I get asked near daily when I will write again by various people. I do appreciate it, and I suppose it is time to do a little experiment of writing more often. Even for the mere escapism of remembering how much I used to write when I was younger. Writing 12 was my favourite course and we had to write every single day, just spill the thoughts onto the paper with no purpose. Which, is how I write these blogs. I have no idea what is going to come out, it is as free flowing as me talking one to one in front of you. Hence, there are likely run on sentences and other things to nit pick, if you choose. I used to write poetry, I love poetry. I love poetry so much. All of mine are tragic romances, depressing, suicidal, ridiculously emotional. I began poetry as a child and then stopped as a teenager. I stopped a lot of things as a teenager. Entering into the public school system for the first time at thirteen, grade nine. My first introduction to the world outside of homeschooling. I had many assumptions how a girl should behave, and so I stopped. I stopped digital art. I stopped web designing. I only wrote stories and poetry for English studies. I thought girls weren’t allowed to be into computers. I remember that very vividly. Girls weren’t allowed to be computer scientists, web designers, graphic designers.

There wasn’t a defining moment I can remember where I gathered these rules and laws of being a girl. I consumed so much television growing up, it makes sense to me I learned what I was allowed to do from tv. I was really young for my generation to be into computers, introduced to the internet 1998 when I was eight years old. I saw my first computer when I was four, there was a chess game on it. I had the big ass computers that are embarrassing to think about compared to the art pieces crafted now. I had the windows 95, Netscape, dial-up, and domains were very expensive. You would apply to someone’s site with a bio as to why they should host you.

I had a blog when I was nine.

What a surprise.

What did I write about? My teddy bear hamster, Natasha. Some random people online. Oh god, I was in many chat rooms back then. Talking to who knows who how old or what they were about. I played shockwave, Neopets, and I remember when the singer Aaliyah died people talked about in the Neopets forum. I asked, what’s an Aaliyah? I got laughed at, flamed, all the fun things. I felt humiliated and never wrote on that forum again. I was eleven.

I’ve been listening to this podcast one of my best friend’s recommended, called, Something Was Wrong, I do think come at it with caution if you have had trauma in your life because I definitely have felt and overwhelming identification with a few of the speakers the last few days listening to episodes. Overall, it is a very interesting pod cast. One episode I think I am going to re-listen to was going over cat fishing. I too, got cat fished once, and only once. When I was quite young, I had an online friend named Kyle for years. I loved him. It was platonic, but I loved him fiercely. Then I got introduced to his cousin, a girl, I can’t remember her name actually. I began talking to both of them. Then, one day, Kyle disappeared. He was my only friend really. Being homeschooled, I particularly had no friends. I had my pet rabbit, I had my Barbie’s. Before high school I was just alone. Some days, on the computer 10-15 hours a day. But, always alone. Learning how to be a human through the television rather than other kids in the flesh. TV then computer, tv, computer, tv, computer. I was always good at getting schoolwork done quickly and with excellence to give myself more time to do my hobbies. I was like that in high school too and should have graduated at 16, I instead delayed and stayed in a peer counselling course to instead graduate at 17. I skipped classes all the time, school was boring. School was a ladder that I was supposed to climb despite wanting to run away from home since 13.

Back to Kyle, I believe I was eight or nine and knew Kyle until around twelve or thirteen. I also had a couple friends from Nova Scotia that did vector art as I did online, played Neopets, and did web designing too. I found those two girls again many years later and added on Facebook, those girls are real. Kyle was never real.

I don’t have the old e-mail account, and I don’t think I could stomach reading old messages anyways for how much I trusted Kyle and felt intimately close to “him”. I loved him deeply. We spoke daily, we spoke in length. The kind of closeness you are gasping for the next message to come through. A tedious wait. Longer than text messages, but less often. One day, he disappeared, to the army apparently. As you can imagine, yes, Kyle was supposed to be older. I would question his cousin, have you heard from Kyle? I am worried about him. He used to talk about alcohol. I am worried. He is in the army. I am worried. He abruptly cut me off. I am worried. I used to write to her here and there, pen pal style and e-mails. I loved having pen pals actually, I love to write, I love pen on paper, I love long hand. I use any excuse I can to write long hand, little notes, my two day planners. I can’t remember for how long, but one day the cousin revealed, a couple years later, when I found her on Facebook.

Kyle never existed.
Kyle was me.
I’m sorry.

Here, for many years I had assumed he had died. The way she said she hadn’t heard from him. I grieved him as if he had died. Grief I never should have had or experienced without my consent to know this was a made up character.

I blocked her, I don’t remember if I questioned her why she made him up. Cat fishing is a whole other interesting psychological mind fuck. It is like role play gone wild. Rogue role play. Un-ethical role play. It has since been around 16 years since that last interaction. The feelings are still visceral, perhaps what I can say is that these sort of experiences give way to me being able to morph into characters I need to be for whatever method acting asked of me. It gives me a sympathy for those that have gone through similar. And, I suppose, quite helpful for the fuckers online who try to scam me for my work. Been there, a long, long time ago. Try again.

And no, my parents never once knew about Kyle, or that Kyle never existed.

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I went to the police station to give a recorded statement, it is interesting to see first hand how that process unfolds. I learned my little thief is a 20 year old Business student. She turned herself in to the police statement after finding out she is getting evicted. She admitted guilt, she has a clean record, she returned my package to the police, and she typed me out an “apology” letter. A letter that detailed, the entire time, about herself, how it would ruin her life to get in trouble. How she is in business school, how she stole my lingerie package because she envied my shopping habits and will never be able to afford Victoria’s Secret. How she will never, ever, ever do something like this again. Besides the blatant, screaming entitlement throughout her letter, it struck me how she didn’t even take the time to use spell check. Writing guilty, gilty, and various other words or grammar in sloppy form. To me, her sincerity is non existent, wrapped in a selfish bubble of oh shit, I actually got caught and now there may be long term damage to my pretty little life. I have been envious of others before, never did I take something from them. It isn’t the situation, but who you are in the deeper levels. I’ve been stolen from many times from girls, working girls, who were mad or jealous or who knows from work in previous years. I’ve been robbed in a home as well. Even while on welfare, with barely anything, as a teenager, girls in my high school were envious and attacked me. Envious of what. There isn’t anything I have that isn’t achievable for another. There isn’t anything I do or say that isn’t achievable to learn, grow, become.

To be stolen from a neighbour, someone who may pass you in the hallway who knows how many times, feels dehumanizing. It isn’t personal, no, but the idea is very personal. Her constructed idea of who I am and what she deserves, wants, feels entitled to take a package of nice things is illegal. I really doubt she assumes I am a single mom who lives on my own with my baby. I really doubt she assumes that I haven’t had really nice lingerie in 2.5 years. I really doubt, this little bitch understands hardship, and instead feels her plight of experiences are more important than my petty lingerie. Reading her letter did not achieve a goal of sympathy, rather it made me angrier how obvious she felt in no wrong, but now was scared and doing sloppy damage control for her benefit because reality is real. There are consequences and responsibilities. There are no excuses. She will find a place, she can couch surf, I have couch surfed many times, with a cat and a dog. I have no idea if she has pets, but she will be fine. She won’t have a reference, she can ask a friend to be her landlord reference. I’m sure she will lose her damage deposit. She can figure it out. I hope the value of my lingerie versus all the losses she has incurred on herself was worth it.

No matter how low of a situation I have been in, food bank, cashing bottles for money, I never once stole from someone.  To me, someone like her, with her clean record, begging letter going on and on about her life, herself, her, her, her, her, and not a single ounce of understanding of my point of view, is the real crime. A crime against herself, that only she can fix for herself by herself. I was told apparently she passed the package, looked at it, thought, then came back again, looked at it. Then took it. I wonder what her days are like, whether she lives alone too. I wonder what she spends her days doing in-between school. Scrolling Instagram? It sits deep with me for her to say she will never be able to afford Victoria’s Secret. It is so, short sighted. And, such a big lie. Does she truly believe that? Does she truly believe that? Especially being in business school. Yes, I see many people with degrees working in jobs unrelated to their degree. Except, the people I have known or seen in business school, end up having good jobs. All of them, actually. Even if she didn’t,  Victoria’s Secret is not an out of this world priced brand. You can save your GST return to buy a set, easily. You can save Christmas money, you can cash bottles in, you can do a long list of things and wait, then buy it. If that truly is what you wanted. I remember when I was 12 I spent months saving for a $11 Martha Stewart magazine and a special $25 coin from the post office. I loved to collect coins, and I loved, well still do love, Martha Stewart. I still have that magazine and I still have that coin.

I also wonder, why she is living in a building like mine, as a student. When I was a student my rent was half as much as I pay here now, most people in my building I would say are middle class or above. Students I have known tend to live with roommates of like 4-6 people. Even living alone as a student when I went to school was kind of whoa. I sacrificed a lot to live alone at the time, I shopped maybe once a year for a single Lulu Lemon sports bra back then. I scoured thrift stores, I still do. To me, my thief is weak. She turned herself in after seeing the beginning of consequences of her selfish actions, and I do feel she isn’t telling the whole story. I told the corporal her letter meant nothing to me, and that I would like to continue forward in consequences for her, with something volunteer or community service. I do not believe in apologies. I believe in accountability.

So, me and my little thief will meet. I am not sure how soon or when yet. Within restorative justice, she can get a support person and I too. Then we decide the outcome of what is satisfactory for her to proceed with. The corporal said my little thief was very thankful and accepted the offer of restorative justice. Bitch, this isn’t empathy or sympathy. This is in no part, feelings for her as she has had zero and shown so, towards me, one that she shares a community with. This, is more what I feel makes the most sense in what would help, in my opinion, a grossly entitled little cunt to do less damage upon others in the future. Especially, if she is in business. I’m looking at places to suggest for her to volunteer, and frankly I think this girl needs a Psychologist as well. Her soul needs work. A lot of ongoing work. She is weak, and needs to learn strength. Especially in Business school? Damn. Those that arrange us the meeting within restorative justice will contact within the next couple of weeks, the corporal called me and told me my little thief agreed to my arrangement. Also, since she had returned the package to the police, we can decide what happens with the package next. Personally, I want it to go to a women’s group, and perhaps she can volunteer at something related to that. I’m glad she is getting the fuck out of my building, I finally felt safe living here after many years of not feeling safe from various other scenarios. Having to be hyper vigilant all over again, I don’t like those feelings. I shouldn’t have to worry about my package being downstairs for three hours that it may be stolen by a jealous baby girl.

I think, at the end of the day, you better watch who you fuck with. Learn respect. Love your community. Be kind to others.

As well as, you better check yourself. Because you never know who your neighbour may be.

Just a little copy paste here what restorative justice is,

“Restorative justice has been part of Canada’s criminal justice system for over 40 years. Restorative justice is commonly defined as an approach to justice that focuses on addressing the harm caused by crime while holding the offender responsible for their actions, by providing an opportunity for the parties directly affected by the crime – victims, offenders and communities – to identify and address their needs in the aftermath of a crime.

Restorative justice is based on an understanding that crime is a violation of people and relationships. The principles of restorative justice are based on respect, compassion and inclusivity. Restorative justice encourages meaningful engagement and accountability and provides an opportunity for healing, reparation and reintegration. Restorative justice processes take various forms and may take place at all stages of the criminal justice system.”

From the Justice Government of Canada website

CHANGED BEHAVIOR

At the most basic level, changed behaviour by the offender means not committing crimes. This is why negotiated agreements will include elements such as changing the offender’s environment, helping the offender learn new behaviours, and rewarding positive change. Attending school and not hanging out in old haunts are ways to change the environment. Drug treatment programmes, anger management classes, and educational and job training programmes are ways that offenders learn new behaviours. Follow-up meetings to the encounters may be used to monitor the offender’s progress in trying to change and give him/her positive reinforcement on progress made.

GENEROSITY

But the outcomes of restorative processes suggest that victims and offenders may move beyond simply balancing the books. Offenders may offer to perform services that are not related to the crime or to the victim, but that are understood by the victim as evidence of a sincere apology. For example, the offender may agree to perform community service at an agency the victim chooses.

RESTITUTION

Restitution can be made by returning or replacing property, paying money, or providing direct services to the victim. Restitution should be paid first to the persons suffering direct harm from the crime, including surviving family members of murder victims. If community service is ordered or agreed to as a way of “paying a debt to society”, rather than volunteered as evidence of generosity, it is important to have a clear link between the crime and the community service the offender will do. Ideally, it will have a direct bearing on the needs and interests of the victim.

From restorativejustice.org