did she make you cry, make you break down
shatter your illusion of love
and is it over now,
do you know how to pick up the pieces and go home

Sunday morning and I woke up way too early for having gone to bed at 3:30am.  A loud door slam woke me, and I sat up, tired as I am I just got up and went into the kitchen and made coffee.  Maybe it was the combination of a a bad dream and the noise that pushed me into staying awake, because my head is telling me to go back to bed but the rest of me is saying no way.  Going through the morning paper and reading the same old horror, I gave up after a few pages.  My head is still fuzzy when I see the copy of Marie Claire I bought last night during a buying binge at Walgreen's.  Didn't think I was going to buy it because I'd already read the article, the poem, the drama over the article and the poem and countless tweets telling me I was either loved or reviled.  I blame the lack of sleep for reading the interview again, this time without the usual internet fan filter of worship and glory.  Its just an interview of a girl young enough to be my kid, boy does that mess with my head more on that later, talking about work and love and saying the word "dude" alot. This kid is all about not needing anybody, not having any answers, but knowing that she's not going to bow down to convention.  She's unique and doesn't give a fuck.  She gives 0 fuck answers to stupid questions and the interviewer fills in the blanks with his impressions and facts he probably got from some 21 year old editorial assistant who doesn't know what year it is.  I don't know, for someone who doesn't give a fuck it seems strange that she's a in fashion magazine saying she doesn't give a fuck.  But work is work and we all have parts of our jobs that we hate to do, I suspect this is one of them for her. Ok but why the poem, I mean someone so private sharing something so private of herself in this way.  Is it because she's trying to help her image, or is it something else.  The first option is always a strong possibility, some PR person's insistence that showing her creative artistic side will somehow endear her to people who don't already know her, or who don't like her.  But the something else option is interesting too, and that is that she put it out there for a reason.  Now in keeping with the 0 fucks attitude then this is total bullshit and she's just sharing a poem, but really we all give a fuck including her. She may only be 23 but she does give a fuck probably more than she even knows.  So what does the poem mean?  I've read several interpretations, everything from admitting to loving old men, to describing a tortured relationship, a nasty breakup, whatever.  I read it a few times and to me it can mean just about anything to anybody.  The imagery of the whiffle ball heart though is hard to miss, a heart with holes, spraying blood everywhere, yeah I got that part.  Heartbroken, maybe, longing, maybe, wanting, maybe.  Who knows.  Like I always say no one knows anything about anyone else's suffering.  On the one hand she's a reluctant multi-millionaire movie star, on the other a kid who doesn't have any answers and is too young to have them.  A kid who wears baseball caps and ripped shirts, but likes to cook dinner and keep house.  Okay then, what does it matter. I've got shit to deal with here.  I started out this post thinking about myself and the shit going down in this house but ended up writing about something that's being talked to death about online.  She's just a kid, who shared a poem for some reason intentional or not I don't know.  Maybe its an ode to her tortured relationship with the Golden One, the boy everyone wants, the boy all the girls are in love with, the boy at the cool table in the cafeteria.  Ok maybe not the cool table, but you get it.  He's the same as she is, gives off the impression of the unsure, reluctant movie star who also doesn't give a fuck but maybe he does, I don't know.  Birds of a feather and all that shit.  Why do I even care?  I mean I'm old enough to be their fucking mother for Christ's sake...I mean I was not giving a fuck way before they were even born.  I was accused of hating  him and defending her, I was called many things on twitter. But really how can you even fucking pretend to know what I'm saying unless you fucking read it and listen to it and not just the parts you wanna see or were told to hear.  Reality, my friends, is looking at something from all sides before making a judgement if you have to make one.  Insane menopausal stalkers calling a 23 year old girl a cheating whore is pretty direct, no room for interpretation there.  Me on the other hand I'm a coat of many colors, but I react to hate pretty intensely.  So yeah it pissed me off, that shit like that has been said about her for many years even prior to the "incident" and the perceived lack of response from the person who is a big part of the reason for that hatred made me nuts.  So I lashed out. I do that. Alot.  But people got crazy because I insulted him, hated on him, blamed him the poor victim for the behavior of people he can't control.  Maybe so.  But I reserve the right to call anyone a douchebag if I want to I don't care who the fuck you are, movie star, millionaire, Queen of England, whatever.  What's more I'm pretty sure he'd be ok with thay, giving 0 fucks and all.  I mean who am I to him?  Nobody.  So calm the fuck down and stop getting crazy it doesn't mean shit in the end.  Someone on twitter suggested I was an "empath" and that is why I react the way I do.  Well yeah, I soak up other people's feelings like a sponge, it drives me crazy 24/7.  Makes me the manic bitch people see alot of the time, and the caring, level headed person some of the time. Whatever.  I don't know what's going on with those two I really don't, neither does anyone else.  I can tell you what I feel though.  But its too early and I'm not really awake and I'll have to analyze my feelings later.  I need more coffee because things are out of focus and even music blaring in my ears is not doing the trick.  Maybe I should go back to bed.  It is Sunday.