Terry Crews knows from personal experience why sometimes victims of sexual assault and harassment need years, if not decades, before they can speak out–when they can.
To add to the incredible fuckery, we must also consider the racial component. Had this white man assaulted another white man, he would have at the very least gotten a fist to the face. But a black man can’t defend himself in the same way.
Aside: today is Mother’s Day in Mexico–because this holiday always fall on May 10th there–so I’m indulging by posting this particular video of my eternal crush discussing current events, including the rise of Dfrumph-ism.
Yesterday, the first trailer for this year’s Star Wars retelling..erm, installment, came out–and many men everywhere totally lost their shit. (If you haven’t seen it yet, it’s below the fold.)
Why did so many men exploded in rage all over the internet?
Because, going by the trailer alone, there are two women in fairly prominent roles–one is the eponymous Rogue One, the other seems to be very high up in the Rebel Alliance’s hierarchy.
I’m still not reading–which sucks rotten eggs. As KristieJ said in her comment here, it’s like an essential bit of my soul is missing. This is a symptom of other shit going on in my life.
On the positive side, there’s a possibility of a side job in the same company I’m working for. This would be most excellent because, as much as I love my job now, and as good as the people I’m working for and with are,¹ I am not making enough money to cover my bills.
However, as it is not a given yet (hopefully, it’s a “yet” thing), I’m looking for part time jobs/gigs elsewhere. Until I find something, with this company or elsewhere, this–money stress–is one of the things limiting my ability to concentrate on anything but work.²
So, one way or the other, finding a secondary source of income is a priority.
All this to say that I thought things would remain dark and gloomy and sucky for a while.
After all, I couldn’t read, I couldn’t watch movies or tv, crafting has fallen by the wayside (creativity? forget it), nothing held my attention long enough to allow me to forget my financial circumstances.
Until…
Omar Sharif, the wonderfully talented Egyptian actor who brought Doctor Yuri Zhivago to life, died of a heart attack yesterday in Cairo. He was 83 years old, and had been recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.
(There’s wonderful remembrance of Mr Sharif at NPR, here.)
Mr Sharif has a special place in my heart, because he was my maternal grandmother’s favorite actor. This was not only because of his talent, which was duly appreciated by mi abuelita, but because he resembled my late grandfather.
This resemblance was very marked, and held throughout Mr Sharif’s life–photographs of my grandfather in his late sixties are very close to those of the actor at a similar age. Eerily so, in fact, down to the slighly gap toothed smile (which, interestingly, has never appeared again in the family).
This was particularly important for my grandmother because there were no photographs of her late husband as a young man.
