Open Letter to Kristen Stewart

Dear Kristen Stewart,

I know that the fan-hitting has been really happening for you lately, and in pretty sure you don't want to hear from me too.  Oh well.  Since its likely you'll never read this anyway I am going to totally disregard that.

At any rate, this isn't about your "momentary indiscretion" which the rest of us are calling "your really fracken stupid behavior where you cheated on a totally hawt sparkly dude with questionable hygiene over a period of several months" because I think enough people have something to say about that.

No, I am just lending my voice to a sea of those wishing to verbally smack you with a dose of reality.  So, brace yourself, sweetheart, for what I am about to say.

Could you please pull your head out of your self centered, immature and ever-so-entitled ass? Please?

I get it, I really do, that it is hard to be hounded, as you have been, by freaks with cameras.  I get that you are "growing up" in the spotlight, that it is challenging, yadda yadda yadda.  But really now, haven't you figured this shit out yet?

I guess I should co-dedicate this letter to people like Jodie Foster (who I believe is otherwise frigging brilliant, by the way, but I think she was smoking some good stuffs when she wrote this crazy thing) who feel the need to defend you till they are blue in the face and pout right along side you about how hard this all is.  I mean, does anyone suffer more?

Wait ... uh, yeah, lots of people do.

I will admit that I giggle occasionally at some of the less than kind things that people say about you. I don't mean to be a spiteful bag of goods, it's just easy to do. Frankly, you were brilliant and inspirational in Speak.  Truely.  Your take in Joan Jett was bad ass enough, and I know you catch a lot of shit for the whole poorly-emotive take in the clumsy and ever so awkward Bella Swan. Being the awkward clueless and clumsy idiot I am, I could relate to Bella, your take on her, and at times, even you.  I'd so be the awkward girl who the paps would catch mid-blink in every photo, every time, with sound bites haunting me for years.  I will also admit that I goosebumped my way through Panic Room where you and Ms. Foster met and bonded over mariachis and basketball.

But here it is, in the simplest and least bitchy terms I can muster.  I have heard comments about how hard it is to do your growing and finding of yourself in the public eye.  How hard this is, to have all of your youthful asshole moments, paraded in front of all to see.  I can see how it would be hard to be under this microscope, how living with that level of scrutiny while still young and fairly life-stupid would be hard.  How challenging finding yourself might be amidst spotlights and flashbulbs.  But, please, forgive me for not falling to the ground in great gulping sobs over your suffering.

See, I had two pink lines at 18.  That means, for someone as young and apparently incapable of understanding how the real world works, that I was pregnant.  All those asshole moments, youthfull indiscretions, and "finding myself" type moments died while that second line appeared.  Poof, gone.  I had to grow up, like right now.

It was a choice, much like following your dreams and becoming an actress was.  I made a choice too.  By the time I was your age I had already been rocking the mommy-gig for nearly four years. I was about to graduate with my bachelors magna sum lade. I worked evenings/nights went to school at night or online and was busily busting my ass with the hopes of being successful as a young, single mother. I had no time for the asshole stuff, publicly or privately. I was too busy being responsible and shit. Growing up rapidly, with lots of judgement was a consequence of my life choices that I faced head on, and without bitching because ... well, no one cared.  It was also infinitely worth it -- much more so than a single penny you have ever earned.

You chose this path.  No, you could have never imagined where it would lead in all its horrid glory, but you chose it.  Suck it up, buttercup.  And start "growing," because you know what, this whole banging-another-dude thing, it isn't youthful indiscretion.  This isn't being "young" or "learning as you go."  No, cheating on a partner is shitty.  Its selfish, its deceitful, its pathetic, stupid, and you did it.  Own that.  Stop blaming anyone other than yourself for that.   Oops, sorry, I said this wouldn't be about that.

You recently said, "people expect it to be easy because there you are, out there, doing the thing you want and making lots of money out of it." No darlin', I expect it to be worth it. I expect you to complain less and be grateful more. I expect you to realize that saying "man, oh, man, it can be hard" like once, then move the eff on.  It is hard to do a lot of things in life.  But not all "hard" things yield your paycheck and opportunities.  "Hard" is working your ass off but not making ends meet no matter what you do.  "Hard" is watching a love one be sick and not being able to make them better, even if only to remove their pain for just a moment.  "Hard" is being born into a shitty situation and clawing your way out of it, day by agonizing day, and trying to find a better life.

"Hard" is not screwing a married man while in a committed, monogamous relationship.  And yes, I am trying very very "hard" to not get crude with my implications of the word "hard" in this particular context.  Damn, I went there again, didn't I?

There are elements of your chosen career and life that are difficult.  But personally, I still rank soldiers, police officers, and a whole lot of other people before you.

So please, dear Kristen and all of the people on her team bemoaning how hard this all is, please understand that life is a series of choices.  The choices we make often determines how hard the path we tread is.  Then again, karma sometimes misses its mark completely and can be a totally fickle biotch.  All you can do is act in a way that will make you proud at every moment and learn from your mistakes.

You can begin any time now.

Sincerely,

Dr. Domestic Rocket Surgeon

P.S.  I was totally Team Edward all the way.  Dufaq where you thinking?!