The Five People You Meet in Hell - Part III

A Dueling Pens Posting by Thelma and Louise

Benchwarmer #3. The User

Ah, the many faces of this endearing breed. There's the nearly-invisible face of the so-called friend who never calls until he wants something from you. Or the equally obtuse face of the one who lives with you and seems affable for the most part, until you realize that you're doing all the work and paying for everything. You gotta love the 'aw-shucks' face of the one who relies on sentiment and your good will to pull off nefarious, unacceptable behavior while still retaining your loyalty. And, possibly my favorite, there's the lovable parasite who'll keep helping himself only to the very tiniest portions of you at a time, so as not to make himself sick in one sitting, thereby leaving you chronically hungry, drained and malnourished.

What's funny about Users is how lovable they can be. Like small children, their charisma is shockingly indestructible and can outlive even the most repugnant behavior. Somehow, even after you've de-loused, you can find that you'd still quite enjoy being friends with them as long as you never had to actually rely on them for anything. But no matter how fun they may be, users are needy and non-reciprocal. Don't be fooled by their self-absorption, unavailability or sporadic about-faces of small inexpensive gift giving. That's a decoy, like when a closet eater picks at her food to give the outside world a false impression. They actually can't function on their own, so they cover their tracks to keep you around and interested, coming back for more of them (which you will never get). It's an elegant dance, if you agree to keep dancing, between Mister It's All About Me and Ms. Maybe If I Just Give A Little More. I'd advise against it, though. Remember The Red Shoes? Didn't they go up in flames at the end of the movie?

Coming Soon: Part IV: The Judge

Where are Thelma and Louise?

Chat online with Louise at Abunga.com!
Wednedsday July 16 at 1 pm CST
http://www.abunga.com/


Also, for those who are packing some heat (and would enjoy sipping a toddy and listening to four writers bellyache about the creative life in front of a stunning backdrop of the Dallas skyline...)

Join Thelma and Louise and their outlaw friends Harry Hunsicker and Will Clarke at the Belmont Hotel (a hidden treasure!) in Dallas on Thursday, July 17, 2008 from 6:30 - 8:30 p.m. First drink is on us!
Here's what the Dallas Morning News says about this fab event

Independence Day: Take-No-Crap Day for Women Everywhere

Bangbangbang! That's the sound of your give-a-hooter exploding. This Independence Day, Thelma and Louise promote ending abusive relationships.

There's nothing you can do/Nothing you can say
I've crossed that bridge/Now I can't take another day/I gave you all I have/Gave myself away/And now I can't get it back no matter how long I might stay...

from "Love Never Dies, It Just Gives Up" by Trish Murphy

I shoulda run away I said/But I just didn't care
You get so used to feeling fear/That you don't know it's there...
from "Thelma and Louise" by Trish Murphy

WOMEN CAN STOP THE FIREWORKS ON INDEPENDENCE DAY:
Psychotherapist Offers Tips for Women in Abusive Relationships

This article published on http://www.foxbusiness.com/, http://www.forbes.com/ and other high profile fancy-do blogs - including a blog near you- on July 1, 2008.

DALLAS, Texas, July 1, 2008 –

This Fourth of July can be a show-stopping fireworks display, or for some women, a show of independence from crippling hurtful spousal abuse. Dallas psychotherapist and founder of Lifeworks Counseling Associates, Melanie Wells, believes in the importance of educating women about the signs and dangers of abusive relationships.

“Not all abuse is physical,” said Wells. “Abuse is often hard to spot and includes a wide spectrum of behaviors.”

Wells offers four warning signs to women who believe they could be involved in an abusive relationship. “Confusion is often the first sign,” says Wells. “If you’re frequently confused by your partner’s behavior and find yourself saying, ‘It’s like he’s two different people,’ then pay attention to how you feel when you’re with this man.”

According to Wells, abusive relationships are characterized by feelings of fear, guilt and shame. “Abused women are always trying to ‘fix’ themselves rather than paying attention to how they’re being treated. Eventually, they become overwhelmed with self-doubt.”

Another sign is that unhealthy behaviors often go unnoticed because they have become normal to those involved. “Tension is such a constant in abusive marriages that women in these situations often don’t notice the fear they feel. Emotions in these households are contagious. If Dad is mad, everyone else in the family feels tense and afraid.”

Wells also points to “loss of self" as a marker of abusive relationships: “When women spend more time trying to figure out how he feels, what he’s done and why – rather than asking themselves, ‘How is this affecting me and what am I going to do about it on my own behalf?,” they’ve lost who they are.”

Finally, Wells contends that the most difficult sign to spot is when women blur the lines between acceptable vs. abusive behavior. When this happens they have become abuse-able and are actually participating in the abuse by tolerating it or lying to themselves about it.

“If your daughter were in a relationship that looked like yours, what would you tell her?” says Wells. “If you’d tell her to ‘get out now,’ then that should be your response, too. While July 4th is a reminder, don’t wait until a benchmark holiday to address abuse in your relationship. Declare your independence now.”

For information regarding abuse and other relational difficulties, visit Lifeworks’ Web site at http://www.wefixbrains.com/. Along with being a licensed therapist, Wells also is author of a series of fictional psychological thrillers, “When the Day of Evil Comes,” “The Soul Hunter,” and “My Soul to Keep.” All books incorporate her experience as a psychotherapist and are available at bookstores and online retailers. Visit http://www.melaniewells.com/ for information.

For more information about Melanie Wells, please visit www.MelanieWellsNews.com. To arrange an interview with Wells please contact Vicki Morgan at 972.267.1111 or via e-mail at Vicki@alarryross.com.

Note to selves: We recommend (nay, demand) that all women read Gavin De Becker's book, The Gift of Fear, right now, this minute. Before you go on one more date or spend one more evening with that man of yours.

Question of the day: Why is it that so many of us spend more time picking out a melon than we do picking out a life partner? Just wondering...

The Five People You Meet in Hell - Part II

A Dueling Pens Posting by Thelma and Louise

Benchwarmer #2: The Poacher

This is the cheating, lying bum who ignores all the "Posted" signs on your barbed wire fence and hunts on your land. The poacher is a lazy thief. This guy is personable, easy to get along with, charming. He can take the room. He's a little cocky, but not too obnoxious or no one would trust him at all. (Keep your eyes peeled for this one - he's hard to spot.) And his ethics are abominable. He's happy to take anything you have. Your friends. Your staff. Your credibility. Your money. Whatever he can lift off you that will make his life easier. I actually had someone try to poach my business phone number one time. I've always thought there's a special place in hell for such people. And now I know what bench he'll be sitting on and who he'll be sharing his days with.

The important thing to know about the Poacher is that he is reptilian. He has no conscience. For him it's "just business." The part of his brain which controls conscience and ethics never developed at all. He's running on basic brain stem activity, like a 14 year old on drugs. (Here's your 14 year old. Here's your 14-year old on drugs. You've been there. You've heard the popping grease and smelled the frying egg. Eew.) The Poacher really should have been a character on the Godfather. Like that scene at the very end where Tessio asks Tom Hagen for a break, "for old time's sake." Tom (Robert Duvall) takes a step backward and holds up his hands like Pontius Pilate. "Sorry," he says. "It's not personal. It's just business."

The Poacher should hang with the Corleones. Or the Sopranos. They are his tribe. He'd cut your throat in a minute if he thought it would do him a bit of good.

Coming Soon: Part III: The User

The Five People You Meet in Hell - Part I

A Dueling Pens Posting by Thelma and Louise


I don't know how much money that dude who wrote "The Five People you Meet in Heaven" made for that book, but I can say without hesitation that I resent every dime of it. Does he think there will only be five people? He's number six? Is this the theory? And why isn't Elvis one of them? (Obviously, I have not read the book. Please don't email me about how this book has changed your life).

BUT, I'm sitting in the lobby of this snazzy hotel in Jackson Hole, Wyoming a few months ago and they have this roaring fire in the lobby. Actually two roaring fires, on opposite sides of the room, but that's not the point. The point is that there are these young, strapping men whose job it is to keep these fires burning (reason enough to check out this hotel...). The strapping young man in charge of the fire where I'm sitting notices the flames are waning, so he makes the trek outside to get more wood while I order another toddy for the body. It's cold. I'm tired. Fire good. Strapping young man good. Toddy for the body good.

So he comes back in and throws this thing on the fire:

My writer's imagination begins to run wild. It looks just like a bench at a bus stop in hell! (Perhaps one too many toddies....) I start to think about the five people you meet in hell. Now THIS is a useful concept. First, if you end up blowing your turn with the buzzer and your spin of the eternal destiny wheel lands on "bankrupt" and you find yourself in need of an extinguisher and a supply of bottled water (you're already in hell, so what do you care if people know you ruin the environment by drinking bottled water?), you'll be prepared. You'll know what to expect. You can have your questions, confrontations and, in appropriate cases, heavy blunt objects at the ready. And secondly - and this is waaaaaaay more important - perhaps you can avoid these people in real life so you don't have to share a bench with them ever. Anywhere. And they can go straight to hell without you. So to speak.

Benchwarmer #1: The Underminer (you know who you are)

Now, I have never personally seen a reality show. I stopped watching televison years ago (don't ask). But key to undersanding the Underminer is to understand that, for her, life is one long episode of Survivor. The tricky part is that no one else knows they're on the show! This is the genius of the underminer. With this exclusive vantage point, imagine the chaos, the destruction, the utter wasteland of devastation the Underminer can leave in her wake! Imagine how easy it is to run a bowling ball right through a group of co-workers, friends, or an entire family. This person is the Casius who whispers in your ear about an employee (see also: Gossip, below). It will sound something like this: "I hate to mention this, but I saw Sara rifling your desk the other day. I know you trust her and everything, and she really does seem so genuine. I'd hate to think that she'd do anything like that. But I thought you should know."

Your response, of course, is gratitude. Toward the Underminer. This is because her identity has not yet been revealed. You trust her. In fact, you value her loyalty. You decide to keep an eye on Sara.

Over the course of the next months, however, the Underminer will slowly erode your confidence in Sara. Until eventually, all you see when you look at Sara is an unlikeable, dishonest loser. So eventually you fire her. Boom. Sara's off the island.

The art here is in the backstory. See, the Underminer has been doing the same thing to YOU the entire time! Whispering into Sara's ear about you and about how you're starting to turn against her and that you're really capricious and moody and not to be trusted. Ever.

And then... guess what? You show up at a party a month later and who are BFF's? Yep, the Underminer and Sara. If you are naaive (as I once was, and as I'm still prone to be) your loyalty to people can blind you to this scam. Before you know it, they're all gone. Except you. Standing on your desert island wishing you had Wilson to talk to - that volleyball that Tom Hanks talks to in the movie. Everyone else is on the new island, which is populated entirely by people loyal to the Underminer and suspicious of you. She is now the star of the show.

Coming Soon: Part 2: The Poacher

Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them

Well, we certainly proved ourselves to be exactly that at our little wingding last Thursday. Thanks to everyone who came out and listened to us tell our lies, read aloud from our books of lies, and sing about things that never really happened at all.

But that's not why I'm writing this.

It's Thelma, y'all. And I'm hear to tell you a thing or two about lies. And the lying liars who tell them.

See, we're all equipped with a B.S. meter. Ask any little baby you come across, or just watch them when they're still too little to worry where mom is. If she hands them off to someone they don't feel right about, they'll start wailing.

You were just like that when you were smaller. Some of us manage to stay that way, which is very lucky. Others get acculturated and domesticated, and probably told a few too many times that it's rude to not believe people's lies, or smacked around for questioning things they dang well know are lies. And it starts to get complicated and confusing. Eventually you sort of give up, and your gut instincts get ill. And gut + ill = guilt. Heh. I'm gonna copyright that formula.

I don't know if there's any way to fix this about myself, so I've just started thinking backwards. I figure any time I feel guilty for not buying someone's load of crap, it's my gut instincts in disguise, wearing a chicken suit and squawking to get my attention.

Donald Passman wrote this book that's pretty much the bible of the music industry for artists. It's called All You Need To Know About the Music Business.

It could also be called "All You Need To Know About Navigating Human Nature," but I guess that overreaches. Still, Passman makes a great point about how to know whether you can trust people when you're having to make decisions that could spell life or death for your career in the big-time. He tells you to trust your gut. Now, how are you supposed to do that when your gut is dressed in a chicken suit and impossible to take seriously?

There's something about creative people, or maybe the act of taking the leap of faith, that involves this boiling-oil situation of learning to be loyal to your instincts. Even if you tank from it in your career, know this: You'll still have to master it in your daily life no matter what. If you're pursuing a creative goal, you likely aren't buffered by the safety nets most people take for granted -- a regular paycheck, someone else paying for your health insurance, maternity leave. As if that didn't suck enough, you also have little to no budget for dishonesty or bad faith in your life, from yourself or from anyone else. You are going to pay the price for it, directly and dearly, and it has less to do with being "creative" than it does with being the person who's assuming all the risk. Welcome to You, Inc.

I've started thinking about the idea of emotional incorporation -- some way to protect your emotional investment so that, if it all comes crashing down tomorrow, you won't crash with it. I'm beginning to conclude that having healthy instincts, and the courage to respond to them appropriately, is something well worth cultivating. It's a good argument for maintaining your childlike state as a creative person. And not that you care, but it earns you respect.

My Voice: The Lost Years

As published on the Skyrocket blog

People who've been following my career for a while, or even as Trish and Darin back in the day, might already know that singing (to say nothing of songwriting) has never come easily for me. Somebody somewhere out there has sat through a performance when I was so hoarse I could hardly get through the show, or even showed up only to find that I couldn't sing at all and had to cancel (this only happened once, in 1999 at the Mucky Duck in Houston, and I was still there to sign CDs and have a CD-release "party.") Those days are pretty much over, except for November and April bouts with allergy-driven pharyngitis, and if you were in Houston last weekend you heard it for yourself.

I have my time with Skyrocket! to thank, though, for a lot of my rehab. From the time I was a tiny kid I've had kind of a rasp to my voice, and by the eighth grade things got pretty dire. I'd go to a slumber party and be mute the next day. Singing was limited to about one hour's worth, and after that forget it. Finally I was diagnosed with vocal nodules, which are basically hard callouses that form on your vocal chords and cut off some of the air that needs to pass through them to make a clear sound. Surgery followed in 10th grade, and months of speech therapy to correct some of the habits I'd developed in the attempt to make my voice audible -- to push sound out through those two tense, worn-out little reeds of muscle.

I didn't know then that it would take a lifetime, really, for my voice to heal. Nobody knows what causes the musculature to tense up in your throat, tongue, jaw, neck and head, but that's what happens when you're using an impaired voice. "Raising my pitch" to eliminate "tongue tension" became a daily practice in therapy, and it seemed so stupid and annoying to hear the fake, babyish pitch I had to use instead of my 'real' one, which was low and throaty and pressed down on my pipes in a way I could feel. The new voice was surprisingly free of effort, heady and relaxed, but I thought I sounded like a dork. I never got the hang of it.

My range was limited to maybe an octave by that time. I limped through high school, in choir and theater, faking it as a second soprano and praying I wouldn't poop out when I got cast as Babe in "The Pajama Game." I can't even count how many speech tournaments I bombed when my voice would buckle under the pressure in final rounds. Sometimes we'd win anyway, but I never felt good about it. It seemed like whenever the stakes were high, my voice would always give me away.

Fast forward to the Trish Murphy years, when major-label showcases, South by Southwest, and the relentless grind of sleep deprivation and industry scrutiny caught up with me from time to time. By then I'd regained some of my footing and earned some confidence, but the high-stakes climate of career decisions and competition would still take its toll. I'd have nightmares where I would need to scream but no sound would come out. Or someone in the dream would make me fly into a hoarse, impotent rage.

By the time I joined Skyrocket, in 2004, I was ready for things to get easier. I'd just put out a new record that I'd financed and then promoted independently, including radio and European tours, and the stress of it was getting to me. I had also begun to realize, the hard way, that not speaking up for yourself to command what you need, want and deserve in life (or in a career) isn't a good thing. Eventually as I started to reverse that habit, the weirdest thing happened. The stakes somehow didn't seem so high any more. I started to relax. And my voice came back.

A few weeks ago my mom was in the audience and saw Skyrocket rip out a full-tilt version of "Crazy on You," complete with the little acoustic-guitar intro. She couldn't believe I actually sang it. I don't have one of those golden throats, but what I do have is hard-won, and I hope the sound that comes out is honest. The material doesn't matter to me. My own songs are written as a confession, and the singing is an afterthought although the melody is usually scrupulous. Singing other people's songs is strangely liberating. The stakes are lower. And I probably need the relief.

The picture, by the way, is of me and my eighth grade best pals Kay and Ellie, who knew me when. We're still figuring out our voices, and how to use them.