No means no: open letter to Mom.

Tonight, when my mom came down from her latest tantrum du jour, it was 11:00 PM and my stomach was about to eat itself for the third time over. All I'd eaten today, in the midst of the job hunt and tutoring and crap with Michigan WORKS! again, was a cup of stale tea leftover from last night and some roasted potatoes. By eleven PM I'd been up for more than thirteen hours and my IM buddies were urging me to go get some food before I collapsed onto the keyboard and started twitching.

(No, I haven't noveled, why do you ask? >>)

I went to make soup before I died, rinsed the can out, and went on the porch to put it in recycle. My mom was out there smoking and then grilled me about my eating habits, asked me again for the third time this week if I'm on drugs, and I just shook my head and walked away.

Dear Mom:

I know Most People My Age are twats with about as much moral fiber as a hunk of Jell-O, but I'm not like that. Yes, I go to Big Scary Rock Shows that aren't all that big but they're genuinely scary to you, I go to them quite frequently sometimes (early spring and late fall seem to be when EVERYBODY tours at the same time and so I have to go to a bunch close to each other time-wise cuz otherwise I'll miss these bands till next year). I don't drink there, I don't have sex with people there, I don't try to get in anybody's pants or kiss anybody or do drugs, I mostly just sit around and gossip stupid fanshit with my best friend, talk shit about oh my god those girls whyyyyyy are they HERE oh dear god they were at Attack Attack, why are they heeeeere, mosh, talk to the dudes in the bands, and insult the crappy local acts. I'm not a starfucker, my friends are all transexuals with facial piercings I met on the internet or chicks I was in Girl Scouts with back in grade 4, and on top of that I'm straightedge.

I'm not edge in the obnoxious way, like that kid at the Color of Violence/Fear Before/Baptized In Blood show we drove to Toledo for, who flailed around hardcore dancing and called everybody assholes for drinking in a bar because he's straightedge and he's also in a bar. (And his reason for being edge, when asked to explain, is "BECAUSE I'M FROM D.C. YOU FUCKWIT". So smart, there, dude, thank you for mutilating my system of beliefs.) But I'm edge nonetheless, mom, I'm just quiet about it. Even though clubs don't ID me anymore cuz I look 24 or something, I tell them to mark my hands so everybody knows I can't or won't drink. I don't go to parties. I've never gone to a party in my life. My definition of a party is a football party at My BFF The Girl Scout's house with her family, while we hide out in her room with junk food and talk about how awesome we are. I don't like the feeling my meds give me sometimes, and I'm not going to do that to myself voluntarily.

By wasting money I don't have.

On something my body is going to process out in a few hours anyway.

As if it didn't disagree with my basic fundamental core values on so many levels.

Mom, I'm so edge I'm almost VEGAN. I've never been high or drunk or smoked anything or taken anything funny in my entire life and I intend to keep it that way. When I was fourteen, I read a magazine article about how Davey Havok, this famous rockstar I look up to, who's in a wildly successful little band called AFI, has never smoked or drank in his entire life and he's vegan and that has a name; when all my other friends were getting into drugs and partying and I was sitting at home listening to music still, I finally had something to call it, and that was edge.

You have a much weaker moral compass than mine, though, so I don't really expect you to understand the lifestyle, but at least stop treating me--a slightly nocturnal, proud edge kid who wouldn't dare risk her street cred at this point, if nothing else--like some kind of goddamn junkie because I'm telling you I don't do drugs and won't do drugs but go to get some soup at eleven PM.

Thanks, bitch,

xo
julia