Most of the hateful comments that people have added to various hate-blogs about me have concentrated on calling me crazy, a b----, saying I should be raped, beaten, murdered, etc. A few of them have been along the lines of calling me ugly.
I have no problem with people thinking that I'm ugly. People who say things just because they want to be mean are usually bullies, and I don't want to encourage bullying; however, if all of the things that people had said at that blog and others, and if the conglomerate's propaganda about me, had always been nothing except screaming about how ugly I am, the SICK, SADISTIC, ILLEGAL videos of me might never have gotten an audience, might never have been heard of, might never have been filmed.
I am not as beautiful as I was in 2010, when the conglomerate formed around its torture of me and began its global crusade to destroy the rights of women, children and dissenters; poverty and intolerable stress don't tend to improve the appearance of most people who experience them, particularly when those things are experienced together. In 2010, I was not as beautiful as I was a few years before 2010. I turned 30 in 2004, and that's life.
What I have realized yet again, at the age of 40, is that beauty, although it is nice to have and nice to be around when others have it, has a power among the unwary and the unthinking that it ought not to have. I first realized this, and lived painfully with the knowledge of it, through every one of my three years at a four-year college, when psychiatric medications made me overweight by 30 to 50 pounds every miserable year from the ages of 20 to 23.
Mr. Affleck's wife, Jennifer Garner, is beautiful and smart. I have always liked this picture of her, which is online:
There is a man coughing outside the window of my room at the psychiatric crisis stabilization unit, while I write this.
A rich person who forgot or decided to leave the car that he or she was driving by the side of the road could buy another car later that afternoon.
Unfortunately, a lot of people idolize the rich, and even more people idolize rich movie stars. Mr. Affleck and his wife, and everyone else who is like them, didn't just get mean and dumb by themselves; they took a lot of other people, who followed their example, with them.
It seems that Mr. Affleck was at the University of Vermont as a freshman when I was a senior in high school; that's what I'm gathering from the Internet, anyway. We never met; we have never met. I had never heard of him until I saw "Good Will Hunting" in the theater. He had never heard of me until somewhere between 2005 and 2007.
Sarcasm Alert:
It was destiny thwarted, all right. If he'd attended UVM for all four years, he might have seen me from afar, when I was on my way to or from a psychiatric unit at what was then called the Medical Center Hospital of Vermont. My first psychiatric admission to that hospital was from the spring to the summer of 1992. I know, from personal experience, that what every young man of traditional college age wants is to date a young woman who could not write a truthful essay about how she spent her 18th summer unless the title and subject of the essay were "The months that I spent in a psychiatric unit at my local hospital."
If he had stayed at UVM, I might have served him fast food, or sold him pens and paper, or an article of clothing that he bought to give to a girl that he liked, during his times of patronage at stores and food places. I might have swept and mopped a floor that he had walked on and taken out trash that he had thrown away. I also know, from personal experience, how impressed young, male college students are with women their age who aren't college students, who live with their parents and work at menial labor. If those woman are beautiful, those college men really respect them! If they're not particularly beautiful, those college men look right past the menial labor uniform and all that it signifies, look right past their temporary servants' lack of beauty, right past the despair of those servants about their own lives, to the creativity, warmth, and intelligence of their servers' personalities. Everybody knows that!
End of Sarcasm Alert
I could give many more examples describing what my life was like during the years before Mr. Affleck heard of me; I'd rather not.
If I had weighed 200 pounds when Mr. Affleck first read my writing, I don't think he would have fallen into what he considers love with me; none of them would have. He, and they, would probably have thought I was a good writer, thought I was funny, agreed with each other that I have talent, and shared the thought, spoken or not, "The love of my life, if she were pretty." If I had a missing limb, face burned with acid, were actually bald and had worse teeth, if it were true that I have horrible body odor or vaginal fluid excess that could drown a nation, I don't think that the consuming fire of obsessive, helpless passion from which so many of them have purported to be suffering while they show off their leading-man versions of themselves to the world would have had so much as a spark. Mr. Affleck would not have risked his marriage and the cohesiveness of the family that he has with Ms. Garner; at least, he wouldn't have risked those things over me, and he wouldn't have tried to stop me from dating other people.
It is sometimes said that a beautiful soul beautifies a less-than-beautiful physical being and vice versa. If that saying were more true than it is, the world would be a better place. Many people equate physical beauty with desirable character traits, or consider it to be as important or more important than character. I think that many people also don't look past a person's physical beauty at what she doesn't have, and has never had.
Copyright, except for the picture of Ms. Garner, L. Kochman, September 26, 2014 @ 6:29 p.m./edited @ 6:37 p.m.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.