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Alys Marchand

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Alys Marchand

Monthly Archives: May 2014

Fifty Shades of Ana: Moving Day

31 Saturday May 2014

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All bold text is from quoted directly from the book.

Saturday, May 28th (bumped to Saturday, May 31st)

I am pea green with envy that Kate has someone like Elliot.  He’s warm, open…  Unlike Christian, Elliot helped us move.  He had to leave for a while, but is back in Kate’s room now.  While he was gone, a bottle of champagne and a helicopter balloon were delivered from you-know-who.  Kate asked if I had given him our new address, and I told her, “No, but stalking is one of his specialties.”  She tole me he worries her.  Me too, Kate, and I wish you had said this on Tuesday after he raped me instead of insisting he was merely interested in me.


Met # of days ago: 19

Days with contact: 10

Number of days dating: 7

Reading Rainbow!

28 Wednesday May 2014

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readingrainbowlogoWho doesn’t remember Reading Rainbow?  This show holds a special place in my heart.  As a kid, I loved to read.  What a surprise, right?  I was reaching chapter books in kindergarten, writing books of my own soon after, and continued reading everything I could get my hands on.  Charlotte’s Web, True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, The Doll in the Garden, Stonewords…  I used to charge my brother $10 to do his book reports for him.  He usually waited until the night before to ask, and since I could blow through a book like a tornado, well, I may be the reason he got through school.  That’s what I’m sticking to. 😀

Reading wasn’t so popular.  I was teased mercilessly for always having my nose in a book, for loving to read and learn and get good grades.  So many time I cried my heart out, wishing with all my might to wake up different and to hate reading and love the things everyone else loved (e.g. hanging out with the bad kids listening to Vanilla Ice pretending to be little thugs calling each other racial slurs I don’t care to type out).  Belle’s treatment resonated with me more than I admit.

belle

But when Reading Rainbow would be shown in class, the kids who taunted me and stole my books from me and called me a nerd and a geek back before it was cool, back when Saved by the Bell and Family Matters treated geeky kids the kindest…

nerd nerdsFor that 20 minutes, those kids thought books were pretty awesome, and I felt okay with myself.  When the teacher asked who read the books featured in that episode and I could raise my hand, I felt like that butterfly in the sky flying twice as high for knowing the endings that the other kids wanted to know at that moment, even if most of them would never follow through with finding out on their own.

I was pretty crushed when the last episode was filmed in 2006.  I was pretty excited when the iPad app was launched in 2012.  I’m beyond myself with excitement that there’s now a Kickstarter campaign to launch it as a desktop application and to get it into schools!  Watching the donations tick higher and higher makes me want to cry from joy, seeing how many people who remember the series, many who may not have read so much back then, some who were probably inspired and did start reading, either then or later, who are helping and want this brought to more kids.  The only thing that could top this would be to find out Mr. Rogers is still alive and well and is starting to film new episodes on his wonderful neighborhood.

I’m rather ticked off at a writer at the Washington Post for her attempt to get people to not donate.  Not only does she not understand why this project can’t be done for free, but she slams how the show isn’t teaching kids HOW to read (apparently there’s no value in getting kids excited to read in the first place).  She tries claiming that this project has a goal of too much money based on PBS’s program director stating it would cost “several hundred thousand dollars” to start the show back up, meaning that RR is asking for too much now.  Well, someone doesn’t understand that now only was that amount merely to get the show restarted and not inclusive of ongoing expenses, but the RR campaign now includes the fees Kickstarter will charge (if the campaign reaches $1mil, Kickstarter will get $50,000, and it’ll go up from there), plus the cost of the awards, some including a lot of travel, nor does she understand how expensive it is to hire people with the skills necessary to bring this all to fruition.  Does she really think that delivering content is free?   That maintaining it costs nothing more than well-wishes?

This is a big project, and it needs help.  It needs to go far beyond the original goal.  The higher it can go, the more classrooms that will have access to all of this.  Estimates are anywhere between 25,000 and 30,000 classrooms in the United States.  How wonderful if every classroom could have this.  If you can, please consider helping!!

 

 

Fifty Shades of Ana: I’m so scared

26 Monday May 2014

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All bold text is from quoted directly from the book.

Monday, May 23rd (bumped to Monday, May 26th)

He raped me.  That fucker raped me!!  I didn’t see that coming.  I think he thought he bought me since he sent mea MacBook Pro this morning.  We had an exchange of e-mails and he ordered me to look up Submissive, and that made me sick to my stomach.  I don’t want to give up all my rights to my body!!  Three months.  I thought I could do that.  I can.  I could.  I don’t know!  I sent him an e-mail I meant as a joke.  Okay, I’ve seen enough.  It was nice knowing you.  But he didn’t know it was a joke.  I thought he’d reply right back, but he didn’t.  I started packing my room for Kate’s and my move to Seattle, but Christian showed up.  And I mean he showed UP!  Kate wasn’t here, and I didn’t open the door.  It’s always locked.  He broke in!  He told me he felt [my] email warranted a reply in person.  Okay, but to break the fuck in?!  And just invited himself into my bedroom.  I glance around it, plotting an escape route.  There’s a window with a dead-drop, and the door.  I was stuck.

“It’s very serene and peaceful in here,” he murmurs.  Not at the moment… I thought.  Not with you here.

How am I going to dig myself out of this?  If I tell him it was a joke, I don’t think he’ll be impressed.

“Well, I thought I should come and reming you how nice it was knowing me.”

Okay.  I was not getting out of this.  I was stuck, and so lunged for him, figuring if I take the lead, maybe I’ll be safer.  But he didn’t like that, tied me up, and decided he wanted my feet.  Since I had just been running, I wasn’t comfortable with that.

“No,” I protest, trying to kick him off.

Did he listen?  Fuck no.

“If you struggle, I’ll tie your feet too.  If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you.  Keep quiet.  Katherine is probably outside listening right now.”

Of course he knows I don’t want to be overheard, but should me telling him no tell him I mean NO?!  I didn’t agree to be his sub.  MY NO STILL MEANS NO!!!!

And even though he said Kate might be here, he got naked and went to the kitchen anyway.  What the hell?  So he didn’t care if she got startled by seeing him?  I wish she had been there.  After he finished, and my body betrayed me by giving him the response he wanted, he told me he could introduce me to one of his former subs, the one who molested him.  Is he deliberately trying to upset me?  On top of all else he’s already done?  I finally got him to leave, and by then I could hear Kate in her room on the phone  I don’t know if she got home before he went out there naked, or after, but I want to scream.

But then I got confused.  I’m no longer angry with him, I feel suddenly unbearably shy.  I don’t want him to go.  For the first time, I’m wishing he was — normal — wanting a normal relationship that doesn’t need a ten-page agreement, a flogger, and karabiners in his playroom ceiling. 

Now I feel like a receptacle — an empty vessel to be filled at his whim.

He did at least pick up me being upset, and asked if I was okay.  I told him I was, though in all honesty I’m just not sure.  I feel a paradigm shift.  I know that if I do this thing with him, I will get hurt.  He’s not capable, interested or willing to offer me any more.

The surge of jealousy I felt only moments ago tells me that I have deeper feelings for him than I have admitted to myself.

He finally left, and I broke.  I have an overwhelming urge to cry, a sad and lonely melancholy grips and tightens round my heart.  Dashing back to my bedroom, I close the door and lean against it trying to rationalize my feelings.  I can’t.  Sliding to the floor, I put my head in my hands as my tears begin to flow.

Kate tried to make me feel better, but it didn’t help.  She said he was interested in me, like it’s a good thing.  I tried claiming some control and e-mailed him what I wanted changed about the contract and he got mad at me and e-shouted GO TO BED ANASTASIA.

How can he intimidate me when he’s six miles away?  I don’t know, but he does, and tonight I will have a troubled sleep.


Met # of days ago: 14

Days with contact: 7

Number of days dating: 2

UC Santa Barbara murders–QUIT BLAMING WOMEN!!

26 Monday May 2014

Posted by Author Alys Marchand in Uncategorized

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After yesterday’s murders, I put the scheduled posts for Fifty Shades on Ana back into draft mode for a few days.  I’ll back-post them in a few days, and continue on track.  But for right now, I’m still processing the gut-punch of what happened yesterday.

Normally murders (you may notice that I avoid calling this a shooting, and the reason for this is that the first half of the murder victims, his own roommates, were stabbed to death, and were the largest concentration of those killed, making this something that can not be neatly summed up as a shooting) where six people are killed, and more than that injured but who survived, gets media attention for a few days, then fades.  I have friends overseas who rarely hear about our mass-killings.  Of course Sandy Hook made massive news, but six murders and a suicide are almost par for the course, regardless of weapon used.  What sets yesterday’s killings apart is that we know why the killer did it, and the reason shows so clearly how deeply entrenched misogyny is in America, and the world.

You girls have never been attracted to me. I don’t know why you girls aren’t attracted to me. But I will punish you all for it. It’s an injustice, a crime, because I don’t know what you don’t see in me. I’m the perfect guy. Yet you throw yourselves at all these obnoxious men. Instead of me. The supreme gentleman. I will punish all of you for it [laughter].

It gets worse.

On the day of retribution, I am going to enter the hottest sorority house of UCSB [University of California, Santa Barbara], and I will slaughter every single spoiled, stuck-up, blonde slut I see inside of there. All of those girls that I’ve desired so much. They would have all rejected me and looked down upon me as an inferior man if I ever made a sexual advance towards them. While they throw themselves at these obnoxious brutes. I’ll take great pleasure in slaughtering all of you. You will finally see that I am in truth the superior one. The true Alpha Male.

I’m not entirely sure what to say, which means this may be a rambling post.  It seems that why this is wrong should be self-evident.  Yet Elliot Rodger managed to write a 141-page manifesto (that link takes you directly to the entire thing), in which he even manages to blame his mother because how dare she not marry someone rich.  Apparently his father, who IS rich, was never rich enough.  Of course the fault is his mother’s….

I will always resent my mother for refusing to do this. If not for her sake, she should have done it for mine. Joining a family of great wealth would have truly saved my life. I would have a high enough status to attract beautiful girlfriends, and live above all of my enemies. All of my horrific troubles would have been eased instantly. It is very selfish of my mother to not consider this.

Nothing was good enough, yet he clearly thought himself better than others.  How dare we women not go for a prize like him for his Beemer (I don’t think I can stomach getting another BWM after all this) instead of a “short, ugly Indian guy driving a Honda Civic.”

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IMAGE: SCREENSHOT BODYBUILDING.COM, FROM AN CACHED ARCHIVE

Never did it cross his mind that the reason no one wanted to have sex with him was his own attitude.  Contrary to what books like Fifty Shades want us to think, men who treat women like property are NOT desired by the general population.  Elliot made no secret about how he viewed himself as better than others.  Men obsessed with themselves (his Facebook page is little more than a depository for selfies and pictures of his cars) and adopt a sense of ownership are not going to find many women, if any, who are going to fawn all over him and want to hop into his sack.  Believe it or not, World, there ARE things that matter more than wealth.

Well, we can say his rantings and views are the ramblings of a deranged, misogynistic asshole.  We could, if he wasn’t being held up as a beacon against feminism, hailed as a hero, viewed as a pawn for “the Feminist Agenda.”

Elliot Rodger was a hero, even though he was a shill for Feminist Propaganda. He helped show us that we need to shut down Tumblr and Reddit, because they are sexist and cause mass murders.

A new hashtag on Twitter has popped up, #YesAllWoman.  Time has chosen some to share, but all are worth reading.  Not surprisingly, there is now #YesAllPeople, which clearly was started by someone trying to detract from what #YesAllWomen is about.  It’s first use was a whine about how #YesAllWomen is so “tit for tat.”

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It’s second use on Twitter was an attempt at usurping a valid post a woman had made.

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But Mokgethwa says:

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Dominique Villarreal:

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Unsurprisingly, the forum Elliot seems to have loved most, PUA Hate, is “down for maintenance.  Yet if you go to the comments section of almost any article, and you’ll soon come by people sympathizing with him, feeling bad for his sexual frustrations.

As Salon pointed out, his actions have devalued lives.  I can’t even pick out just one comment to share here.  So many people are claiming he was merely mentally ill and didn’t have access to psychiatric treatment (according to his family, he had TWO doctors), and that his hatred of women is merely coincidental, and that claiming male privilege exists at all is itself a mental illness.

AltHouse discusses how the twisted turn the men’s rights movement has taken as influenced him.  In the comments, Bruce Hayden “treats” us with the comment, “What feminists need to understand is that misogyny is a natural and consequent result of feminism. The urge to procreate is one of the most basic of drives, and to be deprived of opportunities for such, in order for females to have more power over their own sexuality and choice of sex partners, means that this drive in a lot of males is going to be thwarted.“

How can we women be blamed for this?  What kind of sick, twisted logic can make us the real perpetrators of this violence?  Not only did Elliot claim that we are to blame through his YouTube videos and his manifesto, but others around the internet are saying we’re to blame.  Sure, we have plenty of articles talking about how we women shouldn’t have to live in fear of violence, and that violence must end, but there’s radio silence about how there is an attempt, by other people, to pin the blame on us.  Wow.  Why the silence about victim-blaming on this topic?

Misogyny exists not only in the violence that happens with woman as the primary targets (yes, there were men killed yesterday, more men than women, but his hatred of women started this, and his plan was to kill a sorority, which was thwarted by locked doors), but in the blame.  Those people saying one of us should have “taken one for the team” are essentially saying that we should open our legs to anyone who wants in because we might be pacifying a future-killer.  Wow, what a comforting thought….  Those expressing sympathy for Elliot’s sexual frustrations, and claiming it’s not fair that no one gave him sex, are once again putting it on our shoulders, making it the fault of women for not ensuring his sexual urges were satisfied.

Yes, sexual urges, not sexual needs.  Calling this desire a “need” makes sex into a right.  We have the right to pursue sex, but not the right to sex itself.  We have the right to have our NEEDS filled, such as the right to food, medical care, and safe shelter.  No one has the right to sex with another person.  There are two simple reasons.  First, there are other ways to relieve your hormones.  You’ve got hands.  Use ’em.  Second, and more important, if you have the right to sex, that means someone else would be obligated to give up the right to say no to avoid violating your supposed right.  You don’t NEED sex, you WANT sex.  You won’t die without it.  It’s not a right.  Period.

Sure, his urges weren’t satisfied, but that shouldn’t be made into my problem, or the problem of any other woman.  Blaming us for not attending to his “needs” insinuates that we get what we deserve when a man snaps and kills us, because this says we could have avoided it if only we’d let him penetrate our bodies.

No, it’s not our fault this happened.  No, we are not to blame now.  Every single person who says that this whole tragedy is the fault of feminists because we’re making sex unattainable to the men we don’t want to have sex with are all sick, twisted people.  Every person who is saying this is our fault, every person who sympathizes with him because the poor, poor little fellow couldn’t get someone to want to have sex with him, should all be ashamed.

All of you blames, think of your daughters.  How would you feel if someone violated her body?  How would you feel if someone blamed her for not giving a man the sex he thought he was entitled to?  That is how we women feel.  You are making victims out of ALL of us by telling us we’re awful, that we are the killers-by-proxy for not pacifying horny men.  Do us woman a favor.  SHUT UP AND GO TO HELL.

Fifty Shades of Ana: No longer a virgin, never his slave

25 Sunday May 2014

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All bold text is from quoted directly from the book.

Sunday, May 22nd (bumped to Sunday, May 25th)

I woke up alone.  Great.  He fucked me and walked out.  He’s a challenge now, and I don’t want to be some meaningless fling.  I found him playing the piano, and he made me go back to bed, even though the sheets were bloody.  I did fall back asleep, but I’m not sure how long.  When I did wake up for the day, I made breakfast, and for once Christian was in a nice mood!  Playful, even.  See, if he was like this all the time, I would be so happy.

He kind of ruined it by saying he wants to continue my training.  I don’t want to be meaningless, but maybe I should take this as just learning this stuff so I can be good with someone else.  He really ruined it by snapping at me and making me eat when I wasn’t really hungry.  I was until he tried making me stay over again, but he did give in, so I’ll get to go home this evening.  That killed the buzz I was riding. He just had to get mean.  Holy crap.  What was that all about?

Kate called and I let her know I’m not a virgin, but I have questions about some things.  I asked Christian if I can ask her, and he told me I can ask him.  So he’s the authority on vaginas?  It’s pretty clear that he thinks he owns me, and since he’ll stalk me and probably has snipers on staff, I think he does.

We took a bath, and I wasn’t even going to complain.  I needed that hot water, and he massaged my neck and shoulders.  My god, I need massages more.  I did like the way he washed me though.  It started off less sexual and more sensual.  My hormones are still in overdrive, but it was relaxing.

For the first time, I gave a guy a blow job.  I don’t know if he really liked it because I was good, or if he liked it because he knew I wasn’t experienced.  I used my teeth, but remembered afterward that teeth + penis = no. So maybe he liked my insecurity.  I didn’t like the taste of cum though.  I swallow quickly.  Ugh…I’m not sure about this.  It was like swallowing thick ocean water, and I was a bit nauseated.

We got out, and he told me to trust him.  Okay, so think bad was going to happen today, so I did trust him.  I didn’t have a choice, so I trusted him.  And it paid off with another orgasm.  Damn, I’m so sore. Raw and burning still.  And don’t guys have a time period they need a break?

He managed to upset me again though  After his mom came over for a minute, I wanted to make a call.  I just want to hear Kate’s voice.  But he got pissed thinking I wanted to call Jose.  “I don’t like to share, Miss Steele.  Remember that.  His quiet, chilling tone is a warning.  I like the sex, but I don’t know about him.  Holy crap.  I just wanted to call Kate, I want to call after him, but his sudden aloofness has left me paralyzed.

I really wanted to talk to Kate, and I was so scared when I told him I really needed to.  I guess I won when he said I could tell her some things, but I’m still upset and wanting to cry.  I wasn’t hungry either, but he made me have breakfast, and told me his mom’s friend had sex with him when he was a teenager.  I’m going to be processing that for a while.  Was he really raped, or is this manipulation?

He finally took me home, and I filled Kate in, and opened an envelop Christian gave me.  At first I laughed because he got my address so wrong.  There is no Green Street in Vancouver, and where the hell is a Haven Heights in Vancouver?  There’s the Hazel Dell area by I5, but no Haven Heights.

The rest of the contract pissed me off.  Royally pissed me off.  Everything from my clothes to where I can sleep and how much is dictated.  Fuck that!  Why should he get to decide everything?  Don’t I own my body?  I know he thinks he does, and I know part of me thinks he does because it’s frightening how much he can get into my life and screw things up.

And this is definitely temporary.  Three months, it said.  He expects me to Serve and obey in in all things.  All Things!  I shake my head in disbelief.  He expects literally all my free time, even time that might not be free.  He expects to deal with me as he pleases.  Holy shit.  I can do this for three months, right?  Just a hot fling?

Oh, I wish I’d never met him.  I feel alive right now, but maybe I’m just on high alert for danger.  I need sleep, so off to bed.  I’m not supposed to see him until Wednesday, so maybe I’ll get a physical break and begin to heal.


Met # of days ago: 13

Days with contact: 6

Number of days dating: 1

Fifty Shades of Ana: Oh my!

24 Saturday May 2014

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All bold text is from quoted directly from the book.

Saturday, May 21st (bumped to Saturday, May 24th)

Wow.  WOW WOW WOW!  Um.  Well.  I’m not sure what to make of today.  I got wasted last night, was stalked, and woke up in Christian’s bed at a hotel.  I felt rejected because he didn’t touch while I was passed out, not that I’d approve of that, but he doesn’t seem the sort who wouldn’t have his way anyway.  I thought there must be something wrong with me.  It even came with a sort of “it’s not you, it’s me,” warning.  “You should steer clear from me.”  It’s like he’s challenging me.

But then he confused me by saying he wouldn’t tough me without written consent.  Written consent!  What the hell?  Has he been accused of rape enough that he thinks he needs proof someone said yes?  So he wants me?  But them Mr. WTF-Does-He-Mean turned around and ole me I probably wouldn’t want to see him again.  He wants me, he wants me not.  Then he called his bodyguard and told him to send a helicopter later and he’ll take me to Seattle.  This didn’t feel life-flighted or anything.  More like the thing I’d need to be life-flighted from.

But in the elevator on the way out of the hotel!  Oh my god!  He kissed me!  One of those passionate kisses I’ve read about.  I swear I couldn’t breathe, but that could have been from his weight pressing me so hard against a wall. The kisses I’ve had before don’t hold a candle to this!  He knows what he’s doing all right.  He was pretty horny too.  Looking back, it’s funny.  His erection wasn’t as much as I thought it might be, but not bad.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss at work.  That sure made the day drag.  Who cares about drills and nails when my hormones were going crazy?  Christian picked me up from work and took me to the helicopter.  That ride was pretty neat, but nothing to write home about.  I was more distracted thinking about my damned sexual arousal and thinking I might die if he crashed.  He obviously didn’t.

When we got to his place, we got back on the topic of written consent and a contract about how I can’t tell anyone anything.  What am I, a free hooker?  He said his attorney insisted on it.  So what has he done, killed someone?  But all he wants is for me to not tell anyone if we do anything together.  Okay, fine.  So we’ll have a casual fling and no one has to know.  So I signed the non-disclosure, and he showed me this room he has.

It was out of a murder movie.  Red walls, a huge bed that was dark wood, and several things that looked like torture devices.  I couldn’t even process it.  I was just in shock!  He told me he wants me to please him, and I felt like I wanted to.  I want him to be damned delighted with me.  Maybe that’s how he won’t hurt me.  I can give him what he wants, make him happy, and he won’t do anything serious.

He showed me a sterile white room and said it would be mine on the weekends.  Okay, so if we do anything, it means I have to live with him and home no one asks anything because I can’t answer.  He showed me the contract he wants me to sign, but I don’t feel good about it.  He wants me to give him complete control of my life and let him beat on me.  I wouldn’t be allowed to eat any food he doesn’t approve of, and I have to get waxed where and when he says.  And if I don’t, he’s going to hit me.  That scares me.  It scared me too when he got pissed when he found out I’ve never even had sex.  He’s angry, glaring at me.

Why was that a big deal to him?  He snaps and paced and interrogated me about why I haven’t.  He jerked me around, then demanded to know why I was a virgin.  Well, I don’t know.  But why is it a big deal?

Then he told me we needed to rectify the situation and he ordered me into his room.  I trembled like a leaf, scared.  He got annoyed I wasn’t on the pill so that he had to use condoms.  Is he in the habit of sex without them?  Hello, STDs.

He was so rough.  He wanted to make me hurt.  For the first time I had a real orgasm, a few of them.  That I liked.  But now I’m confused.  We had sex a few times, and each time it was like he was staking more of a claim on me.  “Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here  only me.  You are mine.”  He told me that several times, that I belong to him.  I’m his, all his.  Perhaps he was just talking in the moment.  I can’t ask Kate because of that agreement I signed, and if he could stalk me by my phone, maybe he could turn my phone and hers into one-way walkie-talkies so he could listen in on us.  I don’t want him to hit me, so I have to figure this out alone.

Going to sleep was such a relief.  It meant the confusing, though orgasm-filled, night was over.


Met # of days ago: 12

Days with contact: 5

Number of days dating: 0

Fifty Shades of Ana: Getting drunk sucks

23 Friday May 2014

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All bold text is from quoted directly from the book.

Friday, May 20th (bumped to Friday, May 23rd)

I was so happy to finish my final final ever!  It was such a good feeling to have four years of classes and tests come to an end.  On the one hand, I want to reminisce about the good times I’ve had, but I also want to take a break from thinking about school.  For the first time in my life, I was able to walk out of a class and not think about going back to the next day, or after the weekend or vacation.  I don’t think my new freedom has hit me yet.  It will later.

My new freedom from school was tempered by the rest of today.  Kate and I got home from school, and she handed me a package I thought was  graduation present from my mom or Ray.  But it was a set of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, a first-printing, first edition, worth more than everything I own.  It had a card with a quote from the book.  “Why didn’t you tell me there was danger?  Why didn’t you warn me?  Ladies know what to guard against because they read novels that tell them these tricks.”  Since I just spent part of my final writing essays about this book, it creeped me out.  They only could have come from one person, but how the hell did he know what my final was about?

The quote he picked is scary.  Tess said it to her mother after she was raped.

I didn’t understand, and still don’t.  He keeps warning me off, but he also sent this?  What sick game is he playing?  His pushing and pulling is really upsetting me.  Why has he sent me this?  He said that I wasn’t for him.  I’m going to send them back.

I managed to forget about him and the books for a while.  Kate and I got prettied up and headed to a bar.  José met us, even though he won’t graduate until next year.  I don’t remember much about tonight, to be honest.  I got pretty drunk, and went to the bathroom and decided to drunk-dial Christian and tell that bastard off.  Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me those books and the cryptic message.  If he wants me to stay away, he should leave me alone.

It didn’t go well.  I couldn’t think of the words to tell him to leave me the fuck alone, but I did at least call him strange.  I think that shocked the freak whose used to the world worshipping at his feet like he’s an alter to be adored.  He kept trying to order me to tell him where I was.  His tone is to, so dictatorial, his usual control freak.  I ended up hanging up on him.  The idiot called me back and said he was coming to get me, then hung up.  Too bad I didn’t tell him where I am.  What’s he going to do, barge into every bar in Portland?

All the alcohol didn’t make me feel good.  I had to go outside.  Things went from blah to bad to worse.  José followed me, and decided to try making me kiss him.  I know we were both drunk, but dammit, no means no.  I feel panicky, drunk, and out of control  The feeling is suffocating….I think I’m going to throw up.

I felt like a light shined down and saved me when someone stepped in and pulled José off.  Holy shut!  Christian Grey, he’s here.  How?  I didn’t tell him where I was!!  That was it.  The roller coaster was too much, and I doubled over and started puking.  Christian decided to hold on to me.  I try awkwardly to push him away, but he didn’t let go, and I threw up again.  Why didn’t either of them listen?  José, my friend, tried forcing a kiss, and Christian and I aren’t even friends, so he also had no right to keep a hand on me, even if he was trying to help, for once.  Still, I pushed.  That meant no!!

After I stopped puking my guts up, Joseé ran inside like a coward.  I don’t know why, but I apologized to Christian for getting sick, even though part of it was these guys invading my personal space.  Please, please can I die now?  He had no right to start chastising me and demanding to know if I make a habit of this kind of behavior.  I don’t remember when I’ve felt so ashamed, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.  Why is he blaming me? What the hell has it got to do with him?  I didn’t invite him here.  He sounds like a middle-aged man scolding an errant child.  Part of me wants to say, if I want to get drunk every night like this, then it’s my own decision and nothing to do with him–but I’m not brave enough.  Not now that I’ve thrown up in front of him.

I just don’t understand why he’s here.  I begin to feel faint.  He notices my dizziness and grabs me before I fall and hoists me into his arms, holding me close to his chest like a child.  He told me he was taking me home, and I knew I didn’t have a choice.

At least I found out how he found me.  He tracked my cell phone.  Of course he did.  How is that possible?  It is legal?  Stalker, my subconscious whispers at me.

It shouldn’t have taken me begging for him to let me tell Kate I was leaving.  Unsettling that he didn’t want me to say anything, but I won.  A small victory.  I found Kate, and she was dancing with Christian’s brother and…  I think it was about then that I fainted.

Thank goodness for my mental diary abilities and a bit of deus ex machina–these things magically record what I’m composing in my head from this bed, though it’s a strange bed.  It’s dark.  I don’t think Friday is over for everyone else, but it is for me….


Met # of days ago: 11

Days with contact: 4

Number of days dating: 0

Fifty Shades of Ana: Death to my Self Esteem

18 Sunday May 2014

Posted by Author Alys Marchand in Uncategorized

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All bold text is from quoted directly from the book.

Sunday, May 15th (bumped to Sunday, May 18th)

Well, I couldn’t have felt like a bigger fool today.  It started off okay.  Just a photo shoot to stroke his vanity and make Kate feel like her article is a bigger deal than it is.  She already feels like of cool for scoring a free room for the shoot, but when a billionaire is already staying there, I don’t think the hotel would say no if she asked for a room to have dinner in with him.  Keep high-rolling Grey happy.

The shoot itself went off without a hitch, when he wasn’t trying to seduce me with his eyes from across the room.  He makes me nervous when he does that, and since he’s already stalking me, it’s not like I can say no.  With his money, he could probably make me disappear forever.

Afterward he told me to go on a coffee date with him.  I tried to make an excuse, that I was the one driving everyone home, but he didn’t take the hint, and just ordered his bodyguard, someone named Taylor, to do it.  Well then.  I didn’t really get a say, did I?  After he gave that order, he asked me again.  Could I say no?  Of course not.  So I had to.  I tried telling him Taylor doesn’t have to do that, and he at least did let met talk to Kate.

Kate affirmed my thoughts.  She told me she doesn’t trust Christian.  I don’t either, but I don’t think I have a choice.  She about had a heart attack when I told her we’re going for coffee.  “Ana, there’s something about him.”  Her tone was full of warning.  “He’s gorgeous, I agree, but I think he’s dangerous.”  Can he be so dangerous over just coffee?  I think he’s more dangerous if I firmly say no.  She told be to not be long or she’s send out search and rescue.

I’m not sure why we didn’t stay at the hotel at the Heathman Tea Court.  I know they have coffee.  Maybe he doesn’t know about it.  I should probably be relieved we went somewhere more public, though him looking me over in the elevator made me feel icky.  The only time I started to relax was when I got some tea.  I’m glad the place we went has Stash Tea for their English breakfast.  I still can’t believe Portland has such an amazing tea company.  Beats Teavana hands down.

Almost right away he started in on if José is my boyfriend, and got personal about that.  Then he asked about Paul from the shop.  If he tracked me down at work, surely he can find out if I’m single!

He could tell I was nervous, and I told him I find him intimidating.  He told me I should.  Does he like scaring me?  Yes.  As he said to me, “I’m used to getting my own way, Anastasia.  In all things.”  God.  I realize that.  Then he made me tell him about my family and my mom’s marriage history.  None of his damned business!  When he calls my by my first name, but still expects me to call him Mr. Grey like he’s better than me, none of it is any of his business!  I almost had to wrench his arm to get him to tell me anything about his family, and he was clearly irritated telling me anything.  He went back to what I think of has his stand-by of trying to seduce me with the way he was flicking his eyes on parts of me and running his index finder across his lower lip.

I was relieved to convince him I needed to go home and study.  I thanked him for the tea and called him Mr. Grey, but his I’ve got a whopping big secret smile unsettled me.  So did him asking me if I always wear jeans.  How does that concern him?

On the way back to the car I tripped, and he yanked me so hard it terrified me.  I hardly noticed a guy on a bike who passed close by.  My arm hurt, and he yelled and pulled me to him and started running his thumb over my lips.  Too much.  All at once, too much.  Scared of him, not expecting to be yanked like that, him trying to get too personal.  I found myself wanting him to kiss me and get it over with.  Maybe that would loosen him up a bit and make him lose some of his own composure.

Sex.  I could use that to control him.  I silently begged him to kiss me.  I wanted him to.  It would have given me some control.   But he wouldn’t.  “Anastasia, you should steel clear of me.  I’m not the man for you.”  That’s what he told me instead.  Wait. He tied seducing me then shot me down?  Thank you for that roller coaster, Asshole!  The adrenaline of going up and down so fast had me still wanting to stay close and get that kiss, get some control, but he pushed me away.  The rejection hurt.  He clearly wanted me, then he didn’t.  Did I do something wrong so fast?  I don’t know, but it hurt, and still stings.  Maybe I was stupid and misread the situation between us.  I thanked him for saving me to stroke his pride again, and it worked with him saying he shuddered to think what could have happened.  A skinned knee?  Or the guy running into me, we both get a couple bruises, and I forgot about it by lunch?

I think he realized he hurt me.  He walled my named and looked torn and frustrated.  I was sarcastic when I told him good bye.  Good thing he didn’t see me when I got to the packing garage.  I sank by the can and cried my eyes out.  He dragged me around and I wasn’t ready for it.  Worse, I think it was on purpose.  Him leading me on and rejecting me so fast name make me feel stupid for having homes and dreams and expectations.  I finally made myself stop.  The freak isn’t worth it.

At home, Kate was concerned.  She could tell I was upset.  She tried to make me feel better about myself, but but didn’t work.  She showed me her finished article on her computer, and the picture of him made him look like we’re in different worlds.  He’s the rich guy who’s hotter than me, and I know I’m not good enough if he rejected me so quick after leading me on.  Probably no one will want me if I got cut down so fast, but at least realizing it’s only because he’s out of my league made me feel a little better.

At least studying went well.  That was the highlight of my day.


Met # of days ago: 6

Days with contact: 3

Number of days dating: 0

Next post: Friday

Fifty Shades of Ana: Oh my god, he stalked me!

17 Saturday May 2014

Posted by Author Alys Marchand in Uncategorized

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All bold text is from quoted directly from the book.

Saturday, May 14th (bumped to Saturday, May 17th)

Oh my god, what the fuck!  I was at work today cross-referencing inventory or something, and guess who I saw.  Christian Motherfucking Grey!  He said he was in the area to stock up on a few things, but couldn’t he get this stuff in Seattle?  He wanted cable ties and tape and rope, and what is he, a stalkerish serial killer?  I know he could get this shit up in Seattle!  He kept asking questions about my life, and asked what else I suggested he get.  Was I supposed to say, a body bag?  I told him coveralls to keep his clothes clean, even though it’s clear he doesn’t do any laboring.  That freak told me sure, and that he could always take them off.  More inappropriate sex talk.  I think some of what my dad said about how to handle stressful situations from his Army days sunk into my head more than I thought because I started refocusing on how physically attracting Christian is.  It’s like you laugh so you don’t cry.  I thought about his looks so I wouldn’t vomit from how scared I was that he came to Portland from Seattle to get stuff he could buy there, stuff used to kill people, and I don’t think it was a coincidence that he came into Clayton’s today.  He found out where I work and stalked me here, I know he did!  I turned down his attempt at a job offer, offended him, and now he’s going to kill me.  Oh my god I’m so scared.

I managed to calm myself down, and it helped when he asked about the article.  Okay, something we can relate on.  Good.  Nice, safe, relatable.  I was relieved He’s finally asked me a normal question, away from all the innuendo and double talk…  I could kick myself though for telling him Kate wishes she had original pictures.  He pretty much invited me to have pictures taken, and have me his card.  Well, Kate’s going to be happy, and that’s a relief.  I’m a bit relieved too since he probably won’t hurt me if she’s around.  He wouldn’t want to destroy his rep.

I was so, so glad when my friend Paul got there so I wasn’t alone with Christian.  I got a big hug from Paul, and a scary look from Christian.  It was cold enough that Paul picked up on it and kept me an arm’s length away.  He ended up knowing who Christian is and fan-boy’d all over him, but Christian kept that frightening look.  He got pissy, and I think I offended him.  He paid and left and I breathed freely finally.

He can’t really be a killer or anyone bad.  It had to just have been a coincidence that he came here.  Maybe he meant he was in town, and he just has an art project in his hotel room.  He’s hot, and I wouldn’t have to know what I was doing.  I started feeling bad for suspecting him of wrong-doing.  Maybe I could like him a little.  I’m feeling a strange tingling, so maybe my nerves are just the first step of falling for someone, and maybe I’m just making up all the bad stuff in my head.  He’s rich and successful, so people have to like him.  Yes, I can to.

When I got a few minutes alone, I called Kate.  Kate was excited about me getting his personal number on that business card, not thrilled Christian will only be here tomorrow, I think, when her regular photographer is gone.  I suggested José to do the photos, and she agreed, and then told me I have a relationship with Christian.  No I don’t!

Even after I got him, Kate wouldn’t let up, and she made me call him.  It was a quick call and we set up a time and place for tomorrow, and Kate jumped back onto the relationship stuff.  Christian and I don’t have one!  But she teased me.  Maybe I Blushed during the call, I don’t know.  I feel like I’m being steam-rolled in a lot of ways right now.  Christian scaring me, which has to be in my head.  Kate pushing met toward him, even after I told her he is intimidating.  Paul asked me out again (oh, I forgot about that, but after Christian left the store, he did).  I just want things to go back to how they were before that interview.  I didn’t didn’t know what was wrong that I didn’t get weird flutters for anyone, but at least there wasn’t a possible killer interested in me.


Met # of days ago: 5

Days with contact: 2

Number of days dating: 0

Fifty Shades of Ana: Why can’t I fall for anyone?

16 Friday May 2014

Posted by Author Alys Marchand in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Friday, May 13th (bumped to Friday, May 16th)

Tonight my friend José had some great news!  He’s going to have a photography exhibit!  He’s worked so hard on trying to forge his way in the photography world, so I’m really proud of him!  And I got a personal invitation!  Well, Kate did too, but I know he’d like to be more than friends with me.  I hope he gets over that soon.  I don’t want our friendship damaged over this.  I’m not interested.

God, sometimes I wonder if I’m broken.  I’ve never had an interest in anyone.  I know some people might say there’s nothing wrong with not having an interest in anyone and that asexuality is a real thing and is just a variation of human sexuality, but I don’t know.  I always did want to find my Prince Charming and be swept off my feet.  Does this still count as being asexual?  Since I like guys and just haven’t found any who does it for me, does that make me straight still?  Sometimes I’m confused, and don’t know who to talk to about it, or if I’m just some freak who doesn’t belong anywhere.

For a split second tonight, Christian Grey crossed my mind when I was thinking about some of this.  Maybe I’ll just settle for someone like him, and since people like him are control freaks, I wouldn’t even have to deal with any of the figuring-it-out.  But that’s not Prince Charming.  That’s settling.  I’ve been feeling queasy since he’s been in my dreams, or nightmares.  On the one hand, I feel some relief in those dreams not having to figure anything out, but there’s also no respect for me in my own dreams, and he belittles me in them and doesn’t listen to what I say.  He falls far short from my lifelong dream of a sweetheart swooping in and making me feel loved and cherished and respected.

Maybe my standards are too high, and I should lower them.  Instead of loved, I guess someone who at least wants to own me and keep me around.  Cherished and respected?  Optional?  No, how about…  I don’t know.  I just don’t want to be alone forever, and I’m 21 and haven’t ever dated or been kissed, and since the only common link in all my dating problems is me, I’m the one who needs to change.  My standards can go to hell.

When I watched José open the wine he brought to celebrate his gallery show, I admired his ass a bit, and his strong shoulders.  He’s loved me since we met and found out our dads were army buddies, and he’s cherished and respected me.  But that just hasn’t made me want him.  When he got the cork out of the bottle, he looked at me and smiled, and I smiled back, I think, but I really wanted to cry.


Met # of days ago: 4

Days with contact: 1

Number of days dating: 0

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Fall Into The Story

The official blog for Nora Roberts and J.D. Robb readers

Tinder...oh Tinder....

The aggravations of the Tinder pool

Strong Women in Fiction

Oregon Regency Society

Rising from the Abyss

Mind Exploration

#50ShadesIsAbuse BlogRing

Exposing the Domestic Violence In the Books

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About growing up in the foster care system

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new url, same Kody

Magical things. Beautiful things.

Michelle L. Johnson's positive life ponderings

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Author, reader, dreamer

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Author, reader, dreamer

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On Writing, Ideas, and Making a Difference

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Author, reader, dreamer

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