Let me start off this entry by saying a few things: 1. This is not for the weak hearted 2. My sister is a much stronger woman than I am and 3. It is because of things like the experience I had this weekend and largely because of my sisters courage that I am able to come forward.
Everything about this weekend is pointing to "all signs go". I spent the weekend at my friends dorm at Hofstra in Long Island, NY. Hofstra is a beautiful, expensive, and reputable university. My best girlfriend goes to that school, do I try to get up there a few times per semester.
I met her new roomates/friends Alice and Susannah and we all hit it off immediately . We walked to a nearby bar, had a few drinks, hung out with some kids they knew. Alice and Sue decided they were going back to one of the frat houses to smoke, but Blair and I stayed behind.
When we got back to the dorm, we got a phone call from a hysterical Alice claiming that her panties were soaked in blood, which she showed us later when she arrived back at the dorm. There was no diubt in my mind that foul play had
occured. Alice told us that multiple guys had (a seperate times in the night) forced their hands into her privates. One of those guys, was Sue's crush, who Sue also hooked up with last night. Turns out the frat house they went to is infamous for their inability to respect women. They drug them, humiliate them, and sexually abuse them. Hofstra has actually forced them off campus because of their hazing.
Alice refused multiple offers for medical attention. Susannah did not return to the dorm until 11am, after 35 frantic missed phone calls from us. She was fine, and now Alice changed her story- she no longer claims she was assaulted, instead she claims she doesn't remember.
My heart broke for Alice this morning. She hyperventilated and sobbed into my chest and I prayed that she would choose to press charges. See, I was once in Alice's shoes, and like her I did nothing.
It was January 2008. My ex and I were on the cusp of breaking up, and I went to a hotel party in manhattan for my friends birthday. I was only 19...My best friend at the time thought it would be a good idea to introduce me to her boyfriends cousin to take my mind off the loser I was dating.
The boy she introduced me to was not my type- short, rude, and pushy. It didn't stop me from feeling bad when he had to sleep in a chair that night. I told him he could share my bed as long as he understood he could not touch me under any circumstance.
When it came time to go to sleep, I was tempted to go back to my seperate room but I was scared because I was drunk and underage. I didn't wanna get caught and get myself in trouble. If only I knew then what I know now...
I woke up to his hands all over me. I told him to stop and he did, only to tell me that my ex was a loser who didn't deserve me. I begged him to stop and let me sleep. He kept touching me throughout the night as I drunkenly slipped in and out of sleep. I remember praying that my ex would show up, and even when I begged him to... He never did.
When I woke up for the final time that night, finally coherent I was able to tell him that I was going in the shower and he had to be gone when I came back. He didn't understand and insisted that "I wanted it." He eventually left, but came back later that day to walk us back to the ferry. I pretended (much like Alice this morning) that everything was ok. I even hugged the molester before walking away from him.
Unlike my sister, I never got help. I never told my best friend, who invited him there. I never told her boyfriend, who's cousin it was. I never told my ex, because I knew that he would blame me. I knew he would tell me I was a whore and I asked for it. I knew that I would believe him if he said it.
My sexual assault experience turned my life around. My ex and I broke up not too long after... Sex after that relationship filled me with guilt and other negative emotions and feelings. My distrust in me grew immensely. In October of 2009 I decided I would become celibate or from a Christian point of view- a "born again virgin."
Today I am a better person for having overcome this horrible experience. I wish I had sought help to avoid feeling the shame and the guilt which followed. But I cannot change what happened to me.
All I can hope is to send this story into the world, and reach someone who needs to read it.
All I can pray for tonight is for Alice to have peace in her heart and peace in her mind- no matter how she chooses to respond to this.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
A Little Lesson in Karma
This is a very short story, but a good one. Because I am in a tough immigration situation, I don't drive. I've never driven outside of a parking lot, never had a car, etc. I rely mostly on my friends and family and sometimes *gasp* the absolutely dreadful New Jersey Transit.
Now sometimes, I'll get lucky and I'm alone on the bus home. That situation is ideal. I make friends with the bus driver, I get home quickly and safely. Yesterday was not like that at all.
I work in a part of town which is mostly inhabited by illegal immigrants-most of them Hispanic. (disclaimer: no part of this story is intended to be racist). They always stare when I get on the bus, probably becauseI'm usually the only white person or "gringa" taking public transit. Needless to say, it freaks me out a little bit. So when I got on yesterday and saw a slightly elderly woman sitting towards the front of the bus, I kindly asked her if she would move her bags to which the old bag retorted "There's plenty of open seats on the bus." Oh no she didnt!!! First of all, you old piece of poop, there is NOT plenty of space on this bus. It's a hot Saturday afternoon, everyone is trying to just get home! But I kept my cool- Jersey Gina did not make an appearance. Instead I told her in my best sarcastic tone that I thought she was a truly wonderful person, and to have a nice day. Luckily a nicer young woman who was sitting behind her offered me the seat next to her. Wouldn't you know it...Not even one minute later, the dirtiest looking dude on the bus walks up to the older woman, motions to the open seat and sits down! I'm talking this guy must've been working in the hot sun all day, he was covered in soot (or was it dirt) and sweat! KARMA KARMA KARMA people it is so so so real! I had a terrible day, and seeing it work like that just turned my day around.
Do you have any karma stories to share???
xoxo
Blake
Now sometimes, I'll get lucky and I'm alone on the bus home. That situation is ideal. I make friends with the bus driver, I get home quickly and safely. Yesterday was not like that at all.
I work in a part of town which is mostly inhabited by illegal immigrants-most of them Hispanic. (disclaimer: no part of this story is intended to be racist). They always stare when I get on the bus, probably becauseI'm usually the only white person or "gringa" taking public transit. Needless to say, it freaks me out a little bit. So when I got on yesterday and saw a slightly elderly woman sitting towards the front of the bus, I kindly asked her if she would move her bags to which the old bag retorted "There's plenty of open seats on the bus." Oh no she didnt!!! First of all, you old piece of poop, there is NOT plenty of space on this bus. It's a hot Saturday afternoon, everyone is trying to just get home! But I kept my cool- Jersey Gina did not make an appearance. Instead I told her in my best sarcastic tone that I thought she was a truly wonderful person, and to have a nice day. Luckily a nicer young woman who was sitting behind her offered me the seat next to her. Wouldn't you know it...Not even one minute later, the dirtiest looking dude on the bus walks up to the older woman, motions to the open seat and sits down! I'm talking this guy must've been working in the hot sun all day, he was covered in soot (or was it dirt) and sweat! KARMA KARMA KARMA people it is so so so real! I had a terrible day, and seeing it work like that just turned my day around.
Do you have any karma stories to share???
xoxo
Blake
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Happy SITS Day to You!
"Happy SITS day to you, Happy SITS day to you, Happy SITS day dear Roxane, Happy SITS day to you!"
Here's to another 6 (or more) months of happy blogging about your crazy life, sissy. Maybe you weren't so wrong to want to get into journalism in the first place! I love you very much, and have no doubt you're going to take this internet world by storm!
To those of you who don't already follow my lovely (blood-related, genuine) fiery redhead of a sister at "It really is all about me", I don't know what you're waiting for! She is the featured Blogger on SITS today, and as you can tell I am so proud/excited for her! AND you can also follow her on TWITTER!
Remind me to show you guys my new rainboots later! All I can say is "rawr"
=)
xoxo
Blake
Here's to another 6 (or more) months of happy blogging about your crazy life, sissy. Maybe you weren't so wrong to want to get into journalism in the first place! I love you very much, and have no doubt you're going to take this internet world by storm!
To those of you who don't already follow my lovely (blood-related, genuine) fiery redhead of a sister at "It really is all about me", I don't know what you're waiting for! She is the featured Blogger on SITS today, and as you can tell I am so proud/excited for her! AND you can also follow her on TWITTER!
Remind me to show you guys my new rainboots later! All I can say is "rawr"
=)
xoxo
Blake
Monday, August 31, 2009
Blake Goes Shopping
So as you may or may not know, I am a fashion major. Logic dictates that I would be a label-loving, shopaholic. The latter is true, the former is not. I buy clothes wherever I like them- sometimes that even means flea markets!
This past weekend I went to Nordstroms, Forever 21, and Burlington Coat Factory. The discounts were ridiculous. Truth be told the last thing I need is clothes, shoes, or anything else that falls under the category of apparel. But I'm addicted, and it's better than smoking!
The thing about being a shopaholic is you have to be smart about it. Only use your credit card if you ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO. Ask for giftcards for your birthday, and only use cash. Shop late spring for next winter's wardrobe. Shop early fall for next summer's wardrobe. Get it? And don't start about the "trends changing" trends are typically the same. Buy basics. Don't go crazy.
Here's what I bargained shopped for:
This past weekend I went to Nordstroms, Forever 21, and Burlington Coat Factory. The discounts were ridiculous. Truth be told the last thing I need is clothes, shoes, or anything else that falls under the category of apparel. But I'm addicted, and it's better than smoking!
The thing about being a shopaholic is you have to be smart about it. Only use your credit card if you ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO. Ask for giftcards for your birthday, and only use cash. Shop late spring for next winter's wardrobe. Shop early fall for next summer's wardrobe. Get it? And don't start about the "trends changing" trends are typically the same. Buy basics. Don't go crazy.
Here's what I bargained shopped for:
Friday, August 21, 2009
Hope everyone enjoys the weekend!
I will be in Atlantic City at Harrah's Pool and in Philadelphia with Roxane. This is going to be my last big (anticipated) weekend of the summer!
xoxo
Pictures to be posted next week
<3
Blake
xoxo
Pictures to be posted next week
<3
Blake
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Mama Kat's Workshop Wednesday
If these walls could talk...
I could tell you about my walls at work, but for $9.50/hour I am going to refrain. Instead, we'll pretend that I'm in the comfort of my own home. If our (new, freshly painted) walls could talk, these are the tales they'd tell:
In our sunroom, you'd see all the paraphenelia of two artists just trying to make it in this crazy world. Mom's paintings and dad's photographs tell the story of two immigrants who came here not because they had to, but because they wanted to. They wanted to be by the ocean, wanted a better life for their girls, wanted a place to feel at home. So they settled in New Jersey. You'd be surrounded by American flags and fond memories of days spent on the beach, when Dad used to work nights to spend the day with his girls.
In our kitchen, our walls would tell you that we can't sit through one family dinner without a squabble. Two (now adult) daughters, one crazy mom, and a dad who still is hardly ever there, doesn't make for conversation- it makes for controversy. The truth is, I don't think any one of us really agrees with another's lifestyle. Roxane and I think mom drinks too much & needs to get out more often, dad works too much & lets mom walk all over him. Mom thinks I'm a party queen and irresponsible, and who even knows what dad is thinking these days. Our walls would also tell you how it really went down the night of my 21st birthday . They would tell you that I eat my emotions, and that my mother hates me because she thinks I'm fat (even Roxane will vouch and tell you that's a fact).
Our bathroom walls would tell you stories about Roxane and I stumbling into our home after a long night, and finding things that even at our age, are scarring us for life. Think along the lines of parents, and nudity...And not the kind you typically encounter in the bathroom. *Shudder*
Our living room walls would tell you about my long conversations with UK... All the times I plugged in my earphones so we could chat about nothing and everything at all. It would tell you about my failed attempts at Sportskool yoga & fitness videos (and it would probably laugh). They would tell you about my two evil aunts (mom's sisters) who call every day and try to get my mother to move back to Canada. They would tell you about my concerned 88 year old grandmother who we talk to 2-3 times a week to talk to her youngest son, and her grandbabies (me and Roxane). You'd hear a gossipy little old lady talk with all the pride in her heart, about our pregnant cousin and our little cousins who are growing up so quickly. You'd get a sense of just how proud of a family we are.
And my bedroom...It would scream: PLEASE STOP SHOPPING! Your clothes are smothering the floor! In all seriousness, it might just say that. I would also tell me to stop being so damn self-depricating, and to stop pining after UK. Yup, I think I'm even capable of nauseating my walls with the thoughts that pass through my mind...
And so there you have it, if my walls could talk...
Blake
I could tell you about my walls at work, but for $9.50/hour I am going to refrain. Instead, we'll pretend that I'm in the comfort of my own home. If our (new, freshly painted) walls could talk, these are the tales they'd tell:
In our sunroom, you'd see all the paraphenelia of two artists just trying to make it in this crazy world. Mom's paintings and dad's photographs tell the story of two immigrants who came here not because they had to, but because they wanted to. They wanted to be by the ocean, wanted a better life for their girls, wanted a place to feel at home. So they settled in New Jersey. You'd be surrounded by American flags and fond memories of days spent on the beach, when Dad used to work nights to spend the day with his girls.
In our kitchen, our walls would tell you that we can't sit through one family dinner without a squabble. Two (now adult) daughters, one crazy mom, and a dad who still is hardly ever there, doesn't make for conversation- it makes for controversy. The truth is, I don't think any one of us really agrees with another's lifestyle. Roxane and I think mom drinks too much & needs to get out more often, dad works too much & lets mom walk all over him. Mom thinks I'm a party queen and irresponsible, and who even knows what dad is thinking these days. Our walls would also tell you how it really went down the night of my 21st birthday . They would tell you that I eat my emotions, and that my mother hates me because she thinks I'm fat (even Roxane will vouch and tell you that's a fact).
Our bathroom walls would tell you stories about Roxane and I stumbling into our home after a long night, and finding things that even at our age, are scarring us for life. Think along the lines of parents, and nudity...And not the kind you typically encounter in the bathroom. *Shudder*
Our living room walls would tell you about my long conversations with UK... All the times I plugged in my earphones so we could chat about nothing and everything at all. It would tell you about my failed attempts at Sportskool yoga & fitness videos (and it would probably laugh). They would tell you about my two evil aunts (mom's sisters) who call every day and try to get my mother to move back to Canada. They would tell you about my concerned 88 year old grandmother who we talk to 2-3 times a week to talk to her youngest son, and her grandbabies (me and Roxane). You'd hear a gossipy little old lady talk with all the pride in her heart, about our pregnant cousin and our little cousins who are growing up so quickly. You'd get a sense of just how proud of a family we are.
And my bedroom...It would scream: PLEASE STOP SHOPPING! Your clothes are smothering the floor! In all seriousness, it might just say that. I would also tell me to stop being so damn self-depricating, and to stop pining after UK. Yup, I think I'm even capable of nauseating my walls with the thoughts that pass through my mind...
And so there you have it, if my walls could talk...
Blake
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
What would you do for $9.50/hour
Would you:
-Answer phones
-Fetch client drinks
-File paperwork
-Organize your boss' office
-Airbrush tan clients
-Deal with demanding clients
-Check out said demanding clients
-Answer e-mails
-Attend to an online database
-Wash & fold laundry
-Clean like an illegal immigrant
Would you?!
Cause apparently my boss, after 3 and a half years- thinks that this is what I'm worth.
I'm fresh out of words on this one, people.
-Answer phones
-Fetch client drinks
-File paperwork
-Organize your boss' office
-Airbrush tan clients
-Deal with demanding clients
-Check out said demanding clients
-Answer e-mails
-Attend to an online database
-Wash & fold laundry
-Clean like an illegal immigrant
Would you?!
Cause apparently my boss, after 3 and a half years- thinks that this is what I'm worth.
I'm fresh out of words on this one, people.
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