Last week was so marbled with ups and downs... with "hats in the pants"...
Worked my buns off on three different midterm projects the whole weekend. Monday, had class from 1pm to 10pm as usual. Tuesday's class is substituted with my Friday class, meaning I have to make a 9am class. Around 2pm I leave for the Valley. I finally make it into Ray's arms.
I had to skip Typography that Wednesday to get ready for the trip to Arizona. I told my teacher it was because I was going to attend a memorial. I wanted to, but I didn't think one was held. I wanted to stay in Long Beach on Wednesday because I was wondering if there would be a memorial for Ginny's two-decade boyfriend in lieu of Morris dancing, but there wasn't (to my knowledge).
Thursday, we don't leave for Arizona until 9pm and get there at 6am. Shenanigans ensue. Kandieland was so-so. I went for the journey, not the destination. I absolutely adore Nathan and Sabrina, and Tyler's always a delight. I feel like I don't know Brittany that well, but I like what I know of her. She likes to laugh and so do I. I'm glad I can make her laugh too.
Saturday consisted of recovery, leaving the hotel, and visiting Blyth. I missed her a lot. She seems to be doing very well in Arizona and the guys she's befriended seem nice too. We dicked around for a few hours before heading to Peter Piper's Pizza to celebrate Super K's godson's birthday. Before we walk into Fry's just to browse, Nathan discovers that Susanna Lee, a.k.a. Silence, has taken her own life.
I didn't know her at all. I won't claim to have ever known her. If I'd ever spoken to her, I don't remember it at all. But she was very young, and today is her birthday. That is extremely fucked. I read her suicide note and started to cry. I will never understand how much pain someone could be in that they would want to rush the inevitable. I just don't understand it.
I was afraid I had been dosed at Kandieland. My body felt numb and heavy like I'd slept on it wrong, the lights were too bright, and I felt delirious. You-know-who sat next to me on the couch. It has been several months since I'd heard a peep from him. Knowing he was there made me more worried that I had been slipped something. But I hadn't had any water to drink or anything to eat or any oral contact with anyone. Unless I was splashed with liquid LSD and didn't feel it, there was no way I could have been dosed.
I realized I was having a panic attack. It was a number of things. The stress, the death (only one, since we found out about Susanna afterward), the lack of sleep, dehydration, the confusion in feeling I was in some odd parallel universe of Los Angeles. Despite being in a completely separate state, everyone I knew was there. I felt like I had already died and my soul had slipped out of my body, and I was just watching the rave go on without me. I looked at Nathan and Sabrina, heard them talking, and thought "I wonder if they ever really liked me." I held on to Tyler's fur pants hoping I'd come back down to earth, as it were. I laid there on the couch in the VIP room staring up at the ceiling, afraid to move lest my soul slosh out of me like a liquid. Who was I kidding? I was dead and gone.
"Wow, you look dead."
"You look dead tired!"
"Whoa, Rabbit's dead to the world."
They knew it. They knew I was dead. I didn't want to bother anybody, so I stayed quiet.
Kitten had introduced me to a girl earlier. It could have been that the music was too loud, but I could have sworn she said, "This is Creature." She looked like Sunny Rae. I didn't know Sunny either. I had seen her around, but we never exchanged words. But I know she is dead too after taking her own life in a very violent manner. Her name was Kreature. I don't think anyone else should have that name.
I just shook this girl's hand and nodded, using every fiber of my being to bite back the urge to say "I knew of someone named Kreature, but she's since commit suicide." "Hey" would have to do.
Kitten sat near me in the VIP room and asked if I was okay. I rolled my eyes toward her and saw "Creature" again. I immediately started bawling. "No," I managed. Kitten immediately asked what I took. Nothing, nothing. I haven't taken anything in my entire life. Then the "oh shit" hit me when I thought I could have been dosed. I panicked before I reasoned and just left the VIP room, running straight to Pyro. He had showed me the tab of acid on his tongue earlier, and my mind started racing: Oh god, acid is transferable through the skin. This is partially true, but it's not as if Pyro put the tab on my sweaty body. Occam's Razor came into play when I drew the conclusion that Pyro's LSD sweat must have sweat onto my body when we hugged and was absorbed into my skin. Reasonable minds recognize that this is, for the most part, impossible.
I cried and whimpered against Pyro, who immediately got me a Gatorade. We went outside to the concessions/dubstep area and I don't know how or when but Tyler, Sabrina, and Nathan were there with me. Pyro said a lot of things that I don't remember, but then said: "You're here with people who care about you, you're outside in the fresh air... listening to... bad Skrillex music." A terrible remix of the already-horrible Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites sputtered out of the speakers. It was then that I came to. Yes, I was outside with my good friends. And it was bad Skrillex music indeed.
The rest of the party went off without a hitch and I felt fine. That is, until I got thirsty and irritable at the end of the party. We went to Denny's and I was too exhausted to even eat. So hungry I couldn't muster the energy to eat. I tried to keep my chin off my plate, tempted to just mush my face into the pancakes and chew in different directions. We slept hard.
Returning to Saturday, I was in the shower. Lots of ravers were weaving in and out of our hotel room as we were packing up to leave, saying their goodbyes. BluesClues, a raver I hadn't seen since I was a wee lass in 2004, barged into the bathroom. I stuck my head out from behind the curtain for an irritated "bye", as I was obviously not comfortable with the breach in my privacy. Because he hadn't yet scored the top rank in Douchebaggery, BluesClues reached out, pulled the shower curtain away, and treated himself to a gaze at my body. "Oooh, nice," he smirked while I tried to cover myself with my hands. I was a bit too stunned to react within those seconds, so I'm sure he saw everything. I was mortified.
I got dressed in the clothes I'd brought in the bathroom and left to see BluesClues waiting for me. "Where's my hug? I don't know when I'll see you again." I grimaced. "I think you've already seen quite enough of me. I'm pretty offended that you pulled the shower curtain open on me." I called him out in front of everyone in the tiny, crowded hotel room. "Aww, c'mon, I'll make it up to you. I'll take you out to dinner."
"I have a thirty-one year old boyfriend." He smiled at this, over thirty himself.
"Well I guess it works out then!" Or something along those lines, insinuating that I was referencing him.
"No, you're thirty-two. I really do have a thirty-one year old boyfriend, and he can kick your fucking ass."
"So? It's not like that. Just as friends. If I were to take Flapjack out to dinner, does that mean I want him to suck my dick afterward?"
Nathan chimes in: "Actually a lot of people have tried that with me so I'm probably not the best example."
Yeah, fuck you BluesClues.
We leave Peter Piper's Pizza around 9pm after exhausting all of our tickets and tokens. I get back on campus around 6:30am. I sleep hard, well into Sunday afternoon, then nap again. I wake up after 5pm. Shit, I need food. I shower, make myself a little presentable, then head over to the market around 6. On the way there I see a man loitering in the darkness by some cars talking enthusiastically. Later I see he's by himself. I assume he's high or bored or waiting for someone or maybe on a Bluetooth I couldn't see or homeless or crazy or some mixture of those, but ultimately think nothing of it. Like a fucking idiot, I walk the same way home after getting my groceries.
The man immediately acknowledges me with his arms in the air, like he's spent all this time waiting for me and hasn't seen me in years. I am over fifty feet away. I continue on, still thinking nothing of it, until he stops me.
"Hey, I need a big favor from you."
"I'm sorry, I don't have any money." I lied. This is one of the few times I actually do have cash on me, but I'm not giving it to this bum.
"No, no, all I want is a hug," he says, throwing his arms around me with a lit cigarette in one hand. My mind goes into chaos, wary of a million things at once. Don't touch my breasts. Don't touch my butt. Don't grab my hair. Don't grab my groceries from my bag. Don't put the cigarette near me. Don't come any closer. Get me out of here. Let go of me. You're hugging too tight. I can't get out. Don't put something on me. Don't inject me. You idiot, no one really does that. Get your hands off my back.
He leans in and kisses me on the neck, where I have just enough time to pull away. He offers some stock phrase like "Have a good day," and I just mumble "Thanks," trying to walk as nonchalantly but quickly away as possible. I put my headphones in like it was no big deal and wipe the kiss off my neck. Through my headphones I hear him yell something angrily but I'm not sure what. I pause my music but calmly keep walking as if nothing happened. A safe enough distance away, I turn around and see he's still in the same place. He isn't following me. When he's no longer in sight, I take off my sweater to make sure nothing's on it and count my groceries.
I had a long deliberation with myself over reporting the incident. I cried and felt like I was overreacting. Maybe he was just being flirty. But I didn't want him to do that. I didn't want him to hug me and especially not kiss me. He was disgusting and filthy. Before I realized exactly what I was doing, I called the campus police and reported the event. An officer came straight to my dorm to interview me, revealing that this was indeed a case of sexual assault. I almost didn't press charges, but thought about how I wouldn't ever want to see that man again. I decided to press charges.
I really want to see Ray so I can feel clean and loved again. I feel like that kiss is still on my neck. It's irritating the shit out of me. The one time I didn't bring my x-acto knife or my Morris stick like I always, always do. The one time.
Fuck, and people wonder why I have sexual insecurity. This shit keeps fucking happening.