Procrastination
I have a paper due on Tuesday on mandatory sentencing. I have a mid-term on the same day in my history class (you have ANY idea how much shit happened between 1900-1930? A lot.). I've done nothing more than take out a bunch of books on the prison system, and studied until roughly 1916. That was five hours of studying yesterday. Killer.
In the meantime, I'm going to go off on a little rant here, just to take my mind off of our faltering penal system and "big stick" diplomacy. Here we go.
You may recall me mentioning "The Victim" in these pages. "The Victim" would be my ex boyfriend, Bob Melvin. I have no problem writing his name out, because, honestly, he deserves all of the embarrassment the world has to give. Bob is little more than an annoying memory in a "How could I have been so dumb" sort of way. Though he was a cocksucker, he really helped me to understand who I was. I have grown more in the almost two years since that breakup than I have since I was 18. I know more about myself, my dreams, my tolerances, my loves. But, it's not like I wouldn't have found those things out, it just would have happened later rather than sooner.
Bob was a perpetual victim. The type of person that is owed a debt by the world because of the bad things that have happened to him in his life. His father took his own life when he was eight. Very sad. His mother married a man who was horribly abusive to him and his brothers. Awful. His mother died when he was about 20. Terrible. These things are truly bad things. His mom let the abuse occur; therefore he had this deep-seeded hatred for her, masked by this Oedipusian reverence for her.
While many people take things like this and use them to fuel their success (the "I'll show them" types), Bob instead spent every hour of every day making people feel bad. When he'd see an unattractive person, he'd laugh in their face "Ugh!” When someone was walking on the side of the road, he'd yell "slut!" or something to that effect. His friends were the most cowardly of all. He would treat them like shit, would actually tell me how much he hated them, loathed them. He'd say things like "I can do what I want to them because they'll never leave." He referred to them as his "minions". I thought for two years that he would change: until he did it to me. He actually is mentally ill, which is sad, sort of, but sad in a way that you feel for prisoners when you know they're a little slow, but they think they're really clever and evil.
I left him while he was at work, after he threatened to kill me and my dog. He started cutting up his legs saying "Look what you're making me do!” He would tell me that no one could ever love me the way he did. Classic signs of sociopathic manipulation. He does it to his friends, and his lovers. The smartest thing I ever did was stay on top of birth control. My heart goes out to the mother of his son.
So, this all behind me, I started my life over. I got a great job, a great apartment, and about 6 months later, I started dating M. Moved to Dallas last spring, things are moving along. Bob was completely gone from my life. Just another trainwreck of a relationship to use as a warning to my friends when they start falling for the "Sleeping with the Enemy" guy.
Until the other day, when I got an email from an old co-worker from Cape Cod. Bob has moved to Texas. How the fuck does this happen? How laaaaame. I mean, he's in Austin, so that's not a big deal. But, he's trying to start his band, Romero, up again, which means he'll try to play Dallas. The thing is, he'll fail. Not because Austin is a very hard music scene for the MOST original bands, but because they suck. So, I just hope that I don't ever bump into him, especially with M. I would guarantee his music career would be over mighty fast. But of all of the states in the country, this jackass has to come to mine.
I rarely get that girlie "I hope my boyfriend kicks your ass" thing, but man, this one really, really deserves it.