Saturday, February 27, 2010

I'm not afraid of you.

I've had the most fantasmic weekend. I have done so many fun things that have included so many fun outfits, fun conversations, fun people, and sweet sounds. My weekend was fun.

It started Friday morning when Isabelle and I sat on her porch while it rained smoking joint after joint.  Her porch had a nice roof that kept us dry and warm. It was this perfect cocoon where we got to watch what was happening around us and yet not be effected by it. The rain poured and we just blew smoke out and talked for hours about everything and nothing at the same time. Sometimes we would just lay there on her porch, our legs sprawled out, our stomachs facing the heavens in complete silence while we took drags. Then we'd start giggling and roll toward each other and just spit out our words talking as fast as we could. It was a great morning.

The next great event that took place this weekend was set on the ascetically pleasing backdrop of alice in wonderland. My friends threw a party in honor of Lewis Carrol. They decorated their apartment with paper machet mushrooms and trees, and they designed a doorway so that it looked like an actual rabbit hole. In order to get into the room you literally had to crawl. Hookahs were set up everywhere. Everyone sat on cushions and drank strong beverages that were poured from different tea pots. We all wore costumes:)

And lastly, I went to a show and tell party where everyone took turns presenting the group of people with something interesting. some sang songs. some played the violin. others called their mom and had her talk to the group via speaker phone. it was really interesting. and i found so many new talented people. next time they have another show and tell, i am going to work up the courage to read a story (that is if i can get writing again. my formative writing skillz have gone down the toilet).

Monday, February 22, 2010


zomg. in the midst of my insomnia, I came across youtube videos of my FAVORITE kid shows when I was little. GOD, they brought back so many memories. For a second, I felt like I was 6 sitting in a bean bag chair, eating my mom's homemade mac-n-cheese for lunch all over again.

I honest to God watched this show every single day. It was part of my routine. I'd go to Kindergarten and then come home, eat lunch, and watch this.

i so bored

So, I can't sleep right now. It's 4:30 in the morning and I'm still awake. Sometimes I'm almost embarrassed by how little I sleep.

Anyway, I saw some other bloggers posting really interesting lists of what they believe in and, well, I'm going to take their lead.

I believe in the power of hope.

I believe that each one of us truly has the power to take hold of life.

I believe in forgiveness.

I believe in second chances.

I believe in starting new chapters when the time is right.

I believe in looking back.

I believe that language has the power to change the world.

I believe in doing things for yourself and not other people.

I believe in friendship.

I believe in blowing off steam at your local gay bar by jamming the night away on the dance floor with your friends.

I believe in the recreational use of marijuana.

I believe in the power of sex.

I believe that everyone is exactly the same, no matter how famous we are, or how lame, or how smart, or how dumb, we are all just ordinary people (thanks Liz<3).

I believe that blogging my thoughts away is very fun.

I believe in the necessity of justice.

I believe in gay marriage.

I believe in a woman's right to choose.

I believe in pharmaceuticals.

I believe in a good night's rest.

I believe that magic surrounds us all.

I believe that evil surrounds us all too.

I believe in choices.

I believe in things like Chicken Soup and gargling with salt water.

I believe in therapy.

I believe in the necessity of cutting some people out of your life.

I believe in my teachers, fellow classmates, and anyone trying to make a difference in the classroom.

I believe that doing hw is more important than getting drunk.

I believe that getting drunk is fun.

I believe in doing what works for you, no matter how many people tell you it's stupid, pointless, etc.

I believe in saying "Fuck You" sometimes.

I believe in God.

I believe in eating lunch outside on nice days and playing in the sun or snow with Liz.

I believe in a lot of things. And I believe that's okay.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Friday, February 19, 2010

Monday, February 15, 2010

So, uh, I take back what I said about the police. I only hate a small part of the police department. The detective whom I talked to a couple days after the douche bag rent-a-cop was really nice and really concerned about the investigation, showing me that she truly cared about the outcome and was willing to do what it took to make things happen. I mean, I wouldn't quite call her an Olivia Bennson or an Elliot Stabler, but she was down and knew what the fuck she was talking about. I don't really care if he goes to jail or not. I just want someone with a uniform to stick up for me by banging on his door and letting him know what he did wasn't okay.

I figure my grandfather either A. had no idea how consequential molesting me was or B. just doesn't give a fuck. So, having an officer let him know that it's against the law for a reason feels good enough for me. And I know that once the cops come knocking at his door and asking around, people will stop being stupid and will stop letting their children near him. And that's all I care about: the safety of others and justice for myself and the other countless victims.

But honestly, I'm tired of talking about all this. Between the daily heart-to-hearts I have with my parents, sisters, and friends, and the once a week sessions with my counselors, I feel like I'm talked out once again.

So, instead I will talk about a great movie I watched this weekend. It stars my favorite lady Mia Farrow and Dustin Hoffman. It's called "John and Mary" and it illustrates the dynamic of a one night stand. You can watch a clip for yourself via Youtube.

This weekend was kind of boring to be quite honest. Boring and yet entirely fruitful. I did all of my hw for the whole week. All of my friends went out of town, so, I just hung out in my room drinking beer and completing assignments one by one. I did have a little bit of fun though. I went to my favorite gay bar with a girlfriend of mine on Friday night. We just danced off the stresses of the previous week. The only awkward part was running into my "friend" Matt. I met him last Halloween at a party. There I was at some house show all dressed up in 1940s clothing and he popped out of no where and started flirting with me. I really liked the attention he gave me, because in all honesty I really found him attractive. He was older and artistic and had this incredibly subtle sense of humor that always caught me off guard. We spent the whole night sipping on a joint and talking on a hammock. We flirted non stop until my ride was about to leave. I asked him if he wanted to exchange phone numbers and that was when he broke the bad news to me. He said he had a girlfriend. I tried my best not to look shocked or hurt, just because I'm one of those immature people who never likes to let someone know they've hurt her feelings. So, I just kinda blew it off. But before I started walking away he told me that they were on the rocks. He promised to call me if things with her didn't work out. I just rolled my eyes and walked away. I figured it was his loss. But then I saw them at the wave that night dancing together and looking very happy and NOT on the rocks. We talked for a second. We did the phony, "Hi, how are you?" type stuff that lasted all of two minutes and did nothing as far as revealing how we truly were. I felt resentful. But after realizing that it's probably better this way since i have so much stuff going on in my life right now, I moved on quickly. And my mind came back to just dancing and having a good time.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


ksjdhvidjnvckjdscnikjasdn. So, not that you expected this after my last post, but I went forward and reported my Grandfather to the police.

This sense of certainty hit me today while I was smoking outside. I realized that it's not my job to protect my Grandmother. It's simply a moral responsibility. And sometimes when you have too many responsibilities, you have to prioritize them, putting the most important on top. And I realized, by staying with him, she put the responsibility she had for me on the bottom. So, why should I decide to put her on the top. And besides, I can't protect her from everything. She decided to stay married to a fucking pedophile... having the police knock on your door is the price of that.

I'm sorry she married him. I'm sorry she found out so late. I'm sorry all of this happened to her. But yeah know what, we have to be grown ups now. We can't change what happened. We can only react to it. And she hasn't reacted well. And now, she'll have to feel consequences of that.

But that is neither here nor there at this moment, because what I really want to talk about is how fucking stupid and tactless and socially retarded the fucking police were. First of all, I had to drive an hour away from my home to where the crime actually occurred to report it. Then I had to wait a whole HOUR to speak to an officer (might I add that I called ahead of time). Then they send me some fucking trainee who doesn't know how to spell Kimberly. THEN, this officer is joined by a douchebag colleague who proceeds to interrogate me about details of the incident in a fucking waiting room in front of a bunch of people. I had to say in front of all these attentive and curious ears that my grandfather penetrated my vagina with his fingers. In response to that statement, the dbag officer #2 says all aggressively, "Okay, well, then why didn't you report him?" I was actually prepared for this question, because I know police are supposed to be skeptical. So, I replied by saying, "Because I was 7 and I was afraid." I thought my response would make him feel like the ahole he was being, but NO. He replies by looking at me like "Yeah, well, nothing we can do now." As if that's not bad enough. Right before I leave, he goes all cockily "So, how much alcohol have you consumed tonight?" WTFFFFFFF. I hadn't had anything whatsoever to drink. And so, I just stared at him in complete shock and told him the truth a couple times over in case he was too dumb to get it the first time. And he was like, "Well, you're eyes are red and glassy and you seem disoriented" and apparently, according to him, I smelled like alcohol. There are a million more probable reasons for why my eyes were red and my behavior disoriented. And as far as the smell... he's absolutely nuts. I have no idea what could have made him smell alcohol on me... According to him a detective will call me before the end of the week... 5 bucks says they blow my accusation off and eat a doughnut.

Now, I know why people hate cops and nobody reports crimes.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Meet Liz.

Liz has very quickly become one of my closest friends. And what I like most about Liz is that she's not one of those phase friends who you grow out of quickly. She's sticking around. She's quite possibly as weird and as nerdy as I am. I knew Liz and I would hit it off when we compared who's leg hair was longer with pride. She won. She has the hairiest legs I've ever seen on a girl. And the coolest part is... she likes it like that.

Everything should be okay.

I haven't made up my mind yet about pressing charges against my Grandpa. My cousins are interested in it... I DO want justice. I DO want to see him be held accountable for the horrible things he did to us. I want him to know that what he did was wrong. I want to confront him and let him know that he stole my innocence and robbed me of a childhood. But I don't know if him going to jail will accomplish that. I know, a bunch of people would probably slap me across the face for not having him put away when I had the chance. But the thing is that sending him to jail would mean ruining my Grandma's life. She already said if people found out how sick he was, she'd move far far far away and live alone. She's so close to death. I can't turn her life upside down at the very end. I know I'm supposed to think about only me in this. My mom told me to forget about everyone else and just think about what will make me feel better. And the thing is... I am thinking about what would make me feel better, because my Grandmother's feelings are intertwined with my own. To say that her happiness isn't a big part of my own would be a lie. You don't understand. This woman sat me, the black sheep of the family, on her lap everyday when I was little. And she'd tell me fun stories. And she always said that one day I'd do something really special. She told me that a little birdie told her that. And I believed her. She was the greatest Grandmother any kid could ask for. She made delicious rice pudding and let me try on her lipstick when no one was looking. Yeah, she's recently betrayed me in the most horrible ways, but I can't act like everything she did before now is meaningless. 

Right now, I feel like I'm holding a loaded gun. Just waiting for the moment when I know whether to pull the trigger or not. I feel like I'm choosing between myself and my Grandmother. 

I'm running out of time. i need to make a decision soon. 

All of this is very bad and stressful, but it's also relieving to put it on the table and to let everyone know what happened to me. It's like every time I talk about it, a little weight is lifted from my chest. 

I've been going to counseling once a week at some Women's place. It's for like rape victims and shit. I like the counselor a lot. She's sassy and smart and really warm hearted. I like being in her office and sitting on her couch and talking about all of the horrible agonizing shit he put me through. We talk about that stuff and then we deal with it together. She says I have PTSD. eh, I don't know if that's true. But it would explain a lot. She's been helping me move on. The only thing I don't like about that place is being in the cramped waiting room. It's like there I am, sitting in a college sweatshirt and jeans, next to a woman dressed in a business suit, who's sitting next to a little oriental gal in a work out suit. The three of us just sit there, flipping through magazines, sighing occasionally about the weather, trying to act like we're not wondering whether the other person was raped or molested too. It's the most awkward thing ever.  

The counseling is worth it though. I've never felt so on track in my life before. It's like there I was six months ago, kneeling over some random guys coffee table, snorting painkillers, acting like I cared about whatever that guy of the week's thoughts were. I'd sleep with them, not because the sex felt good (quite the opposite actually), but because something happened. And I know it sounds really stupid, but the attention felt so good. I can't explain it.  So, there I was... this smart girl wasting all of her potential on partying, doing drugs, and having sex. 

But ever since I started doing counseling, I've stayed sober. And I haven't slept around since new year's. I've been doing other things. better things like finding true friends to replace the old ones. I've been doing volunteer work. I've been keeping myself busy in the most Mother-approved ways. And that actually makes me feel really good. 

Friday, February 5, 2010

Did I just write a bunch of stuff about not being able to write anything?

There are still a million things I should be writing about. I should write about the fact that I might have to take part in a procedure that has the possibility of sending my own grandfather to jail. I should write about how haunting the image of my grandmother crying out of devastation is. I should write about the guilt. I should write about how I found this awesome Women's Center near campus filled with effective counselors that will be helping me recover. I should write about my goals for recovery. I should write about my best friends abandoning me when I needed them most and how I'm now left to make new friendships from scratch. I should write about the resentment. I should also write about how much I have enjoyed reaching new levels of friendship with Jenny and Liz. And I should write about how lucky and glad I am that I was able to make such good friends so quickly after losing the old ones, especially now during this crazy series of events. I should write about a lot of things. But I won't and it's not because of that bull shit excuse I used in my last post. It's because I don't want to deal with it yet. I'm not strong enough for the reflection. I'm still exhausted from the mere acknowledgement of all these things. And I don't want the weight of the conclusionary thoughts. So, I won't write about it. For me writing is a way to deal with things. So, yeah. I'm staying away for the time being.

Monday, February 1, 2010

So, I haven't posted anything lately. And that's not because I haven't had anything to write about. It's actually because I have EVERYTHING to write about. A million things have happened. I just haven't made sense of it enough to put it to paper. I will soon though. I just can't right now. But I will give you little blurbs of updates.

*I lost all of my lifelong best friends recently. We've been on the rocks for awhile apparently. I didn't know. And now they don't want anything to do with me. I was really upset for a little bit, but I've learned a lot from this experience. And I've actually made some new amazing close friends that I will talk about more later.

*My grandfather, the one I told you about, well dramatic stuff has happened.

* no more drugs. no more breakdowns

*I met a nice boy.

*I am happy.