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bossymarmalade) wrote2012-12-22 07:59 am
bossymarmalade) wrote2012-12-22 07:59 am
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What I have always feared re: Facebook has finally come to pass -- a person I last knew in junior high has found me and wants to meet up for tea next time he's in Vancouver!!
This request came very suddenly after two minutes of messaging "whereabouts in Vancouver do you live, we should meet next time I'm there", and omg y'all, you must understand why I am so leery, because this is Trevor C__.
Trevor C__ was an affected, watching kind of boy who was obsessed with Anne Frank in Grade 7, when I was friends with him most. I don't mean he was touched by her story and her bravery. I mean he wanted to play Anne Frank all the time (with him as Anne) and the only decorations in his room were a cross and a pencil crayon reproduction of that photo of Anne Frank from the cover of her autobiography that he ordered one Scholastic book drive year. (I perhaps shouldn't judge him too singularly on that count, since sometimes it seemed to me that most Anglo white boys between the ages of 12 and 19 had a pressing interest in all things Nazi -- either that, or there was a preponderance of the type in my area.)
I was over at his house only a few times because he had a Ghostbusters computer game and a trampoline. Once we had hot dogs on paper Chinet plates which we scrupulously washed and dried afterwards. He had a grandmother in a wheelchair who would hiss for him to come aside while she talked to him about confusing, disturbing things in a piercing whisper, watching me the whole time. If you wanted to play on the trampoline, his father made you sign a waiver that exempted the C__ family from responsibility for not only your possible loss of limb and motor function, but also your "sexual drive".
Welcome to Canadian Gothic, folks.
You can see why I haven't been on Facebook since, heh, even though it seems that he's dampened down the Anne Frank (I still remember how he used to say it, in throaty blocks that he imagined was the correct Dutch pronunciation) and dialed up the Anglophile, having added many precious turns of phrase to his own Facebook entries.
This was a long and possibly quite dull way of saying -- I know nothing about Facebook. If I unfriend him or whatever, does that mean he can no longer see my entries or message me? Help me, Obi-Wan friendslist!!
This request came very suddenly after two minutes of messaging "whereabouts in Vancouver do you live, we should meet next time I'm there", and omg y'all, you must understand why I am so leery, because this is Trevor C__.
Trevor C__ was an affected, watching kind of boy who was obsessed with Anne Frank in Grade 7, when I was friends with him most. I don't mean he was touched by her story and her bravery. I mean he wanted to play Anne Frank all the time (with him as Anne) and the only decorations in his room were a cross and a pencil crayon reproduction of that photo of Anne Frank from the cover of her autobiography that he ordered one Scholastic book drive year. (I perhaps shouldn't judge him too singularly on that count, since sometimes it seemed to me that most Anglo white boys between the ages of 12 and 19 had a pressing interest in all things Nazi -- either that, or there was a preponderance of the type in my area.)
I was over at his house only a few times because he had a Ghostbusters computer game and a trampoline. Once we had hot dogs on paper Chinet plates which we scrupulously washed and dried afterwards. He had a grandmother in a wheelchair who would hiss for him to come aside while she talked to him about confusing, disturbing things in a piercing whisper, watching me the whole time. If you wanted to play on the trampoline, his father made you sign a waiver that exempted the C__ family from responsibility for not only your possible loss of limb and motor function, but also your "sexual drive".
Welcome to Canadian Gothic, folks.
You can see why I haven't been on Facebook since, heh, even though it seems that he's dampened down the Anne Frank (I still remember how he used to say it, in throaty blocks that he imagined was the correct Dutch pronunciation) and dialed up the Anglophile, having added many precious turns of phrase to his own Facebook entries.
This was a long and possibly quite dull way of saying -- I know nothing about Facebook. If I unfriend him or whatever, does that mean he can no longer see my entries or message me? Help me, Obi-Wan friendslist!!
no subject
Welcome to Canadian Gothic, folks
made me laugh and nod my head because it is so true. Giller shortlisted work of the future!