I'm having a rough week. Like many people, I wanted to distract myself with a little comedy. The title of an article a friend posted intrigued me... especially since it was from a site where I usually get my daily laughs.
This one.
I thought I had hit gold, since it's totally a subject that worries me, and so I can relate.
Ways not to fuck up like my parents did, all written in a humorous manner? I'm game!
Then I read... and my heart felt heavy and I started having difficulty swallowing.
It was humorous... but it was a serious subject. It was heavy... but... I'd get the occasional chuckle to ease the frown on my face.
Overall, I enjoyed the article... because as much as I love my parents, I encountered some of the shit he did (the fear of God getting struck into me by an angry parent. My mom is my mom, but the fact that she would go batshit on us whenever we did things like spill our milk or not know how to count is still there. I don't know if there are many people out there who have gotten backhanded so hard their lip splits open, let alone this happen to them at the age of eight by their own mother who was angry because all you were trying to do was get her off the goddamn Nintendo). Then I read the comments, and felt... angry.
While many people loved the article, there were many people criticizing it for the content.
"I came here to laugh, what the fuck is this shit?" others were comments of people not believing some of the abuse could actually happen, and stuff like that.
Oh wow... sounds familiar!
Back during the ONE time I let everyone in my creative writing class read two of my stories, I gave them one that the professor always brought up in class. He'd speak vaguely of it, and apparently, this intrigued some of the people in class. I only gave them what they asked for.
The subject was heavy... I guess it could be considered a form of child abuse, but with some comic relief.
It was a true story, where I switched names besides the main character--me-- in order to "protect" identities.
It started with somewhat comical situations of a five year old girl... a birthday party (once again, totally real. Everything I wrote was just like I remembered and corroborated by the video recorded at my party), and it snowballed into a terrible experience I had with an aunt verbally and physically hurting me over her kid's lie.
It's a story that haunted my life from that moment at five years of age until... well, I still think back to it and my chest starts to feel heavy, but I can finally laugh about it and think "What the fuck was she smokin'? Crazy bitch." However, it took me until last year to finally tell my mom about it (I damn near started hyperventilating when I caught myself sharing the story. Mom was quiet... then she said "Ah. Hmm. Everything makes sense now.... that crazy, jealous bitch").
ANYWAY, the story is a little jarring at the end... when my aunt throws a fist-full of sand in my face (the physical abuse), tells me I'm a "very ugly little girl! No one likes ugly girls!" (and that's the verbal) and grabs me by my arm and throws me across the street. She then threatens me not to tell my mom or else she'll tell her shit about me so I could get hit. I run all the way home (a block away... in the ghetto, mind you), trip on some uneven pavement and scrape my face and knee. It ends with me realizing that fuck... I am ugly... and I deserve any and all bad treatment I get because of it.
Anyway, back to my creative writing story: nobody liked it (besides Kelley, but that's because she's awesome). It was torn to shreds when it came to the peer critiques.
The comment that hurt most was this one bitch in class, the one Kelley and I referred to as "The Homely" girl. She commented "What adult would do this? It's not believable" while scoffing.
I have never practice so much self-restraint. I sat there and "Oh... ok"ed her comment, while all I really wanted to do was jump on the table and drop-kick her face.
I guess infanticide and child molesters/rapists don't exist in her world... which seems like quite the rosy and inviting place to live.
But hey, guess what... it happens. Children face FAR worse scenarios than the one I wrote about... and yet, here you have me, 20 years later still affected by the heartless words uttered by someone I was supposed to trust.
Just like you have crazy ladies screaming mean shit at a pre-schooler, you have parents who neglect and abuse, even kill their children.
I hate people who try to negate that fact.
I bet they're the type of person who fast-forward through the "tough" scenes of a movie they rent.
I pray their world never gets shattered by the cruel nature of life... and if it just so happens to someone they love, that they don't try to "fix" it by ignoring it.
There ain't no fast-forward button on this bitch... believe me, I've searched.
This one.
I thought I had hit gold, since it's totally a subject that worries me, and so I can relate.
Ways not to fuck up like my parents did, all written in a humorous manner? I'm game!
Then I read... and my heart felt heavy and I started having difficulty swallowing.
It was humorous... but it was a serious subject. It was heavy... but... I'd get the occasional chuckle to ease the frown on my face.
Overall, I enjoyed the article... because as much as I love my parents, I encountered some of the shit he did (the fear of God getting struck into me by an angry parent. My mom is my mom, but the fact that she would go batshit on us whenever we did things like spill our milk or not know how to count is still there. I don't know if there are many people out there who have gotten backhanded so hard their lip splits open, let alone this happen to them at the age of eight by their own mother who was angry because all you were trying to do was get her off the goddamn Nintendo). Then I read the comments, and felt... angry.
While many people loved the article, there were many people criticizing it for the content.
"I came here to laugh, what the fuck is this shit?" others were comments of people not believing some of the abuse could actually happen, and stuff like that.
Oh wow... sounds familiar!
Back during the ONE time I let everyone in my creative writing class read two of my stories, I gave them one that the professor always brought up in class. He'd speak vaguely of it, and apparently, this intrigued some of the people in class. I only gave them what they asked for.
The subject was heavy... I guess it could be considered a form of child abuse, but with some comic relief.
It was a true story, where I switched names besides the main character--me-- in order to "protect" identities.
It started with somewhat comical situations of a five year old girl... a birthday party (once again, totally real. Everything I wrote was just like I remembered and corroborated by the video recorded at my party), and it snowballed into a terrible experience I had with an aunt verbally and physically hurting me over her kid's lie.
It's a story that haunted my life from that moment at five years of age until... well, I still think back to it and my chest starts to feel heavy, but I can finally laugh about it and think "What the fuck was she smokin'? Crazy bitch." However, it took me until last year to finally tell my mom about it (I damn near started hyperventilating when I caught myself sharing the story. Mom was quiet... then she said "Ah. Hmm. Everything makes sense now.... that crazy, jealous bitch").
ANYWAY, the story is a little jarring at the end... when my aunt throws a fist-full of sand in my face (the physical abuse), tells me I'm a "very ugly little girl! No one likes ugly girls!" (and that's the verbal) and grabs me by my arm and throws me across the street. She then threatens me not to tell my mom or else she'll tell her shit about me so I could get hit. I run all the way home (a block away... in the ghetto, mind you), trip on some uneven pavement and scrape my face and knee. It ends with me realizing that fuck... I am ugly... and I deserve any and all bad treatment I get because of it.
Ok. My purpose in making the intro somewhat comical was to lubricate the reader's __orifice_of_choice__ before ramming the huge __object_of_choice_ at the end.
It was dealing with a difficult subject, without wanting to commit suicide afterward, basically.
In all my stories, regardless of the subject, I make it my mission to add some sort of humor. It's the comedian in me.
I find that with many comedians, they have a really dark, deeply sad, side... vulnerable to get caught up in addictive behaviors that usually end in a tragic fashion. While I doubt that will happen to me (the drug addiction and eventual drug overdose or suicide), I can relate with many of these troubled comedians. We've had such terrible pasts and traumatic experiences... we're left feeling empty... useless... guilty (this story of my aunt only introduced me to the MANY bullshit episodes that would come my way. All of which would work ever so diligently to destroy my carefree, gentle soul), so you just drink/snort/inject your life away. No one really comforts us... and for the most part, we don't want to trouble others with our baggage, so we crack jokes. Then, when we see someone feeling shitty, we try our fucking hardest to get them out of that abyss we're confined to... at least, that's my case. I don't want ANYONE to feel as shitty as I very often do.
Anyway, back to my creative writing story: nobody liked it (besides Kelley, but that's because she's awesome). It was torn to shreds when it came to the peer critiques.
The comment that hurt most was this one bitch in class, the one Kelley and I referred to as "The Homely" girl. She commented "What adult would do this? It's not believable" while scoffing.
I have never practice so much self-restraint. I sat there and "Oh... ok"ed her comment, while all I really wanted to do was jump on the table and drop-kick her face.
I guess infanticide and child molesters/rapists don't exist in her world... which seems like quite the rosy and inviting place to live.
But hey, guess what... it happens. Children face FAR worse scenarios than the one I wrote about... and yet, here you have me, 20 years later still affected by the heartless words uttered by someone I was supposed to trust.
Just like you have crazy ladies screaming mean shit at a pre-schooler, you have parents who neglect and abuse, even kill their children.
I hate people who try to negate that fact.
I bet they're the type of person who fast-forward through the "tough" scenes of a movie they rent.
I pray their world never gets shattered by the cruel nature of life... and if it just so happens to someone they love, that they don't try to "fix" it by ignoring it.
There ain't no fast-forward button on this bitch... believe me, I've searched.
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