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From Journals -- Michelle | Life and the pastBY: Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Category: Writing | Submitted: 2012-05-29 01:37:45
I quit working at McDonald's due to disgust over leaking garbage bags, ketchup messes, smoking inside the building, and the general morale of staff. One young woman felt the need to bring up abortion with me, and at the time I had mixed feelings, and she simply asked me if I knew where she could get one. I became irate and told her that I did not agree with it, which I did not at the time, feel that abortion was acceptable. In later years, I would change my perspective, though I am against multiple abortions. Abortion is not to be used as a convenient replacement for birth control by women who sleep around and dislike the use of condoms, the Pill, diaphragms, or other forms of contraception. They hate for their partying to be interrupted, along with their active sex lives.
Michelle showed me some pictures of herself, stretched on a car, in rather compromising positons. She was sex addict and a narcissist, an entertaining one, and I assumed that she had requested to have the pictures taken, and envisioned a future for her a model at car shows, complete with skimpy lingerie and stilettos, and gowns made out of tarp material and covered in studs.
It turns out that Lawrence took the pictures, early on in our relationship, while Michelle was still a minor, and had not sought her permission, as he had loaded her up with alcohol and pills. Michelle, as you will learn later on, was very fond of syrups and pills, and her three psychiatrists provided her with an ample supply of medications, along with pharmacists who gave her behind-the-counter codeine-laced cough syrup. She eventually got a prescription for the stronger stuff, and moved on to tranquilizers.
One, a black man, grabbed my hips three times until I yelled at him to leave me alone. Then, a Native man pushed himself up against me, and thought I was being difficult. I pushed myself away, and went on to perform a set of poetry, which was the last time I ever went to the Grateful Fed Cafe. In a society that treats dogs better than women, I am not surprised that assault, rape, and sexual harassment still exist.
Most dogowners have more respect for their pets than their spouses, and this perspective disgusts me. People who are loathe to pay child support or daycare for their children lavish their pets with toys, daycare, obedience school, clothes, trips, and expensive food. Their message is clear: they care more for a nonhuman pet that contributes nothing to society, and even attacks innocent people, over other human beings. Some even get upset if you defend yourself against vicious dogs, as if the priority during an attack is the dog. I am not a fan of dogs, and do not afford them any special status over human beings.
I didn't date anyone in 1994, and would not begin another relationship until I met Allan. Allan initially spent his time with Michelle, and she seduced him one night after her fiance Donovan walked out. Donovan Pettigrew, an artist and student at Okanagan College, in the fine arts studies section, became irate about comments she made to his mother, when she was drunk at her condominium. He also admitted that he preferred the company of their mutual lover, Michael Rocheleau, to Michelle.
He left Michelle for Michael, since sex with him was more thrilling than their repeated threesomes. Mike had started sleeping over at her place, and quickly joined them at their mattress in a separate room. Mike ended up as a night swing manager at McDonald's, and apparently a used car salesman. He got a good deal on a BMW, and I suspect there was some other source of income. Mike was okay, and I talked to him.
Most of his conversations involved Nirvana and video games, and I quickly grew bored. Michelle had a habit of playing 'Live Unplugged from New York' all the time, through huge speakers that dominated the room. These speakers were twice the size of a large kitchen cabinet, were imported from Japan, and worth $1,300.
They belonged to Donovan, and she had Gordon take them back to his place in Peachland. Donovan returned to find Michelle in bed with Allan, or more accurately, he found her tanned and angular body spread over Allan's naked auburn genitals. Both were recovering from the use of magic mushrooms and extreme drunkenness off bottles of cheap, flavoured red wine and coolers. Disgusted, he left with an angry, red face. I know that Allan felt awful about this, and described the incident in detail to me. I told him to forget about it.
Michelle had seduced him after starting an eight-hour tirade against Donovan, and falling into Allan's arms with her crying fits and threats of suicide and revenge. I felt he had allowed her to manipulate him, and wanted the matter forgotten. He would go on about this incident, and how he betrayed his best friend, for years. I hated the focus on this incident, and found myself out on Highway 33 bear-watching and listening to Bryan Adams while he discussed this matter. His obsession in this incident was part of his alcoholic downfall, or relapse into addiction. I ended our relationship partly because of this preoccupation, which annoyed me to no end, along with slow dancing to Bob Seger, bad biker bars, and his friend Frank.
Before the modern advent of the hook-up, which has now replaced regular expectations of dating and relationships, Michelle spent much of her time scanning crowds of men at nightclubs, malls, restaurants, music festivals and other places for suitable prey. The predator had a good eye, and automatic sex appeal when she walked through the door. Except for a few (feigned?) gay incidents at a young age, she was into young buckskins between the ages of 18 and 27, and employed a number of different lovers.
When it comes to relationships, I was never one of these stupid and arrogant people who feels that there is something wrong with rejection, or that I can change people into what I wanted. I fell in love with Gordon, a friend of Lawrence's, between April of 1994 and August of 1995. Unaware that he was gay, Michelle brought up his lack of female companionship repeatedly, and I came to accept the inevitable. Closeted as he was, he admitted his homosexuality at a bar in Westbank on the night of Saturday, August 19, 1995. We were drinking rye and coke, always short on the rye, and listening to an odd mixture of Shania Twain, Willie Nelson, and bad techno at 11 at night. Michelle ordered an Alabama Slammer, insisting on a double.
A double in a Kelowna bar means 1.5 oz, not three, but then again, most waitresses and bartenders can't tell the difference between a well-done grilled chicken burger, and a deep-friend spicy breaded chicken burger. Gordon detailed his agony over his lovelife and confessed that he preferred sex in bathrooms with lovers, and that he was a loner. He disliked relationships, period, and only pretended to date women to cover up his homosexuality. I accepted what he said, and we remained friends, and I refused to admit my feelings, as there was no point in it, and let the matter go. I was disappointed, and yet, relieved. I am happy for Gordon, and hope that he is doing well. There was no vindictiveness, depression, anger or disappointment on my part.
I am a very extreme libertarian, which started off with support for classical liberalism. I believe in no authority above the self, and no recognition of any authority above the self. Law should exist only to protect man's natural born rights, which belong to us at birth, and when we come into society at eighteen, the age of majority, it is not to be disputed that we are the sole originators of our actions, and are solely responsible for our actions. I support absolute free speech, freedom of expression, an unregulated economy, significant cutbacks to social programs, personal responsibility, open trade, open borders, deregulated immigration, electoral rights, direct democracy with free votes, constitutionally-recognized liberal democracy, and the absence of sanctions in trade.
Canada is at risk of becoming an mysoginistic country, with high rates of domestic violence, infidelity, sexual harassment, criminal harassment, anti-abortion protesters, and men offended by women who want to work outside the home. Many men abandon their pregnant girlfriends and refuse to pay child support, even losing their passports, driver's licenses, and spending weekends in jail. There is also a lot of prostitution and homelessness here, which is inexcusable. There is still rape, and pornography has swamped the Internet. There is no point in glorifying the status of women in this country, if you are a few steps away from becoming Iran. Canada lacks the psychological muscle to take a zero-tolerance approach to stalking, domestic violence, rape, kidnapping, murder, pedophilia, and harassment. Imagine if the attitude that we have towards women's and children's issues were applied to 911 bombers, and you can see what I mean. Canada is far too soft on violent crime.
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