Please don’t go. What if she…
I haven’t told you how we met. David’s costume party? She remembers. It’s really a funny story. I had gotten there late because I couldn’t figure out what to wear. I didn’t want to show up as a pirate or something like the other thirty six pirates or somethings in the room, and I didn’t have the time to go out and buy anything. I didn’t even plan on going to that stupid party, but you know David. He’s persistent. And he said that she’d be there.
So I walked through the front door, and there she was, all the way at the edge of the room, and still the center of attention. Far off in this sea of drunken cat-girls and haze was this—this Eskimo in a puffy dull blue snow coat and pants. She looked miserable. I remember she was haunting the snack table and playing with the cat, face lined with sweat, you know because of the…
It’s funny. I didn’t see that kind of place as her kind of place, but I don’t know. Maybe you were talked into coming too.
Everyone was staring as I waded through to get to her. I mean, I didn’t care, I was used to it—but then you spotted me, and I swear, it was like a thousand scientists dissecting me with their eyes. When I finally got to the table, my knees started to shake. I didn’t know what to say. Eventually, I told her that I liked her costume. Said it reminded me of a marshmallow.
I don’t—I don’t think you liked that. I remember you asking me immediately after what my costume was, and there I shook in all my glory, wearing this bright pink Hawaiian shirt covered in lobsters and seagulls, and I said, “What costume? This is my lucky shirt.” Then you smirked in that way you do, and said—I’ll never forget this—she said, “Well, I like it. It reminds me of one hundred percent effective birth control.”
Truth is, though, I honestly found this thing not five minutes before I ran out the door. I don’t even remember where I got it. It wasn’t my lucky anything until that night. You hear me? Not until that night. And, hey, guess what I’m wearing right now? That’s right. So you have to wake up, alright? I’m wearing my lucky shirt, and it has never failed me, so you’re going to wake up, and you’re going to be okay, and we’re going to go home, and…
Please don’t go.
One note = one vote. Like or reblog to vote for your state! Go Hawaii! http://thefaultinourstarsmovie.com/demandourstars
"Wouldn’t it be funny if everyone outside of the US voted for Hawaii, so they can have a nice little vacation in their tour?"
Yeah. I’d like that. Gimme them Hawaii tour vlogs, John.
In the beginning of this, I had a slight issue with the act of exposing people publicly with things they did years ago, but you know what? Fuck it. If you use your fame to get laid, or get laid in order to get fame, you better accept the consequences, whenever they catch up with you. You made your bed, now sleep in it, as the saying goes.
I apologize for the language above, but it is left whole to show a rather ugly point.
So: My ask box is closed now.
And I’m doing something very, very, very rarely do, and my friends have been begging me to do about this whole thing since day one: meet it head on.
The above ask was sent in by my stalker. This is why my ask box remains closed.
Maybe it is time to show what stalking really is and does.
Imagine getting messages, the type of which make the above seem mild and sweet (add in sexual threats, death threats, and vows to be up to this forever), any time you have any ability for anyone to contact you.
Every day. At times multiple times a day, sometimes in a stream of messages that clog your inbox.
And when you never once address that, they start contacting your friends, your sister, your parents. Your brother in law. Your infant nephew/godson.
Threatens them consistently. Sends them packages. Sends them postcards. Look sup their private info and parade it in front of them.
For 5.5 years.
Things that thus far haven’t helped: An arrest. An international warrant. International attention. Stays in mental health facilities. Nothing deters this behavior.
Stalking is one of the crimes that takes the victim out of the equation, because of how likely it is that being in it exacerbates the situation. And if we do nothing and let the world exist like this, we are enabling a kind of malice that could threaten the very positive and at times powerful ways we exchange ideas and connect to each other.
The Internet is the wild west, and at some point the cavalry’s gotta come in, here.
The FBI has been amazing but are limited by a foreign nation’s wish to completely ignore a situation that has been proven many times over to exist.
I can only be so defiant in private while balancing the need for my and my family’s safety.
You may think, “I’ve seen her at LeakyCons, she’s not affected by this at all!” Never make an assumption by the strength someone is able to project that they are unaffected. And never assume that someone who doesn’t give her life over to something negative completely - disappear from the internet, etc - doesn’t just as much peace and justice as those whose lives lose major functions because of this activity. There is sometimes a paternalistic rise in compassion that rises to meet the level to which a person has been affected. If we start judging that way, we forget that no matter the victim and no matter the effect, the crime is the same and it must be stopped.
So there you go. A glimpse into my life.
If you wish to stand against stalking, please reblog; and as a bonus, please add your own thoughts about the necessity that a country’s law enforcement agency (in this case New Zealand’s) starts to take this seriously.
This may be the most important thing I ever reblog, and I really hope you take the time to read it.
I’ve known Melissa throughout much of this and I’ve seen the hurt and damage it has caused. I’ve seen her get not one, but HUNDREDS of highly graphic and possibly viable rape and death threats from this stalker. The notes come into every part of Melissa’s life, pretty much every day. They are both electronic and physical. They go to her family. They threaten everything about her life.
The note you see above is NOTHING compared to some that have come in.
I also get notes from this stalker. As I post this, I set myself up to get more. I send them to the FBI, as I have been instructed. The case file grows.
This has gone on for five and a half years.
It’s hard to keep silent while someone goes through this.
I hope that the stalker actually gets the medical treatment she so desperately needs. She is a danger to herself as much as anything else. I have gotten at least one letter from her that was a detailed suicide threat. She has also cut her own wrists and posted the picture online. She very, very much needs help.
I hope Melissa gets justice. She needs her life back.
And I hope this helps pave a way for more victims of online stalking to get the help and protection they need.
Pssh, please. If it were Cry, it would’ve looked something like this.
(Also, some people need to learn how to read a video description.)
(And some people need to learn how to draw. That would be me. This took way too long for something so silly. Also, this is a prime example of bracket misuse, friends.)
Logged in to tumblr for the first time in a long time just to reblog this. As a previous sexology student and a big fan of breaking the below mentioned taboo, this makes me very excited.
Ok, so…sex. It’s the reason why you exist, and also why our species exists. So I think it’s safe to say that, on the whole, sex is a good thing.
And yet, people don’t /really/ talk about it. Publicly anyway.
The perpetual taboo…it’s bad. It leads to confusion and crappy information and bad decisions and negative experiences. It turns one of biology’s greatest creations into something to be ashamed of.
I dislike this.
Now that the internet has enabled us to say whatever we want however we want to say to whomever we want to say it to it is extremely weird that our response has been to simply perpetuate the taboo.
Sure, there are people who talk about sex on YouTube, but they do it in the same “giggle giggle, that’s naughty” or shock factor ways that we always have. Somehow, in all the glory of YouTube (as far as I can tell, and please correct me if I’m wrong) there has been exactly one person enabling a responsible, educational dialogue about sex and sexuality. (Check out Sex+ here.)
Very soon, my little studio in Missoula will be launching a new show with the a similar focus. Obviously, it’s going to be much different than Sex+ (which, if you’re interested in this stuff, you should subscribe to now.) But the goals will be similar…to lift the veil and talk honestly about sex and sex-related stuff.
I’m 100% sure that I’ll catch flak for this. There are people out there who think that the mere mention of the existence of sex is enough to raise teenage pregnancy rates. The Vlogbrothers audience is young and, yes, some are too young to be watching this show (I’ll leave that decision up to you and your parents.) But not only is providing open access to reality and information the right thing to do, it’s also proven to be the best way to put people in control of their bodies and their lives.
The fact that there isn’t more content on YouTube discussing this stuff is depressing. It shows how deep the taboo goes…even when given a platform we can be completely free with, Laci is the only one (so far) brave enough to take it on in a substantial way.
I’m excited and terrified to take this step. I hope I don’t regret it, and I hope that it helps people…in fact, I know it’s going to help people, otherwise there’s no friggin way I’d do it. Here’s a link…there’s nothing on it yet…there will be soon.
Also, don’t put thumbtacks through condoms. Um…duh.
Me in high school, and even today. I think I’m slowly getting better, though. (To be fair, I didn’t stay home to study in high school, I just convinced myself I was sick. I’ve stopped with that, though - if I skip a lecture, it’s to catch up with things I should have been doing a long time ago.)
When I was growing up, this was my anthem. Well, it was the spirit of my anthem and it sometimes came out in different words such as, “Moooooooom, do I have to?” or “I’m sick I need to stay hoooome”
I was actually the kid who missed the most days of school in 6th AND 7th grade. I always had a sick story and the nurse called me “pitiful pearl” - whatever THAT meant, amirite?!
I also had straight A’s because I mostly skipped school to have more time to work on projects or study for tests… things I had put off until the last minute and the only option was to stay home and finish everything.
So, this way of being became a bit troublesome when I started out as a coach. Suddenly, unlike being a video editor, I had all of these meetings scheduled every day. And calling in sick was no longer an option.
Well, I made it an option.
Lifescouts: Hot-Air Balloon Badge
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Got this experience as a birthday gift, a couple of years ago. In line with old tradition, I became countess of the place where we landed. Can’t remember the name of the place, though - I am a terrible countess.
Another honored tradition: if I happen to come across a balloon-landing in the future, I have to help with the folding of the balloon. Which I won’t mind, it’s great fun.
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! I have created a Facebook-event right here: http://m.facebook.com/?_rdr#!/events/403283843098830 Where you can join so that John will be able to come to Sweden! And if you’ve already bought it for yourself, buy it for a friend, a sibling, a family member, your dog, your plant, ANYTHING WITH A PULSE WILL DO. Guys, LET’S MAKE JOHN COME TO SWEDEN. Reblog, share, do anything to spread the word, buy the book and DFTBA.
We Swedish Nerdfighters are desperate for some John Green action.