It always bugs me when I end up reading/listening to media outlets that are full of endless amounts of bullshit, whether it’s Fox News, Glenn Beck, CNN using Facebook updates as “breaking news” sources, or this.

I understand that “journalism” is a term used loosely as it applies to the internet, since, to a certain extent, even this blog is an example of “journalism”. (No. Really. It’s not, I promise.) However, the same rules apply, regardless of the format your “journalism” is taking. Accusing someone of being fired from their job because they have a drinking problem, based on non-specific rumour that can best be described as “some stuff we heard from some people who kind of know about this stuff”—well, that’s not really responsible journalism, even from a site whose tagline reads “Today’s gossip is tomorrow’s news.”

Unfortunately, in America, that seems to be rather true. If you repeat something often enough, it becomes news, no matter how lacking in foundation. I guess that’s why we now have entire political movements devoted to repeating endlessly that our President isn’t a U.S. citizen, despite the fact that the assertion is simply absurd.

I’m waiting for the website or entertainment news/tabloid show that reminds us “Today’s gossip is tomorrow’s lawsuit.” :P

I’ve been in a rather anxious mood this past week. In fact, that’s a pretty decisive understatement. I’ve been so anxious that not only has my sleep suffered and been filled with scary dreams, but I’ve started chewing the sides of my fingers again, a very bad habit I haven’t engaged in for years.

It all started about two weeks ago, when I received a message on my phone from “Special Agent So-And-So”, requesting an interview with me. Of course, not really knowing what was going on, I freaked out. I then found out that a friend of mine—who is more of a casual social acquaintance that no longer lives in Atlanta—used me as a reference for trying to get her security clearance reinstated.

If she’d simply asked me before submitting my info, I wouldn’t have had a stressful knot in my stomach for the past two weeks. I would have simply said no. I’d rather not interact with law enforcement, investigative agencies, or anyone who has the power to send me to jail or make my life difficult. I’ve gone through my life with a pretty strict no-involvement policy when it comes to authority figures, which served me well in high school, and also living in some less-than-wonderful urban neighbourhoods.

However, when the agent called me, all my attempts to say no were thwarted. I first suggested to her that she find someone else, that I have reasons for not wanting to talk to an investigator, and besides, I don’t know how helpful I’d be. She submitted other references, but the agent kept calling. He said that he couldn’t find anyone who knew this girl well for an extended period of time in ATL. He told me that he didn’t work for the FBI, wasn’t a law enforcement official, and had no interest in investigating me.

Yet, I can’t help but feel like talking to this guy is the last thing in the world I want to do. It doesn’t reassure me that he tells me he’s a background investigator, not an FBI agent. I’m sure those of you who’ve known me well for some time recall the presence of an investigator in my life, and that the results turned my world upside down. The drama that was caused ranks on my list of life’s most painful experiences. I’m clearly not the person who is going to be interested in speaking to an investigator.

I also don’t understand why he won’t take no for an answer, and why we can’t just speak over the phone. I’ve already told him I don’t have that much to offer, and that I don’t see the point, and that I’m hesitant to be interviewed. Yet, he keeps calling, and every day I get a phone call is another day I spend needing to take a Xanax.

I’m also very angry at this acquaintance for putting me in this situation. If she knew me at all, if we really had the type of friendship that meant I’d be a good person to vouch for her, she’d know the stress and anxiety this is causing me, and never would have passed along my information without asking my permission first.

The interview is tomorrow, and I can’t sleep, eating makes my stomach do flip-flops, and I’ve been chewing on the sides of my fingers until they bleed. This has ruined the past week or two of my life, and at this point, I just want it to be over with. I understand this investigator isn’t interested in me, and he’s not the one who tried to destroy my life because someone was paying him to do so. But, emotionally, the anxiety that situation caused me comes back every time my phone rings, or I think about this interview. I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to sit there for 20 minutes and not want to throw up. :(

Today, after years of being a fan of the series, I finally received a copy of Candace Bushnell’s “Sex And The City” in the mail. I’m not certain why I never read the book until now. I’ve read all of the author’s other books, and while her fiction is far from brilliant, it’s entertaining and provides some unique psychological perspectives that—at least based upon my experience—are typically right on the money.

And, I had a realisation as to why the movies that followed the franchise weren’t very successful. It wasn’t simply that the characters were too old, people had grown tired of the storylines, and the films weren’t easy to relate to (and, yes, all of those things are true.). It’s that the book already had an ending and it was written that way on purpose.

In the end, Carrie and Mr. Big do not get together. After years of her chasing after an emotionally unavailable guy who would make a committment—if he loved her more, if he were less self-centred, if he wanted to be that kind of guy—-they don’t end up together. He marries someone else.

I think there is a very hard, very real lesson in that, one that any girl who has given portions of her life to an unavailable partner can easily relate to. But, in the real world, it’s how the story ends, 99% of the time. The guy doesn’t leave his wife, he doesn’t quit his job, he doesn’t get over his committment issues or tell his disapproving family to shove it. He simply stays in the relationship until one or both parties see the need to move on.

“Sex And The City” was written to end with Mr. Big marrying someone else, and with Carrie being shown as a somewhat naive and foolish girl for waiting around for a guy who exemplifies all the main ideas espoused in such classics as “He’s Just Not That Into You”.

The fact that Hollywood has such problems with this reality that they needed to write a happily-ever-after sequel or two, terribly contrived, is why we have such problems in our society today. It’s why we have women with self-esteem issues waiting around for commitment-phobic guys who aren’t treating them with the respect they deserve (and likely, vice versa.)

For a franchise that’s all about female empowerment and modern sexuality, you think they’d consider that it’s a duty owed to the younger generation, to get rid of the fairy tales and nonsense. If you want to spend years trying to tell it like it is, don’t sell out just to make sure everyone lives happily ever after. Because somewhere, there’s a 20-year-old girl waiting for that executive to leave his wife and pay her the attention she deserves outside of the bedroom, and somebody, at some point, needs to tell her to grow up, because it’s not going to happen.

I’m just saying. “Sex And The City”, you sold women out to sell more movies. And it serves you right, because now all of America knows your movies suck.

One of the negative side effects of writing for a living is that I don’t always find the joy and excitement in writing about other things in my spare time. In fact, by the end of the day, I’m often so burned out from interacting with a computer screen and keyboard, all I want to do is stay as far away from it as possible.

That being said, I miss blogging about my life. I miss e-mailing my friends in something resembling a timely fashion. I miss the bad poetry and maudlin stories I used to write for fun.

These days, my creativity is limited to crafting content for plastic surgeons, articles about dogs, and the occasional promotional content to encourage people to travel to a place I’ve never been. Well, that, and the daily 140-character Facebook status updates.

I actually feel like one of the most dull, creatively uninspired people I’ve ever met, despite that I spend my working hours endlessly creating stuff that didn’t exist before I went to work that day. This is remarkably similar to how I’d feel during a long run of a show, back when I was performing for a living. Perhaps I’m the sort of person that needs a job where creativity isn’t required, in order for my artistic spirit to shine through in my “off” hours, and for me to remember my love of that creative process..

Now I know the *real* reason there’s so many actors, writers, and artists out there waiting tables, tending bar, and driving around on bikes delivering packages. ;)