“I now believe the most dangerous time for a woman with online visibility is the point at which others are seen to be listening, “following”, “liking”, “favoriting”, retweeting. In other words, the point at which her readers have (in the troll’s mind) “drunk the Koolaid”. Apparently, that just can’t be allowed. From the hater’s POV, you (the Koolaid server) do not “deserve” that attention. You are “stealing” an audience. From their angry, frustrated point of view, the idea that others listen to you is insanity.”—
Yep. Been stalked on line once, for almost a year this creep was relentless and this was pre-facebook/twitter/tumblr. There were other minor creepers too.
For these guys, its like they think they’re the final arbiter of what women should experience, say, or do, online. Tiny petulant control freaks.
I have no idea what happened to my online stalker. I cleaned my accounts, changed my identity and they’d still pop up and harass me. And then one day they just vanished. I would ignore them, and they finally just…went away. I know people who get stalked and the police say now “well, close all your websites and accounts!” and I think, no. I’m equally entitled to a presence online as much as some random person is, and why should I be the one to leave?
So it’s still on women to avoid the harasser, rather than the harasser and creeps to not be creeps. Go figure.
“WHY DO THEY ALWAYS SLICE THEIR PALM TO GET BLOOD. do you know how many nerve endings are in your hand?!?! why don’t they ever cut the back of their arm or their leg or something omfg”—
me everytime a character in a movie has to get a few drops of their blood for some ritual bullshit (via jtoday)
WHILE WE’RE AT IT, why do people try to cross those skinny bridges over lava/chasms/whatever by walking upright. IT’S CALLED CENTER OF GRAVITY. get on your hands and knees and crawl across that thing. HUG IT. SCOOT YOUR BUTT ACROSS. “but i look stupid!” lalalala but we’ll avoid that ~dramatic moment~ where you almost fall over and die because your damn fucking self wanted to look COOL
yes, mr. action hero, I am aware that running dramatically from the baddies at breakneck speed is important, but know what else is important? NOT GETTING SHOT. RUN IN A FUCKING ZIGZAG PATTERN ON THE OFF CHANCE THAT THE MOOKS WERE NOT COACHED IN MARKSMANSHIP BY THE IMPERIAL STORMTROOPERS.
Oh, hey, you there, sneaky hero-type breaking into any place for any reason? WEAR SOME FUCKING GLOVES. They’re called fingerprints, dumbass. You have them and you’re putting them all over the fucking place.
i keep being offered doctor’s notes. it is strangely hard to decline them. students have been so hyperconditioned into believing that they must document their illnesses that they are reluctant not to prove to me that they really did have the flu the day they missed my class….
depression lurks again. And don’t suggest drugs to me, they make me terribly sick and kill my creative fire. And therapists only tell me I’ll be cured if I wore different shoes. ( no, really. the cure for depression is sneakers.)
Its something that lurks around every so often and I just need to remind myself it’s not ME talking and eventually stuff that little black beast back in its cage.
Though this time seems particularily mean, and ill timed too.
“Depression is stupid and not a thing that makes me a better writer. One time I went a whole year without writing and I stayed in bed and drank. Fuck your Bukowskisms. I want sunlight and love and running down some street I’ve never been on where it’s warm and cool at the same time and I’m smiling. I want nothing to ever be bad again- and I don’t mean that I want a life free of conflict, I mean that I want a life free of meaningless conflict. Not being able to will oneself to take a shower or leave the house is meaningless. There is nothing to be gained, no lesson to be learned from that kind of life. My heart is stale, my prose is stale. Give me fire if you want to hurt me. Give me something I can taste. There’s nothing romantic or mysterious about where I am. There’s nothing here worth holding onto.”—By Joshua Espinoza (via fleeten)