(no subject)
I hate the world "stalker" and I feel it's used way too frequently in widely varying and incorrect applications. Despite this aversion, however, I'm going to share with you an experience of mine that took place on Sunday.
So I'm at Woody's, and I'm minding my own business at the bar waiting for Victor and Paul to arrive and enjoy karoake night after work, and a couple of acquaintances (Jason McCoy and Anthony Mancuso, although this deals primarily with Jason) see me and invite themselves to sit beside me with their cosmos. Now, I'm a friendly sort of guy and although I don't know them very well, I have a generally positive opinion of these guys and I don't mind their company.
We talk for awhile and everything's generally cordial, although not drunken by any means (at least on my part), as I had just worked a long shift and feeling drunk across town isn't exactly one of my favorite feelings. However, all of a sudden, comments go awry, and all of a sudden I'm being brutally attacked by this guy who seems to have been reading every single one of my blogs and profile updates in the past two years. I've never been blindsided in such a hostile manner in my ENTIRE. LIFE.
In the course of the (very one-sided) argument, he brings up my issues with relationships, to my anxieties over my majors in comparison with the sciences, my anger and bitterness towards a number of issues that I've illustrated over the years in this medium, among others. Although all of it was a fairly shallow understanding of my feelings and my reasoning, as it was almost entirely on based on what I have written here with little or no evidence in real-life situations or actions, but hurtful - and just plain mean - enough that it entered into a conflux with my tired psyche from this awful summer job, as well being on the last, descending dose of getting off Effexor that it rendered me almost completely defenseless and off-guard.
The creepiest part about it is that I BARELY know this guy. I blew him off at some point in the past, and it seems that since those few encounters, he's been building this arsenal of analysis against me through my blog that has just built and built and built into this explosion. He not only insulted me, he insulted Allison Dumka, Dallas, a number of my other friends, informed me that Kyle Sanders has been ripping me behind my back over the past two years, but since I haven't really given a shit about this Donald Trump-hair, cartoony motherfucker since I decided that I didn't want a Macy's Parade balloon-shaped person in my immediate vicinity, there was no way I could go on the counter-offensive, aside from surface-level shit. It was a cowardly, cowardly thing for him to do and it took all of my fuckin' strength to not punch him in his dinner plate-face then and there.
However, I'm a mature person and I took it in stride, deciding that attacking somebody in a public place and potentially drawing police attention, along with a ban from a bar that I would like to visit again in the last month I'm spending in Tucson, wasn't worth the satisfaction I would have gotten from tearing his head off.
Anyway, in light of this situation, I've decided to make my journals Friends Only, not only because I don't want this sort of thing to happen again with some obsessive nut-case, but just because Carly is at least partially right in the fact that NO-ONE wants a record of their feelings on the internet for everybody to see in this information-overloaded world, and although I won't follow her lead in completely deleting and censoring everything I write, I will take some sort of protective measure as to prevent future incursions and attacks on my person like on Sunday.
One last thing: Since I'm human - and not a moral paragon - I'm going to put a disclaimer on this, as I know I have a large number of readers. Keep an eye out for Jason McCoy. He thinks he's a shoe-in for Ivy League because he got a 4.0 in SBS at a fuckin' state school in Economics and interned for a second-rate non-profit (which he claims to "own"), but I guarantee you that in ten years, we will re-evaluate and see who's got their shit down. Because I guarantee that you don't act the way he does and succeed in the world, no matter if you have the good-ol' Trump "Onion Bulb" or not.
Peace to my hatas.
So I'm at Woody's, and I'm minding my own business at the bar waiting for Victor and Paul to arrive and enjoy karoake night after work, and a couple of acquaintances (Jason McCoy and Anthony Mancuso, although this deals primarily with Jason) see me and invite themselves to sit beside me with their cosmos. Now, I'm a friendly sort of guy and although I don't know them very well, I have a generally positive opinion of these guys and I don't mind their company.
We talk for awhile and everything's generally cordial, although not drunken by any means (at least on my part), as I had just worked a long shift and feeling drunk across town isn't exactly one of my favorite feelings. However, all of a sudden, comments go awry, and all of a sudden I'm being brutally attacked by this guy who seems to have been reading every single one of my blogs and profile updates in the past two years. I've never been blindsided in such a hostile manner in my ENTIRE. LIFE.
In the course of the (very one-sided) argument, he brings up my issues with relationships, to my anxieties over my majors in comparison with the sciences, my anger and bitterness towards a number of issues that I've illustrated over the years in this medium, among others. Although all of it was a fairly shallow understanding of my feelings and my reasoning, as it was almost entirely on based on what I have written here with little or no evidence in real-life situations or actions, but hurtful - and just plain mean - enough that it entered into a conflux with my tired psyche from this awful summer job, as well being on the last, descending dose of getting off Effexor that it rendered me almost completely defenseless and off-guard.
The creepiest part about it is that I BARELY know this guy. I blew him off at some point in the past, and it seems that since those few encounters, he's been building this arsenal of analysis against me through my blog that has just built and built and built into this explosion. He not only insulted me, he insulted Allison Dumka, Dallas, a number of my other friends, informed me that Kyle Sanders has been ripping me behind my back over the past two years, but since I haven't really given a shit about this Donald Trump-hair, cartoony motherfucker since I decided that I didn't want a Macy's Parade balloon-shaped person in my immediate vicinity, there was no way I could go on the counter-offensive, aside from surface-level shit. It was a cowardly, cowardly thing for him to do and it took all of my fuckin' strength to not punch him in his dinner plate-face then and there.
However, I'm a mature person and I took it in stride, deciding that attacking somebody in a public place and potentially drawing police attention, along with a ban from a bar that I would like to visit again in the last month I'm spending in Tucson, wasn't worth the satisfaction I would have gotten from tearing his head off.
Anyway, in light of this situation, I've decided to make my journals Friends Only, not only because I don't want this sort of thing to happen again with some obsessive nut-case, but just because Carly is at least partially right in the fact that NO-ONE wants a record of their feelings on the internet for everybody to see in this information-overloaded world, and although I won't follow her lead in completely deleting and censoring everything I write, I will take some sort of protective measure as to prevent future incursions and attacks on my person like on Sunday.
One last thing: Since I'm human - and not a moral paragon - I'm going to put a disclaimer on this, as I know I have a large number of readers. Keep an eye out for Jason McCoy. He thinks he's a shoe-in for Ivy League because he got a 4.0 in SBS at a fuckin' state school in Economics and interned for a second-rate non-profit (which he claims to "own"), but I guarantee you that in ten years, we will re-evaluate and see who's got their shit down. Because I guarantee that you don't act the way he does and succeed in the world, no matter if you have the good-ol' Trump "Onion Bulb" or not.
Peace to my hatas.