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September Surrender: Day 8

What I’m Letting Go: Sail Off It

Sometimes I wonder if human beings are incapable of being judgy. People like to think they don’t judge, but they do. We all do. It all just depends on how we do it, and whether or not it becomes a detriment to you or whoever is on the receiving end of it.

Two years ago I took a trip to Ft. Lauderdale. I can’t really remember what prompted the trip, I just wanted to go and hang out with a friend who lived down there. It was a quick trip and I was mostl by myself, but I did spend time on an air boat and a catamaran while there. On that catamaran, there was a group of three women who were having a girl’s weekend. They were in their forties, and the thought of even having a “girl’s weekend” felt weird to me. I didn’t really talk to them while we were sailing, but toward the end, one of them came up to me and invited me out with them after we docked. At first I was going to say no since I’m on grandma hours (and I was leaving the next day) but I figured I’m on vacation so why not?

We all Ubered downtown to a bar with way too loud music and I extended the beer drinking I had done on the boat. They were asking me questions about my life and I felt like an interesting little star they were just dazzled by. I was getting the feeling that the woman who invited me out was hitting on me, but I didn’t mind. I’m open-minded and was on vacation anyway. Plus, she shared a joint with me outside that was the craziest bud I’d ever smoked. It’s also probably how I ended up getting covid. But that’s not important right now.

We got back in the bar and I was on cloud nine, drunk and high, in Florida, tan, partying it up, feeling like I still ‘got it,’ even if the only person who hit on me the entire trip was a woman. I wanted to buy everyone a drink so I asked around the table, mildly forgetting that one of them already told me she doesn’t drink. She said it again and I heard the annoyance in her voice when she had to tell me again. I came back to the table after ordering the drinks and heading to the bathroom to find she was no longer at the table. Her friends said she just had to step away for a bit, so my selfish ass naturally thought I had something to do with it. I kept trying to convince the ladies we should go somewhere where we could actually hear each other speak but that ended up not happening. Their friend came back with a chocolate cake she had gotten at a nearby shop and I could tell she was upset. My stoned self couldn’t handle the awkwardness anymore, so I finally told her how sorry I was for asking her if she wanted a drink. She tried telling me it was fine, but then it transformed into, “I’m sober one year today so thanks for reminding me.” I felt like a total asshole and apologized profusely and tried to make up for it after I realized I judged this woman unfairly without getting to know her. I stayed for another half-hour or so, trying to have normal conversations, especially with her, but with how loud it was in there, I just gave up and left.

I still carry guilt about that, especially as I saw that trip as me really coming into my own. It just confirmed that my filter isn’t always as on point as I think it is. While I do think I need to let go of some of this guilt about my actions, I have to realize it was merely a learning experience. To keep my judgments at rest for just a little longer. Not everyone needs to be subjected to my own thoughts, especially in a way where I essentially end up c*ckblocking myself. Don’t judge me.

What I’ve Discovered: Accidental Expos√©

Years ago, when YouTube didn’t squeeze me out of the algorithm, I had a lot of fun just slinging shit about things I found stupid. Bands, TV shows, movies, nothing was safe from my wrath. Twelve years ago, I was patrolling online one night when I discovered this “band” called Blood on the Dance Floor. I saw two idiots dressed up like a rainbow threw up on them who were singing highly sexualized and inappropriate songs with the intention of aiming them at kids. The lead singer was also roiled in a controversy surrounding the girl turned internet meme Jessi Slaughter, where there were accusations of sexual abuse toward a minor being lobbed.

I had seen enough and was so incensed that I got out of bed and made a video about it. It was just a silly “ha ha hey subscribers look how douchey these guys are” kind of video, but I didn’t realize what kind of hornets nest I had unknowingly kicked. For years after that, I’d get comments about how dare I criticize such an inspirational and awe-inspiring band, how I was just a hater and jealous of their success. The lead singer Dahvie Vanity even got involved, commenting on the video and tweeting about me. He was well aware of who I was, and so were his preteen fans. I don’t blame the kids, they didn’t know any better. And he became sort of a punchline over the years during my YouTube career.

But after I made the video, more pieces of information started coming out about him. There were videos of him mooning a crowd of teenagers at a show, a video of him splashing water on a 13-year-old’s face and licking it off, a video where he got a young-looking girl drunk and had her show off for the camera, and yes, more accusations of underage girls joining him on his tour bus. He’s apparently still making music, but I like to think my 4 minute rant from 2010 helped put this creep on the pervert map, and I have my snap judgment to thank for that. I like to think I had enough of an impact to make people more aware of these kinds of occurrences, and to let you know that a gut instinct is usually on the mark. My channel will never be back in the algorithm again, but I can safely say I did my due diligence in exposing this guy for the rest of the world to pass judgment on for life.

What I Hope to Find: An End to the Mask Madness

I’m doing that thing again where I’m staring people down on the street who are still masked the eff up in September 2023. I just don’t understand it. I’ve written about this before. With all we know about how much they don’t work when you’re not actively sick, what’s the point of still wearing one, especially outside? That part never made sense to me. I covered my face outside for all of two weeks at the very beginning when no one knew what was going on and I was cosplaying as a character from the Fallout series. After that, I saw no need to cover my healthy face when I was exposed to the clear air. One time in 2020 I was walking to get some soup when an old man, I mean really old man, stopped me in my tracks to shout, “Wear a mask! Wear a mask!” at me, while pointing to his own. I can’t remember what I said, if I said anything, but did pop one on my face before going into the shop. I still complied for a bit before I became a defiant little brat in June 2020 and let everyone know I had stopped playing their game.

They’re trying to scare us again. They want to have pandemic round two. Stay masked up and scared about it. The CDC is telling those of us who never received a shot to make sure we get the older versions of the vaccine first before getting their updated boosters, because apparently they only work in a certain efficacy order. It’s all a lie. It was all based on a lie. And I wouldn’t be shocked if one day you have military tribunals for those who purposefully created and unleashed this evil upon us.

New York has always been a little different about it. We were the first to have “vaccine passports,” which turned into mandates for the public sector then the private sector. It took them over a year to stop all the madness, but the lingering effects remain. I worry all the time what will happen to those still beholden to the mask when the illusion gets inevitably shattered, but this is where I’d like to think I can be a source of healing for them, no matter how hard I may have judged in the past. I’d love for all of my skepticism and acumen to hold some kind of meaning, as it turns out I was fighting for freedom, not for tyranny. Perhaps it’ll come sooner than we think. Until then, I can breathe confidently with my decisions while raising an eyebrow at others’. But hey, not my body, not my choice. At least I’m not a hypocrite.

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