Wednesday, August 13, 2014

I didn't know there was a bridge nearby!

Once in high school, I dated a complete asshole.

...OK, more than once, but this one took the cake.

I was 16 years old, and my sister had just passed away. As in, a few days had gone by and I was back at school feeling like this whole death thing was really anticlimactic and school still sucked. There had been a guy I noticed, very pretty in an exotic way, with brown shaggy hair, big green eyes and skin the color of gold.

He turned out to be a Brazilian-Jew, and a couple grades younger.

Normally, this would have turned me off. But I was grieving, desperate, and in dire need of someone to hold me. So we dated for a couple weeks. We even made it "Myspace Official" . (Wow, do I feel old and pathetic).

One afternoon, I noticed he had changed his status on Myspace to "single". Understandably confused, I called and messaged him on AIM (JESUS I'M OLD). No response. Finally, hours later he told me he "texted" me and that his mom said we couldn't date because I wasn't Jewish. I was flabbergasted, ashamed.

And mad as hell.

Another few days pass. We are now closer to a month away from my sister's passing. He sends me a message on AIM, asking for forgiveness and for me to check out this webpage he made.  I acquiesced, because at 16 I was a fucking idiot. I clicked on the link, not knowing it was a bogus Myspace log-in page, in which he used to delete EVERYTHING and write:

"I'M A NAZI HORE". Over and over again.

Everything was gone. My poetry, my journal entries. Pictures of my sister that are now obsolete.  I have never actually wanted to murder someone, but now I knew what that felt like.  I could imagine his parents crying over his lifeless body and it made me feel GREAT. I decided to go to the school about this, since it was considered cyber bullying.

If you don't want to lose faith in Francis Lewis High School, read no further. Turn away now, or maybe transfer your kid to another school who actually gives a shit about its students.

Not only did they blame ME, for choosing to date him, all they did was call him in and "lecture" him on how wrong it is to bully people online. This piece of shit, who had openly told me he was looking into selling a fucking GUN at some point, got a slap on the wrist. I later found out it was on his birthday, so that made me feel better.

A year later, as I was graduating, I found out he got put in the hospital after being pistol whipped 10 or so times. Karma's a bitch, ladies and gentlemen.

Anyway, the twist comes last summer: Out of the blue, this kid (now an adult) messages me out of nowhere, saying he's now part of the Israeli Army and has been looking for me for a couple of years in order to apologize.  And you wanna know his reasoning for doing what he did to me?

He didn't know how to break up with me.

I mean, the apology was more for his sake, because at this point I no longer cared. The only thing that upsets me to this day is how the school handled it, because that is why so many people kill themselves. They're told they have to deal with it, and that the people that hurt them will never be brought to justice for it because they're too fucking lazy.  There will always be trolls, but we can change the way we deal with them.

After Robin William's passing, his daughter posted a very touching tribute to Social Media. She then received taunts about her father's self-induced death. Because you know, maybe they don't know how to break up with their girlfriends either.

It will never end. I had a guy in college claim he almost raped me on formspring. I've been told to kiss myself various times. I've lost track how many times I've been called a whore, stemming from before I even lost my virginity. (Not that that makes you more whore-ish, just showing how ridiculous it is)

If someone trolls you, don't engage, block. If someone sends you death threats, call the police. If anything, it will maybe be connected to something else they were notified of.  No one likes a vigilante, but there's a special place in hell for those that watch atrocities happen without doing whatever small thing they can. That's how 6 millions Jews died.

Not on my watch.

-Grace #Adulting

Monday, August 11, 2014

Now tell me whatchu want, whatchu really really want!

Today, I sent out 14 job applications. I'm pretty sure I was under-qualified for at least 5, but  potato POTAHTO, amiright??

Anyway, I'm exhausted because two of them required writing samples and essays. Which means I made some up on the fly, because I don't have any on me and they were due by 5 o'clock today. And goddamnit, I want a better job.

I want. I want I want I want. Today, thanks to a Cracked article, I really thought about what in the hell I wanted.

I thought I wanted to move out to escape my situation at home, because it's a bit unhealthy. If that were the case, I would have moved out 6 months ago, no matter if it meant eating ramen every night. So therefore, this is not WHY I want to move out.

The gun to my head isn't based on issues with my family. It isn't based on hating my space for what it is, but more for what it represents. Being in this place means I haven't moved forward, that I am not stable.

I want to move out because it would mean I was stable. 

This is why I won't move out without a salary position. This is why I'll spend my money right now on gifts for my boyfriend, or maybe a trip to Florida. Because I would rather sacrifice the apartment hunt for the ability to enjoy this time while I can.  Once I work 40 hours a week, I may be too exhausted between filming and work to really spend time with anyone.  I want to meet my boyfriend's grandfather, so that I can know a side of him I've never seen.

Maybe it's counter-intuitive, but I've always valued experiences over money. What's the point of working 100 hours a week if you can't enjoy what you make? Some people work for the day they retire. But how the fuck do they know they're gonna live that long? Most people in my family die in their 60's. I may as well party now. I would rather spend time with my boyfriend than go to school for something I may or may not really be cut out for. Maybe that makes me a weak person, or a terrible feminist, but my job won't keep me company when I'm old (again, if I get there) or mourn me when I'm gone. If I worked 100 hours a week to be rich, I wouldn't be able to have a dog. I wouldn't mind earning a little less so that I could have time for a dog. 

I'd rather take this time to find my passions, whether they end up being what I work in or something I work in order to take part in.

I will not push myself from one unstable situation into another, what would be the point? I can ignore my family, I'm used to it. I can channel the anger into things like this blog. Seriously, does anyone who's happy keep a blog?

I just take comfort in the fact that I am doing all the little steps I need to do in order to find a better job. Finding that better job will lead to me to looking for the right apartment. And when I do...

It will be glorious. I will probably (okay, definitely) ugly cry. I will have a whole new set of things to worry or get angry about, and a whole new set of goals to reach. But it will be well worth it.

-Grace #Adulting

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Dirty Laundry

I've been criticized for a lot of things: My messy room, my terrible life skills, having to google what cleaning products can't be mixed so I don't die...

And for airing my "dirty laundry".

AKA, my rapes.

Does people knowing about these things through my abrasive jokes and pithy commentary make them think less of me? Maybe.  Does it turn me off from me? Probably, and I have evidence of such.

But, does it make me a bad person?

Today, a man I had briefly dated and had former consensual (and terrible) sex with but then later took advantage-wait no, no euphemisms- raped me while I was black out drunk, texted me after I told him I never wanted to speak to him again.  So while I tried to to ignore him, I wanted to say SOMETHING, not necessarily outwardly caustic, but sarcastic and funny to myself. Because I deserved to get some of that out, and I deserved to hear him accept he did something wrong.

Yes. Yes, still. He then said he had apologized, and that he was apologizing again. He also said it was a funny response. Which, made me feel really good. Because I got to be snarky, without being cruel. Because even though he raped me, I don't think he's a terrible person all around.  I just think he needs to rethink what constitutes as an appropriate time to be intimate with someone when you are sober and they are not. Which is 99 times out of 100, not the right thing to do.

Apologies help out the person who did the wrong feel better, more so than the person they wronged.  An apology doesn't erase an action, or words said. It's not a free pass. All it does is make you seem like less of a douchebag and make YOU, the WRONGDOER feel better. I admit this as a wrongdoer myself.  These things we do that hurt others are like shrapnel; a little piece always lingers in our systems. Whereas some of us are better at handling it, like Ironman, some of us get a little more cut up on the inside.

Sometimes we have a piece of clothing that hasn't seen any sunlight in ages. It's smelly, and worn and faded. No matter how many times you wash it, bleach it, or douse it in softener, the stink is so imbedded in the fibers the only way it will leave is if you hang it out to dry.  It needs air, and sunshine, regardless of how ashamed you are that someone will see this filthy laundry you have. Sometimes, it's the only way we can truly move on.

So here I am, airing out my dirty laundry. I've been raped twice, one a pretty grey situation that I rarely speak of because I always have to justify it. The other, date rape.  I have a pretty volatile state of being and I am addressing and working through it.  

I feel a lot less dirty now.

-Grace #Adulting