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how_much_does_a_hemingway
sacramentalist

errata

I've been looking at some of the things I have in storage. I tossed a lot of old crap with the flood, but much survived. And it's a cringe fest.

I forgot how much of a smart-ass misogynist edge-lord I was in HS, especially since I was friends with women. Thankfully, I grew out of it. I only wish more men did. I was a delayed bloomer. And I learned a lot of confusing messages. None of my male or female friends were in couples. I actually wrote an anti-woman ode for a He-Man Women Haters Club. It was ironically sexist. And I'm ashamed of the whole thing.

I know where some of that comes from: any time a guy bullied me, or tried to cut me down, it was usually in front of a woman, and she laughed along, or acted like it was OK. But in retrospect, did I always stand up when someone was bullied or laugh nervously with the group? Probably not.

I remember one time I stood up for a bullied person and I ended up with my glasses broken. I ended up just being annoyed with the original victim (and a contempt for the bully which lingers to today and he is a customer and he is still an asshole and his wife is an asshole) and I learned to just vanish, while at the same time be bitter I wasn't noticed.

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I found a two-page university newspaper article about getting over a boyfriend -- written by my ex. I saved it because I was the topic of someone's art -- even if it was full of pot-shots. A little bit of anger goes a long way. I was a muse! I was the original Dave Coulier! And she was funny. She talks about she likes to paint to get over someone. First time, she painted the house. The next time? A room. To get past me? She did her nails. See? Hahaha.

---

Anyway, how do I let go of the few shitty things I've ever done or said? It's not me, now.

And, yikes! I sure hope I didn't say or do anything that anyone else is holding a 30 year grudge for.

I'll just focus on becoming an avatar of kindness and love.

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I was the oldest by in the family--so I had to get involved all my younger sibling's fights. Lucky me, I was also six feet tall by the end of 7th grade. So I generally loomed over their enemies, talked lotsa shit and watched them wet themselves.

I am digging my way through boxes that have been stored in my parents' house since childhood/high school/college/early 20s. It is hard. Half the time I just open a box, see what's on top, and shove it back in a corner.

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