The new column is called Chasing the High, and it’s all about handling the crash of a new relationship. We’ve all been there. It sucks. Which is why I wrote about it.
This has been such a jam-packed month. Between working, writing, and trying to squeeze in every social obligation on the planet, I love to have a quiet evening at home. This rarely happens.
I’ve been led to the conclusion that I might have to cut out some of the not-so-much fun freelance assignments. There’s one that I have that I completely hate. The client is unorganized, the topics totally suck, and every time I’m in the midst of a project, I find myself wondering why I’ve taken on the assigment. The money’s not even that good. But . . . it’s a good way to stay in the practice of writing when it’s forced, and writing on subjects that require a strategy, AND writing things that aren’t strictly based on my opinions or experiences. Because, after all, who really gives a shit about my opinion?
And this whole JonBenet thing . . . does this get crazier and crazier by the minute?
First, you’ve got this creepy little girl, who has always been depicted in a disturbing pageanty kind of way (and pageants creep me out in general), and then she is brutally murdered in her own home.
Naturally her parents are the leading suspects, but nobody has any real proof, so they have to live in a bubble with the media poking at them endlessly for 10 years, and they get the pleasure of seeing the occasional pictures of their daughter on ridiculous supermarket tabloids whenever there are no celebrity breakups to report.
THEN the mother dies of cancer, with no resolution about the death of her (previously over-exposed) daughter. THEN this kooky guy, who has married not one, but TWO teenagers in the past, steps up and confesses while in a FOREIGN country — if you can call it a true confession. I’ve only heard him say “I was with JonBenet at the time of her death,” which in crazy-speak, could mean that he was channeling her presence, or other such nincompoopery.
And NOW it turns out that he was in Alabama with his (underaged) family during the time of the murder. WTF?????
With news items like this, no wonder the whole world is more excited about which member of Paris Hilton’s zoological habitat has decided to bite her.
So far this summer, I think the worst headline has been “Christie Brinkley’s husband cheats with teen.” Not sure I’d recover from that one.
