Everyone still thinks I’m crazy because I feel horrible and shivery because the school isn’t protecting me from Jordan (no class seating charts as promised a month ago before break, he’s acting like a stawker). And I’m still not really supposed to talk about it. And so very few of my friends know why I’m acting wierd and prude-ish. I’m still  getting creapy dudes in public (like a forty year old asian dude at Nordstrom Rack who told me he “liked the way I moved” and if I stuck around “He’d join me,” complete with wierd eyebrow movement. Shudder. And i hadn’t showered that day or washed my hair for three. Why?). And I have to deal with fending off a dude with a crush on me at school, who is a sweet guy, but won’t take a clue (not subltle ones either) that I do not like him.

Aarg. That’s got to be the closest thing to a word for how I feel right now. Do I know stuff won’t always feel this bad and that I will move on? Sure, but that doesn’t fix the problems of the moment. I feel so empty and violated right now. Not angry, not upset, just empty sad and confused, confounded, discomfited. Jim, my school’s well meaning but inexperienced councilor asked me not to talk to my friends about what is happening because it will make things harder on Jordan. I agreed, but now I just need to tell them, for them to know whats up with me and to realize that Jordan really is inappropriate and that they need to be more aggressive about telling him off. Also, a few of my friends think I’m having a breakdown because Jim publicly pulled me aside, and I’ve had a rough year already (family stuff: grandparents becoming senile, a schizophrenic uncle, and that’s not even mentioning helping my friends cope with their problems. Not that I mind being the friend that is always there and supportive, I enjoy it, but it takes an emotional toll to be there for so many people, especially when two or more people in the same dispute come to me to complain about it). Anyway, they were really sweet and waited for me to come out of his office, but they didn’t totally beleive me when I promised them I was fine. Plus, I want to let Simon know whats up because I will feel a ton better if I have a dude who will stand up to Jordan for me if I need it (Jordan seems to listen to guys better, strangely). I want Larissa and Alex to know because we’ve talked about Jordan between ourselves sometimes, and he is inappropriate with them too. I want Elisabeth to know because she is my closest confidant, and I can tell her anything without fearing it will get out and know she’ll give me honest advice. And I want to tell Kate (who is a close friend but not one I see that often), because she was there with Elisabeth when I came out of Jim’s office and  more importantly because Jordan also has a history of being disrespectful of her personal space.

And none of these kids will spread this stuff around. They all trustworthy, and I need them there as my support system.

Oh, and my grade dean pulled me aside publicly after English on Friday, so thank goodness I’m a good student or else everyone would think I’m in trouble. I know its stupid and immature to worry about what everyone thinks, but I want my friends to know the truth. I want to be allowed to be honest with them. And I will be, even if he doesn’t give me permission. Well, when I get my courage up at any rate. I just feel so empty and vulnerable and depleted that I need to collect myself. And to stop tearing up.

First, I have to say I know most guys, like 99%, aren’t pervs, freaks, or pedophiles. I’ve had, and have, plenty of guy friends who are kind, sweet, appropriate and caring individuals.But then there are the exceptions.

Take the pedophile I met when I was 9. Yeah, I know, just my luck. First he offered to paint a picture of my soul, then he told me his theory that if he use his tongue to pick thinks up that tongues would eventually evolve into hands, and then he tried to get me alone with him. And yes, I get that the situation is somewhat humorous. Fortunately, my dad got me out of there as soon as I told him what was going on.I would go into more detail about the experience, but thinking about it still makes me cringe.

Then there was this dude at a concert I went to. The concert was more like a mosh pit, not my scene, but a few friends were going and the band playing was an indie band I like, so I went. Then a creeper (long greasy hair, smelled predatory though not high). He came up behind me and ran his fingers through my hair, which I thought might have been an accident, so I pulled my hair over one shoulder. Then he put his hands on my waist. I pushed my way into the center of my group of friends, and tried to tell them what happened, but the music was to loud for them to hear me. I figured that since it was so loud that even if I screamed no one would hear me. So I stuck with my friends, figuring that would be safer than trying to go. I saw him 4 or 5 more times throughout the concert, often only a body or two away from me, though I thought is might just be the tides of the mosh pit and my nerves combined. But then I saw him looking at me with that horrible hunter’s glare, and so I got one of my friends to help me get out of the room and called my mom. Everything was okay in the physical sense. But the experience brought up the pedophile stuff again, and made me uncomfortable with enveloping hugs from Jordan (with he couldn’t respect so I went to the councilor and we all know whats coming of that). And I needed a forum to deal with the stuff this stuff, hence my blog. So here I am today.

A guy with a huge mohawk (6in at least) checked me out. Not that kind of casual glance that is subtle and kind of flattering, but the kind of long stare that makes me feel like meat or yogurt or an MP3 player on the sale rack. Hell, this dude stared for so long even my dad commented “whoa, that dude is checking you out.”

So. My school is having a serious conversation with Jordan. Because of sexual harassment issues. He’s grabbed my boob before, among other things. I’ve tried to deal with it on a person-to-person basis (because he has enough shit going on in his life), and it had seemed to work, but Jordan got inappropriate again, so I went to the school therapist. He said that some other stuff he did was harassment too. I HATE BEING PRETTY. I HATE THE CRAP IT GETS ME. Okay, I like being attractive, but I hate that that it gives guys the idea that they can disrepect me. That my face and body are an invitation to touch. To treat me like an object rather than the person I am.

Here’s the dudes.

Simon: my best guy friend. He seems too good to be true: classically handsome, with a great sense of style (Hugo boss and tight shirts, but it really works on him). He is also an  actor and a great writer. Oh, and did I mention he ballroom dances? Me is also senstive, observant, emotionally inteligent and caring (I get a hug every morning). I know, prince charming. If you couldn’t already tell, I have a huge crush on him. Huge. But one small detail. Tiny. Miniscule. I’m pretty darn positive he’s gay. He walks and talks with the right mannarisms and he’s never dated. And he has an obvious crush on a dude, so he’s at least bi. Sigh, thats life.

Austin: A kooky actor with an outlandish sense of humor. He is always there for me and is a sweet guy with a great sense of fun. Problem: he’s got a crush on me. A big one. Big enough to make an elephant seem petite.

Scott: An engineering whiz (he got a full scholarship of off his abilities), and all around nice guy. He even helps out his mom who has MS. Oh, and he also plays tennis.  He also has a crush on me, but since I made it clear I’m not interested, he’s been more subtle.

Opher: An Israeli kid who gets good grades despite being a slacker. Oh, and every other sentence he utters involves a sex joke.

Jace: A freshman who is pretty cool. A bit of a slacker, but nice.

Darrin: A freshman who doesn’t even pretend to look at my face—he just stares at my boobs. Yah, he has a huge awkward obsession. Joy.

Robert: kinda like Darrin but taller, and with better social skills.

Jordan: Okay. This one’s complicated. He’s a jerk these days but he was nice last year. He is a theater teck.  I’ve tried to be nice to him since he has a lot of stuff going on in his life. But it’s gotten to be too much: he is harassing me and the school is in the process of stepping in. Basically, he shows no respect for my boundaries or opinion. Even less than for other people’s. BTW, he’s transgender (he started out life as a girl and started living as a boy last year). But for all intents and purposes except bathrooms and personal space, he’s a dude. So yah.

Wow, that was a long first post. anyway, here are a list of names you will be hearing a lot. For starters, the platonic friends:

Elisabeth: one of my best friends. She is sweet, high achieving, refreshingly sarcastic, frank. and caring. She is also incredibly intuitive—she can always just tell when I’m in a bad mood.

Larisa: another one of my besties. She’s as artistic and creative as they come—she paints, draws and even writes beautifully. She is also great at science and history. She is kind, and knows how to give a complement subtly but meaningfully. She doesn’t gossip, and she calls things as she sees them.

Rachel: I actually met this group of friends because one of the teachers dubbed me “Mini-Rachel’. We both have curly hair, glasses, a tendency to fret and a love of learning. Heck, she even sews and knits. Basically, she’s a two year older version of me with more acne and a slightly different sense of humor.

Caitlin: An actress for whom the word sarcastic would be a dire understatement. She totally has her heart in the right place though, and shows it by heaping large amounts of chocolate and help on all of her friends. She also spends hours a week volunteering at the zoo with polar bears. Yah, she’s cool.

Simira: A goof ball girl in the best possible sense. Her first language was Hindi, and we all love her because she is so sweet. I’ve never seen her in a bad mood. Ever. She always makes people happier, even when she doesn’t notice their sad in the first place.

Alex: She’s a nice girl who loves her punk clothes. She’s nice and fun company. I’ve been there for her through some tough times. That pretty much says it all.

Kimi: a Chinese dorm student whose goofy and sweet personality shines through her less-than-perfect English.

Haleigh: A tough girl in the truest sense. She has three older brothers, and always talks plainly and gives her honest opinions. She can, and does, where stiletto boots or espadrilles for a full day. She is an actress, and a really good one. She is self assured and rightfully so.

So yeah, those are the friends I tend to hang out with the most.

Hi, I’m a sophomore prep school student in the pacific northwest. I don’t get straight A’s, but my GPA is above 3.5. I’m smart: my IQ is about 135. I dance, quite well, and have preformed in Disneyland. I captained a math team that placed in state and have had a poem published. I crochet and knit in my “spare” time ;) I’m no where near perfect (anxiety/perfection issues, I’ve never been on a date, I’ve got dandruff…) and I know it. I’m too nerdy to be popular in the powerful sense. But I’ve got more people who I care about and who care about me than I could have dreamed of: English nerds, engineering geeks and art buffs—many of them two of the three. They rock. My life is pretty good too, and I feel really guilty for not suffering more during this financial crisis. In fact, I feel really guilty about complaining at all right now. But here the issue is before I delete this post; apparently I’m pretty.

I don’t think I’m particularly attractive, at least in the modern sense. Now in Victorian England, I would have been a knock-out (not that I’d want to live in a corset with disease all around). I’m short, 5’1”. And I’m curvaceous ( size D boobs and the right waist-hip ratio—yes, I looked it up, further proof of my geekiness). I have skin so pale that even clinique makeup doesn’t match except during July and August, blue-gray eyes  brown softly curling hair and a face that one of my artist friends says looks like a classic madonna (as in Mary as portrayed in medieval Europe). Once again, the kind of beauty that was loved 200 or more years ago, but hardly in vogue today.

Maybe I don’t think I’m attractive because I’m new to it. I’ve lost three jean sizes in the last eight months and my acne has finally subsided for the most part (about time, I’m six-friggin-teen). So even I think I look a lot better these days. I don’t think I’m ugly, but I’m not your stunner. Or I don’t think so.

But my guy friends do. And random creepy dudes at concerts. And awkward freshmen who don’t know how talk to a girls’ face and not her breasts. Joy. Hell, I’ve even been mistaken for being a trophy wife—to my DAD. (shudder). Yeah, apparently I look like I’m a few year older than 16—when I say I’m a sophomore people ask what college and I’ve been mistaken for a med student too.