From: email@example.com (Eric W. Andersson)
Subject: Re: Turning Thirtysomething
Date: 15 May 1995 20:53:05 GMT
David Stevenson (firstname.lastname@example.org) writes:
>email@example.com (Clayton Colwell) writes:
>>Eric had some expectations about his life goals. They weren't fulfilled.
>>He's disappointed and blames himself for not fulfilling them.
>Well, who is to blame for his failure to write a novel or a screenplay
>or even a fucking outline?
Nobody but myself. I'm not trying to shift the blame to anyone. I'm
fully aware that I'm the one who's wasted the time and not done what I
set out to do. I'm sorry that this got you so upset. Looks like I hit a
nerve, hmmmm David?
And for the gentleman who seems to think that I need to run out and
associate with the homeless people to get a better perspective on life,
let me give you a short history on myself. I come from a very abusive and
dysfunctional family. My father abused and humiliated me all through my
early life. He broke my arm, fractured my skull and gave me countless
black eyes and bloody noses. The authorities were called in on three
separate occasions but nothing was done. My father was a police officer
and managed to talk his way out of it all three times. I on the other
hand payed for every call. When I was 16, I told him I was gay and he
threw me out. I lived in the streets, slept in parks and did whatever I
had to do to get food. The only dream I had left by the time I'd spent a
couple of years living like this was to someday become a writer so I would
always have a place to live besides condemned buildings.
So when you tell me that I don't have any idea about homeless people
or starving children, all I can say is Screw You! I've been there.
Sorry to everyone else for the tirade.
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