Done. It is done.
I went to court this morning. My lawyer talked to the prosecutor before the court session, and came back with a fucking amazing deal:
The charge was lessened to driving on an invalid license, which carries no jail time. I had to pay a $210 fine. And that’s it. I’m done with it, and it’s not going on my record.
Thank God it’s over.
This MSNBC article irks me. Claiming that song lyrics are responsible for an increase in sexual activity in teens seems like a very small-minded view. How about factoring in other forms of media? What percentage of these kids has seen an American Pie movie, or watched The OC or Laguna Beach (while I’ve never watched either show, their previews contain some fairly steamy action)? We live in a culture that is all about promoting sex to teens. There are tons of things other than song lyrics that need to be taken into consideration.
I never listened to much sexually explicit music when I was younger (I don’t now, actually). But I remember hearing Liz Phair’s Exile In Guyville when I was twelve. I’m thinking of one song in particular, a song called Flower. Here are some of the lyrics:
I want to fuck you like a dog; I want to be your blowjob queen; I’ll fuck you ’til your dick is blue.
Now I will admit that this had a small effect in shaping my view of sexuality, but it certainly didn’t have any bearing on when I started having sex. I heard that song and others like it at twelve, and didn’t have sex until I was nineteen (well, okay, depends on your definition of sex, but still). I realize that the article is likely referring to more of the hardcore rock and rap songs, stuff about “fuckin’ bitches and hos” and god-knows what else (though I’m not trying to pigeonhole either genre, there’s good along with the bad). But I really think that has more to do with shaping male and female roles than it does promoting sex. It’s the same thing with drugs in music. Whether it be The Beatles and “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” or Tom Petty and “Mary Jane”, songs don’t influence me to do drugs. Well, except one (“Rain In England” makes me pine for a good hallucinogen). Anyway, there is one voice of reason in the article:
“It’s a little dangerous to just pinpoint one thing. You have to look at everything that’s going on in a young person’s life,” she said. “When somebody has a healthy sense of themselves, they don’t take these lyrics too seriously.”
Exactly.
Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about here. But I would like to point out the startling inconsistency between media and parents/teachers. Once again, we live in a culture that promotes sex to teens. However, a great majority of schools teach abstinence-only sex ed (especially in the South). We have a problem here. No wonder kids are confused.
Let me start by saying that this is gonna be a difficult entry. I’m having major issues figuring out how to write it. It needs out, but I’m not sure it’s going to come out well. I hope you’ll bear with me.
I just got back from spending five days in Denver with my dad. There’s been something gnawing at me all week, and here it is: Do I love my father?
I really have no idea how to answer that question. His past sins are forever imprinted in my mind. The alcoholism, the disappearing, the verbal abuse. No ten year-old kid should ever have to hear their mother called a whore. He really fucked up.
But all that happened over a decade ago. I’ve forgiven him for it. I have, right? But then I really think about it. I don’t trust him with any personal info about me. He knows nothing of my sexuality, of the people I’ve dated, of my friends. There’s this wall that stays up when I’m around him. I don’t feel comfortable telling him these things. That makes me think that maybe I haven’t actually forgiven him. And I feel like an asshole for it.
Introducing he and Enji this week (oh yeah, I saw Enji the other day!) was kind of a scary thing for me. She’s the only one of my friends he’s ever met. I’m completely comfortable around her. Instead of putting on a face, I’m myself. I think it’s the closest I’ve come to being “normal” around my dad, and that’s very weird for me. Mixing someone who knows some of the most private things about me with someone who, when it comes down to it, doesn’t know me at all… well, I kinda spazzed. I think I hid it well enough, but I was feeling particularly vulnerable that night.
I hide things from him. I don’t disclose any personal details of my life. It’s always a “Hey, how are you?”- “Oh, I’m fine” situation. He heard about the arrest only because he had to, as it affected the timing of the trip. But would I have told him otherwise? I’m not sure.
I get the feeling I’m being entirely unfair to my dad. He loves me, that’s obvious. He really does care. Yet I shut him out, though I try and be subtle enough as to not hurt his feelings. And there it is: I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I feel compelled, not obligated, to call him. I think it would be a shame (and something I would forever regret) if I didn’t have a relationship with my father. My brother has shut him out completely, no communication-style. At least I’m still trying, right? Is that love? It’s certainly not the same love I feel for my friends (hell, for my mother even). Am I being a total fuck, or is this really the best way to handle the situation?
I feel like such a dick. He would love to really know me. But I can’t share that with him. I don’t think I can.
Argh. I’m so conflicted (I know, I know, what’s new?). I think I’m gonna have to give this one some time. Maybe it’ll work itself out.
On a much less serious note, I also got to meet the very cool Eric while I was in Denver. Awesome guy. I hope he shows up around here at some point.
P.S. Oh, and as for the Charlie thing: he was online ten minutes ago, and was completely monosyllabic and standoff-ish when I tried to chat with him. Guess that’s over. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.