Wordless Wednesday - October 21, 2009

A few vacation pictures. These were taken on the last day of the Canadian National Exhibition. That was September 7th people. I'm shamelessly behind.

Click the thumbnail below for the gallery :)

The Six Degrees Between Junior High, Duran Duran, and Blogging Fiction

**Edited at 7:50 PM AST. I read a great post here and decided it was a good idea to remove specific references to posts related to the story. I'm sure most are aware of the story anyway. ** ____________________________________________________________________________________

In early 1983, I was 12 and a half. I was mad crazy about Duran Duran and they were going to be playing at Maple Leaf Gardens on March 5th.

John Taylor would be in my city breathing my air... *Swoon*.

Under some sort of magic spell (maybe she smoked crack?), my mother not only permitted me to go see the concert, she also gave me money to buy a ticket.

Euphoria!

My friend Elaine and I went to Ticketmaster only to discover they were SOLD OUT. Yes, I cried. I was *this* close to going and my excitement was crushed cpmpletely. (As a mother now, I'm glad - I mean WHAT was my mother thinking?

Anyway... Let's get closer to concert date shall we?

One of my best friends, Shyvonne had apparently received a response from a crazed and desperate fan letter to Nick Rhodes. He was so grateful for having such a fan that he was bestowing on her two tickets to the concert along with backstage passes. She decided to take our other best friend, Michelle.

Elaine and I were left out. Elaine was crushed, but I didn't buy Shyvonne's story. The letter was in her handwritting for crying out loud!

I balked. I said it was all a bunch of crap.

Most (meaning all the girls, the boys could have cared less) of the grade 7 and 8 classes labeled me as jealous. I literally lost friends overnight. Then it became a hate campaign. My refusal to believe or get excited about the biggest impending event in my estranged friends lives had me not only fiendless, but taunted and sneered at. 

Queue March 5, 1983:

I was still pretty depressed that evening. I wanted to go to that concert more than anything in the world. My mother asked me to go store for her and pick up cream. Maybe she wanted to keep me busy? I had to pass Michelle and Shyvonne's houses en route and even though I knew in my heart that they weren't going anywhere that night, there was still bitter jealousy. The whole damn school believed they were going and so there was this sense of imagined reality. Which at the time, beat the hell out of being friendless.

There was no activity outside Michelle's house, but on passing Shyvonne's I could have died from needing someone else to witness what I saw. I'm unsure of the time, but I do know that the concert had already started... And yet there was Shyvonne, getting into the car with both of her parents and her brother. I wish I had a picture of the look on her face when she saw me.

In the morning I saw Michelle walking to school and I told her what I saw. She kind of eluded that I was right, but shrugged her shoulders and nervously stuck with the story. What else could she do?

What happended next baffled me.

In the school yard, Shyvonne was handing out personalised autograph pages to my squeeling classmates like candy. Also, the grade 7 teacher - can't remember her name. Each one of them, lapping up Shyvonne's account of her incredible night. Recounts of songs sung, meeting idols and being fawned over, hugged and kissed by THEM! Michelle was still playing along, though she wasn't as comfortable in the lie - but she was too far gone not play along.  

Shyvonne made a point of giving me my own autograph page. To Karen it said, (in Shyvonne's handwritting). It was signed by "Roger", "Nick", Simon" and "Andy", but like all the other girls, this was individualized - there was an extra note from my personal favorite, "John". Thanks for being such a grate (yes it was spelled like that) fan. 

What a joke. And all these idiots were falling for it!

Needless to say it got worse for me. Added to jealous bitch, was ungrateful and nasty.

Elaine even defended Shyvonne's integrity by boldly coming up to me at my locker at lunch and seethed "Fight; you and me, 1:00... Be there!"

I spent my entire lunch nauseated and terrified. No one liked me. I was surely going to be ganged up on. I debated not going back to school, but did... Though trembling, I was hoping it would be forgotten.

It wasn't.

A throng of haters crossed the field and my heart could have exploded.

Elaine, my friend... screamed a few things, pointed her finger at me and then turned on her heels to walk away.

That was it?? I got bent out of shape over THAT?

I thought you wanted to fight?? My adrenaline replied...

So that was it. I threw down the gloves and we did fight (like girls). I slammed her into the mucky ground and released some bottled frustration over my being outcast and seeing truth and hating the ignorance of others.

No one was hurt thankfully. Elaine was a bit dirty, but it was over really fast.

Several interesting things happened after that in the days that followed:

1. No one messed with me again. The tormenting stopped.

2. Some people gradually confided in me that they didn't believe a word of Shyvonne and Michelle's story. 
3. Everyone eventually stopped talking about the concert and how lucky Shyvonne and Michelle were.

Ultimately, I know that Shyvonne and Michelle never went to that concert. So do they. But... So what? Would it have served me well to go on and on and on about what liars they were? I just wanted my life back. I wanted friends again.

The girls and teacher that bought the story may have really believed it. They may have been reluctant to see the truth because it would have made them feel foolish. Or, maybe they felt sorry for Shyvonne and Michelle and just let it go. Who am I to judge that? It would have made me no better than the lynch mob that had made my life a living hell.

The real moral of the story: I wasn't remembered for being the only person that didn't believe a lie. I got my firends back and: No one ever believed a thing that came out of Shyvonne's mouth ever again.

I learned a lot at 12 and a half. 

When you think about this story and apply it to the whole fiasco that happend recently in the blogging world (we all know who I'm referencing here) - remember it's not about YOU. I believed the story, RT'd it on Twitter and was really pissed when video surfaced that completely contradicted this blogger's story. Now that my own emotions have simmered about the whole thing I know this is between the blogger and the organization she implicated in her false story. I have nothing to do with it. My trust has been the only casualty for me. It's unfortunate, but not worth Jr. High level dramatics.

I hope she issues real truth and real apologies - but above all, I wish for the hatred to just stop.