them, it's imperative that we see and know more fairly quickly, in order to make the best and most informed decision in every aspect of our lives.
 
While I agree that we shouldn't judge a book by its cover, I'm puzzled when the book has chosen a cover that inspires such judgment.
 
Social networking is socially not-working for me - but surely I can't be the only woman who is passing on the pout.

 

Pest Control

It’s been a while since I’ve had a crush which is very uncharacteristic of me. I’m usually looking at at-least three boys at once to fill my time and imagination (which is very male of me). I like the boy who is great to look at but who I’ll never do anything with, occasionally I’ll engage in a mild flirtation with the guy that makes coffee (his purpose is obvious) and then there’s the one you look at who you hope you’ll settle down with. Knowing this, you can imagine my horror (and boredom) when I realized that nobody was capturing my attention. Surely (I thought) there must be someone out there to fill my mind and time with. What on earth would I write about if there was no man to inspire my text?

Then he came.

As the saying goes, when it rains it pours and true to form, I had a few men entertain my mind’s stage this week, but only one so far, with a moral lesson worth sharing. Phew (for you the readers, and for me, the writer)!

The distractions have been dancing around in my temporary memory; I’ve placed them there because I know they won’t last (which is a horrible way to look at potential love – but a realistic way to look at lust).

This boy satisfied aesthetically but failed on too many other more important counts. 

The first of his failures was his inability to understand instructions with ease.

He persisted. I resisted. 

Weirdly, this rejection flattered him, instilling in him the false belief that I was  playing hard to get when really there were no games here just some words that were sprayed to exterminate a pest…and like one of those horrible cockroaches that refuses to die, he just kept on keeping on. 

This boy came with the furniture we just bought for our home (so I guess that makes him a termite or something). He was the removalist.

Believe me, I think this is as funny as you do. 

I joked to a friend; 

“How would people refer to us? The reporter and the removalist?” (Yes, I’m a bit of a career snob)

“He’d be great for when we’re moving house or helping friend’s move (and then their go our weekends) but what am I supposed to do with him all the other days of the week?”

He was very attractive so I could look at him – but I’m a big believer in marrying your mental equal and his Jersey-Shore exterior didn’t quite have me convinced that he had a mind like Shakespeare’s.

My number was on the delivery slip so I received a few calls from him to “check” details after the delivery was made. I did my utmost to convince him to bring in our furniture and keep his courtship at the door. 

Our conversation went like this: 

“Can I keep calling you?” 

“You’d be wasting your time if you did,” 

“Why” 

“You’re 19 (yes forgot to mention that).That’s a little young for me” (I’m not at a point where I have to resort to cradle snatching (speaking of cradle snatching look at this clip I produced on The Morning Show that went GLOBAL this week: YAY: http://au.tv.yahoo.com/the-morning-show/video/-/watch/26372699/teen-bride-takes-on-critics/) 

“Look I know it’s normal to be scared of something as beautiful as me, I just wanna hang out one night,” he said (Now you’re both young and dumb). 

“I’m sure you can find someone your age,” I insisted. 

“You like brushing me off don’t you...and I think you’re being silly. We’re practically neighbours, we should just go out…we can even just be friends,” he pushed. 

“No thank you. I have plenty of friends.”

And just like that, the pest was controlled.

I’ve never been a fan of bugs. If I see an insect, I say KILL it, don’t sweep it up, don’t pick it up and throw it into the garden...just get rid of it. FOR GOOD!

I particularly don’t like those pestering creepy crawlies that persist after you’ve Morteined the life out of them. It’s clear you have no place for them in your home and such was the chase and capture of the removalist.

At least for a day, I had a story to retell and a lesson to learn; be careful what you wish for...because when what you wish for creeps in...you might just need some pest control.

Who says you can't mix work with pleasure?

I started this blog at the end of last year as a creative outlet because I don't always get to write about things that interest and excite me in my job.

This week I was lucky enough to get to produce two segments on two topics of great interest to me and you (my regular readers)!

This is short and sweet because the pkgs do the talking for me.

The first was about a woman who I interviewed over the phone who was on the road to marital bliss before her fiance just weeks before her wedding broke up with her. Left with all the gifts of her relationship, she pondered what to do with them when her step mother thought the idea was a website waiting to happen...and that's what she did.

Meghan Perry with her step mother, Marie, co-created the website exboyfriendjewelry.com (pop onto the site, there are some great steals on there). The site catapulted to success, now reaching up to a million visitors daily and the site has received global coverage (even making it on to The Morning Show). Take a look at Larry and Kylie's interview with her here.

http://au.tv.yahoo.com/the-morning-show/video/-/watch/26308486/diamonds-are-a-girls-ex-friend/


The other story I got to work on was a chat with Psychologist Dr Janet Hall on the difference between lust and love. Lots of research is dedicated to separating fact from fiction or hormones from love. Here, Dr Janet discusses the difference pointing out that lust is all about what you can get from somebody else, whereas love is about what you can give to your partner. Take a look at this one too.

http://au.tv.yahoo.com/the-morning-show/video/-/watch/26308748/lust-at-first-sight/

Some great food for thought.

As always, thanks for reading and watching.

X

Doormats and Disney

Everyone has a friend that embraces submission in a relationship; some for the bliss of finding that significant other who you’re happy to compromise for and others to their detriment. I have one friend, who quite happily now has freed herself from an abusive relationship for two years now. She was the perfect girlfriend, the yes-girl, ever-loyal, ever-there but at the end of a long relationship was pushed aside ever-after. There would never be a prize for being a doormat. 

When thinking of what to write this week, I realized a common thread in many childhood fantasies. Each thread was carefully woven and spun to create a carpet. There was Jasmine and Aladdin’s carpet; magical, elevating and romantic. There were red carpets that only the rich, famous and glamorous trod on and their was a walk down the aisle that would mark the beginning of our happily ever afters.

Fictional love stories had us dream of the carpets we’d walk down but never got to the bit about how when many women have been swept off their feet, they place they land, is beneath their partner. 

In an age where equality is rampantly fought for across the globe, why are women still willing to accept the word matriarch to also mean maid? 

I have no issue with being in a mutually loving relationship where compromises are made out of love and respect for my partner and vice versa. 

However, I take issue with blind submission to every man because not every man is worth that compromise to your independence.  Not every man deserves a woman that wholeheartedly commits to him. Unfortunately many women choose the wrong men to submit to and this ruins the idea of love and trust within a relationship for them for life. These women misunderstand compromise to mean passivity in their partnership and forget that in a mutually loving relationship, she would never be trod on. 

On closer inspection of Aladdin and the tale of how he and Jasmine fell in love, it’s clear to see that Jas had her Arabian eyes wide-open when she fell in love with Aladdin. Yes, he was a thief (I’m not advising we all rush out to prisons in pursuit of love) but he was a man who knew he would have to become great in order to be worthy of a princesses love. 

When he and Jasmine first met in Agrabah's marketplace, the two discovered they had a lot in common. This would not be enough to sustain their relationship however. 

Later in the story, when Aladdin gets a hold of the lamp, meets the Genie and is given three wishes, one of Aladdin’s greatest hopes is to become a prince in order to be good enough for Jasmine. 

After a tumultuous tale of wealth, love and rivalry comes to play, Aladdin eventually accepts that he cannot maintain the charade as a prince and reveals to Jasmine that he is not Prince Ali, he is in fact, the pauper, Aladdin. Seeing Jasmine's love for Aladdin, the Sultan (Jasmine’s dad) changes the law to allow her to marry whomever she deems worthy, then they board the magic carpet and embark on a journey, to a “whole new world.”

The story still stands as one of my favourite Disney creations of all time and even at twenty-two years of age, there’s still a lesson or two to learn from it. 

Just as Jasmine did, succumb to the man who works hard to be better for you. Let your love inspire his better qualities (for Aladdin they were kindness and honesty). Like with the Sultan, your parents approval is usually a good sign of his character and worthiness of you, and finally when love is right, it will elevate you – you’ll ride atop the magic carpet, ensuring, you’re never the doormat.