Caterwauling

Blah blah blah Florida. Blah blah blah Casey Anthony is a murderous whore. Blah blah blah raging against injustice and this was one outlet for so many more. Meh. Feh. Bah.

I’m putting together a new TV show — “Are you smarter than a Florida juror?” I’m judging from one of my (many non-paying) freelance clients that I have my first contestant, given that my five-minutes-ago exclamation, “You’re not even qualified to sit on a Florida jury!” sums up what I’m dealing with (for free).

I proclaim that voters need to sit through a civics class (and, for that matter, pass a science class, too, since apparently forensics baffles the masses) before they get handed the right to ruin the country vote or disgrace the justice system sit on a jury.

But hey, the juror who was supposed to leave on vacation today made their cruise. So glad they didn’t find Casey guilty — otherwise they would still be in Orlando today. Tragedy! Maybe they aren’t as dim as I’ve previously believed.

And yes, I know the Supreme Court and other lower-profile cases (if they even apprehend the perpetrators and make it to the trial phase) are making a mockery of the system all the time, but my outrage is that the Caylee case is just one symptom of an epidemic.

Oh well, the bitch walks on Wednesday. Another mouth-breathing, chromosome-missing, oxygen-thieving idiot on the streets of Florida. And, I’m sure, my second contestant on my aforementioned new show…

A full night’s sleep hasn’t done much to take the edge off yesterday’s injustice. Although a full bottle of wine for dinner certainly didn’t hurt.

It’s one thing to receive/read messages from people who didn’t watch the trial about how dumb we all are who care so much about it (as though that could ever be a bad thing) … or how the prosecution clearly failed (really? It was pretty damn airtight, considering how little they had to work with and how mindblowing the “new science” really is) … or how that mud-smearing, see-what-sticks, crude, whiny and inept defense must have done a great job … or how defensive everyone is about the jury’s decision, right or wrong, because that’s our justice system.

But if a “jury of my peers” is having two people out of 12 who went past 11th grade and four with an arrest to their names, I’d rather take my chances in Perugia with Amanda Knox, thanks, should I find myself in the klink. Clearly our merry band of average citizens saw the same evidence the rest of us did and processed (or didn’t process) it the same way. Is that the system at work, or the system not working?

Someone had a really smart comment on Twitter last night, that the jury system blows and people aren’t educated or smart enough for this BIG responsibility. Well, that’s MY comment, because even my mind was blown at just the jury instructions. 🙂

But the comment I saw was that we should abolish the jury system as-is and have law students from around the country sit in on trials. They should have a minimum number of hours logged/number of cases as kind of an “internship.” That way, they can see justice at work before they ever get to practice law.

Knowing that a friend JUST passed the Virginia bar after about a dozen tries, I think that makes sense. Nothing like putting due process to work to make something stick in your brain. And I’d feel way better having a bunch of law students deciding my fate.

Now, before I receive another message that makes me want to procure a weapon and use it, I absolutely believe we are better off having 10 guilty men go free than having one wrongfully convicted. But I could get more time for HINTING at becoming a Casey Anthony vigilante than she will serve for, as I believe the evidence proved beyond any sort of doubt, suffocating her daughter and tossing her into a swamp to rot. And THAT is what I have a problem with.

These are the same people who elected Rick Scott as my governor. So yeah, I get a little touchy when it comes to the “hanging chad” state. What’s next, my state is going to fall into the Michele Bachmann for president camp? And people still want to challenge me on not having faith in the judicial (or any other) system?

Anyway, make fun of me if you must for actually feeling passionate about something, even if it supposedly has nothing to do with me. And snarl at me all you like that I’m calling out the jury’s decision as NOT the right one and writing off this case as too sophisticated for the bulk of the unwashed masses. But I’m getting a little tired of having to rely on prayer and Karma and, ultimately, God to reward the just, punish the evil, and to let wrongdoing appear to remain rewarded until such time arrives.

Caylee’s in God’s Arms Now

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Well, if you are anywhere near social media today, you know my head popped right off my shoulders today when Casey Anthony was declared not guilty on murder one and aggravated child abuse charges.

I’ve watched the trial. I’ve puzzled over the evidence. I’ve been disgusted by the ineptitude and antics of defense counsel. I’ve growled at the documented bizarre and frankly unacceptable behavior of Caylee’s mother. I’ve wondered whether Jose Baez’s allegations of molestation by her father and brother were true. I didn’t consider the bullshit drowning theory. But I, like many others, wondered how this pretty girl who seemingly had it all could POSSIBLY find herself in this predicament.

But by Week 3 of the six-week trial, I was convinced she was guilty. I don’t necessarily think she was smart enough to do it all alone. But after looking at the bags under that baby’s eyes in so many photos, I could see where she wasn’t in the greatest hands when she was with her mother. I saw her grandparents loved her. I know for a fact that many grandparents love their grandchildren more than their children. (I can say I’ve experienced it firsthand.)

But my reasonable doubt isn’t the same as the jurors’.

I just feel Punk’d. Like, it’s time for the real verdict or, at least, someone to give me the last six weeks of my life back that I got caught up in the testimony. The science was fascinating. The family dysfunction was riveting. I guess what happened is that the prosecution proved that nobody else in the family did it, but it’s still boggling my widdle brain that we don’t agree on who DID.

Caylee’s justice is being far away from that monster, I guess. We all know what I’m thinking here — that people like me are marching and carrying banners to ensure reproductive choice remains a right … a right that is consistently getting chipped away at … but in the state of Florida, you can kill your live child with fewer — hell, NO — consequences but how dare you abort a fetus!

It all comes down to the death penalty, I believe. I say fry the bitch. But even if the jurors did think she was guilty, I would bet dollars to donuts that they just didn’t want to put her to death. And I’m sorry — I am not a fan of Texas but I do support their believe that, in the immortal words of Ron White, “If you kill someone in our state, we kill you back.”

I know this doesn’t affect me directly. But, it does. If something happened to me or someone I love, is this what we call justice? I’m sorry but I feel like all the time I spent praying for those jurors went to waste.

Everyone said it’s about the science. That emotions mean nothing. So Casey sat there with a “rage face” on for six weeks and THAT’S OK? The science was new, sure, but you can’t make up a hair showing clear signs of decomposition, in a trunk with other decomposition fluids, and tell me that Casey had NOTHING to do with Casey’s death and ultimate dumping in a swamp. Emotion based on science is still based on science.

I’m sure everyone’s sick of me ranting. And so am I. I blamed it partially on the educational system down here, since I came from a crappy one myself. But it’s bigger than that. Thousands upon thousands of people, myself included, lost the faith today.

The world isn’t fair. We knew that. Today proved it. We aren’t surprised. We know better. But I guess we were all looking for a little bit of hope that the justice system will be there for US when we need it. Instead, courtroom antics and diversion tactics and downright inexperience becomes rewarded.

Casey won. She danced. She giggled. She could walk out of there on Thursday. And all we can do is hope that, as she dances out of that courtroom, the cosmic bus runs her ass over.

Nicely done, Casey. I’ve got to hand it to you, you not only took that baby away from your mother to spite her, but you gave her to the whole world and took her away from us, too. Enjoy that “bella vita” you were hellbent on securing. That is, if someone doesn’t give you the same treatment your daughter got…

Lagoon in Alabama

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Tonight marks 12 years since my grandmother died. And as I stood on my balcony tonight and watched three major communities shooting off their sparklies, and about a dozen man-made shows, I realize how lucky I am to have a life and hopefully a lot of years left in it.

Mom said I need to give up on all these people in freelance-land and just get a job. She said I was happiest with money to spend, places to go, people to socialize with, planes to catch, etc. Even though those administering the paycheck might have had thorns attached to their fingers, I was not one to find happiness in hoping to get paid.

Seriously, I am going to set some houses on fire this week. One of them may be my own, since the skanky landlady is officially doing the new hot Greek guy. But alas, if crotch rot is a satisfying exchange for reduced or free rent, I can’t blame him for his (albeit warped) logic.

I spent a couple hours going through photos today from Lady L’s and my road trip from November. There is so much beauty out there. I’ve been so lucky to experience a taste of it. I want more. The withdrawal from my addiction is killing me, and food is not a satisfying (enough) substitute. (Although I keep trying it, just in case…)

Maybe it’s the wine talking tonight, but something has to change. And I know it has to be me. I’m tired of depending on this one and waiting on that one. But that means I gotta get up offa my own lazy ass and make shit happen.

I need to make a missing persons poster for my motivation. Why can’t I just travel the world, take photos and live la bella vita instead of la vida Boca???

Hmm…

My Home Sweet Home

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Everyone goes through cycles in life. You go from busting your butt to cruise-control to passionate to frustrated to defeated to ball-busting. There’s no defined time that you can or should stay in each phase, but results do vary by individual.

I’m in such a lazy phase, and I blame the Casey Anthony trial for diverting me for the past six weeks. But as closing arguments are taking place right now (I am unquestionably on Team Ashton), I wonder what I’m going to do once the jury arrives at the verdict. I dunno … do some work?

It’s not that the work isn’t there. Paychecks vary. Sometimes they arrive and sometimes they don’t. It’s hard to get up anything resembling enthusiasm when you just don’t know when there’s going to be a present for you in your mailbox. (Or whether the twunty landlady is holding them hostage and pretending she doesn’t have them. Oh, yes, that happens all the time here.)

And I honestly have no fight left in me. I don’t. For what, to deal with the same old issues with the same old people?

I get it that you should never do for a living what you love. I hate writing now. With a passion. I am an editor by profession. I like editing. Nobody VALUES editors fairly. But I don’t like when I have to write because I can’t take the prospect of hating it for the rest of my life. I don’t want to FINALLY sit down to write my novels and go, fuck this — they will remain unwritten because I’d rather claw out my eyes with a spork.

My field is a mess. I trust no one. I feel that I’ve become somewhat unreliable myself, as a self-preservation measure.

I went on an interview not too long ago. It went OK. I got an editing test. I held back a little bit. And I regret it now. I wanted to shred the shit out of the sample piece. But I got the impression that they were rather proud of their stuff.

And I didn’t even edit so much as talk about improving readability and introducing a Web component. I went holistic. I am a manager, at heart, whether it’s with people or products. Which I think I conveyed. But I know for a fact I didn’t show what a kickass editor I am.

I wonder whether a part of me held back because I knew dazzling them meant buying pantyhose and dresses and heels again. Of working in “workspaces” with “status meetings” and “staff meetings” and motherfucking meetings, meetings, MEETINGS.

Whew. lol.

I could be wrong. I just feel like I *could* fit in, that I *could* dazzle, that I *could* rock the shit out of whatever role they gave me. But did the universe, in condoning the act of putting me out on the damn street at the end of last year, do so to tell me that I need to do something COMPLETELY different?

I’m having a bit of an existential crisis here. I always figured it was God’s way of saying, hey, you were losing your faith … go regroup and try again. But perhaps it was God’s way of saying, hey you — you’ve hit the apex of apeshit. You’ve gone as far as you’ll go on the trajectory you’re on. Your book won’t kick as much ass as the Bible but how about writing it?

I was looking at this photo and thinking, as I do, “I miss home.” D.C. became home. But, National Airport was more home to me than the city itself ever was. I was always at home on the road. Give me a hotel room, a couple “must-try” restaurants and a corporate card, and I’m a happy girl.

Everything I’ve done has been a means to an end. But … to WHAT end, exactly?

I watch Jeff Ashton kicking ass as a state prosecutor. I can smell the book deals and cable-news-network hosting gigs just POURING in when closing statements conclude today. I want to be that passionate about something. I want to be that knowledgeable about something. I want to know the rent is paid and to do my job because I am IN LOVE WITH IT.

The problem is, people will kill your passion, no matter where you are. You learn to function in spite of it. You learn to ignore it. You may even go to war against it.

I got to thinking about a blog I wrote a couple days ago, shredding apart someone I happen to dislike. I’m ashamed of that. I really am. That isn’t me writing that. Well, it IS, but I genuinely liked that person at one time. I truly thought that person was misunderstood and kind-hearted and someone who meant well. Even as evidence presented itself to the contrary, I figured it was situational, the “other stuff.”

And honestly, I still do. It’s hard to be the flower among weeds. Eventually, if you have any brains about you, you disguise the sweet smell. You figure out how to not stand out in that way. Does it change who or what you really were in the first place? I don’t know. Yes, to a degree. But when the weed-killer comes around, will the flower start blooming or will it get yanked out by its roots? The question remains unanswered.

Either way, it ain’t my place to speculate. Honestly, I believe everyone is good, underneath it all. Except Casey Anthony. She’s one hot murderous mess. But there’s hope for the rest of us.

And, while it’s hard for me to remember it sometimes, there’s hope for me, too. I try so hard to be good and fair and honest and trusting and trustworthy. And when I see myself making ridiculously catty comments, I realize OH SHIT, I’ve turned into exactly what I’ve fought against.

But it’s not too late. For any of us. (Except Casey, of course.)

I guess what I’m coming to here is that I don’t need to change careers; I need to change MYSELF. What I do for a living isn’t so critical as who I am when I’m doing it.

I’ve got a lot of work to do on myself. We all do. And I promise I won’t sit in judgment of anyone again. Y’all got to face God on your own, and so do I. And I sure don’t want to miss out on the heaven I think I deserve because I thought I could be God for a few minutes down here.

However … God, can You help me not pass judgment on Jose Baez, though? Even though I think even You might say it’s understandable, I’d rather line myself up for Your graces instead of missing out on them from where I’ve been sitting.