Mood, but they aren’t free in Canada either. I am pretty sure it was a $100 bucks a pop to apply when I was doing my Masters. I had to chose two universities to apply to and leave it at that – just hope I would inch in somewhere – because otherwise it was too expensive.
Man okay when I got my wisdom teeth out it was a fucking experience. Before the surgery wasn’t too interesting but as soon as I woke up I saw the nurse next to me and was all like “hey… i think… i died… and now I’m in a parallel universe… and i gotta go back to my house and kill the me from this universe” and he was just kinda like “alright, you do that”. And then the other nurse kept going in and out of the room to get things and I thought there was like 5 of her that kept coming out of the room, and then so when she was wheeling me out in a wheelchair I was like “damn… why are there so many of you… there’s like 5 many of you” and she was just kinda like “alright, you do that”.
Anyway I got to the car and my dad was there and he was like “how ya feeling son” in the dadliest way possible and I was like “MAN I AM PUMPED LETS GET SOME JUICE I’M STARVED” so we drove about 3 blocks to a jamba juice, whereupon I say “I’m good I can do this” and run/drunkstumble 30 feet to the door. I burst in the door like a viking returning from some fucking battle and holler “WHATS UP FUCKS” to everyone in the store, which was thankfully just the 2 people behind the counter, who looked probably as scared/confused as a jamba juice employee could look.
So anyway, as my dad explained the situation I looked up at the jamba juice menu and was utterly fucking lost in it. Like I swear I was looking at this menu board for a year, deciphering this Rosetta stone of fruits. I distinctly remember that I was looking at each item in a smoothie, thinking of how it tasted, then moving on to the next thing and thinking of how that tasted, and how they would taste together. Since most smoothies had 3 or 4 items, this took some thinking. So my dad sees me in this extreme brain blast state of mind and says “hey are you going to order or what”. Keep in mind I’m on the first fucking smoothie on the list here. So I just say “shush man I’m trying to do fruit science”, and then when I realized that this process could take literal years, I just said “yeah give me a smooth regular” which for the uninitiated, isn’t actually a real thing on any menu. Oh, also I asked them if the “boosted” smoothies would give me super powers and then pointed my fingers at them and made “lightning noises”.
So my dad just orders me the first thing on the menu and I go to sit down and stare out the window or some shit and my thoroughly amused dad just looks at me and says “how ya feelin?”. Now at this time I was feeling a lot of things, but most noticeable to me was the gauze in my mouth, so I just look at him and say “there’s these fuckin… tiny sheep in my head” which at the time was the best way I had to convey this feeling. Anyway about that time, the jamba juice guy brings us our drinks and he gives me a small thing of mario kart stickers and I swear I almost cried from the tsunami of emotion that gift made me feel (I still have them).
Anyway the rest of the story is we drove home and I explained this programming project I was working on to my dad in perfect detail somehow and then I came home and went on facebook and posted a comment on my friends status (because I couldn’t find the status update bar) that read: “i just took a lort of painkillers and yelled at everyone in a jambo juice”
…It never stops, does it? They don’t believe women, they don’t believe us. Even the ones brave enough to come forward that have clear memories of every single second of the events…they still aren’t lucky enough for the justice system to give them justice. Cosby’s guilty? He gets 3–10 years. Turner is guilty? He gets probation. We wait years to report? We’relying for publicity. We report almost right away? We were either drunk, or dressed or acting in a way that they can deem as “the cause” of being violated.
They told a child this when they reported. They laughed at the child the second time they reported. And now they defend the man by saying that due to the child developing C-PTSD and DID, it’s all in that child’s head. They lack a fundamental understanding of those disorders and yet look at an adult broken down to the state of a child, and tell them, “we will have to have a continuance” after an 8-hour long day in court. What proof more do you need other than hours of testimony, and the perpetrator admitting that they are a sociopath? Why not look down at the child and tell them the truth? That the abuser won’t be found guilty because the jury believes their smiles and crocodile tears more than they believe the tears and trembling of a victim’s voice as they recount, in vivid detail, their assault?
And then. And then! They have the gall to ask us why so many of us don’t report. Could it be that because even when we do, we still aren’t taken seriously and are just as easily dismissed as if we’d never reported at all? Or is it because from the moment certain people get wind of it, they waste no time in telling us that our assaults and our traumas don’t matter as much as the reputation of the abusers we are accusing?
Maybe we’re tired. Of fighting, of defending our actions when we were the ones assaulted not the other way around. Of being told we just regret the interaction and would rather ruin a man’s life than accept responsibility. Accept responsibility for our own assaults? We’re tired of it. Of being ridiculed and forced to relive the worst times of our lives… and then very likely still hearing that our abusers are found not guilty because the jury is undecided just because those people can put on a fake smile and use crocodile tears at a moment’s notice.
We don’t report because even when we do, we are just traumatized a second time over again. We live in a world that doesn’t want to do anything about it. And we live in a world that wants to sweep us under the rug so it can pretend something isn’t a problem.
So there’s a Japanese slang term, ‘chuunibyou’, that roughly translates to “Middle School 2nd Year Syndrome.” It is used to describe the stupid phases people go through when they are 14, like pretend to be really hardcore, act like they know everything, say they have mystical powers, etc.
vanhalenofficial 