Post by Felicity Renee Whittaker on Jul 21, 2012 16:27:06 GMT -7
felicity r. whittaker
24. FEMALE. WEREWOLF. BISEXUAL.
Felicity clears her throat and then lets out a sigh before she rolls her eyes at the camera. Her red hair falls in wavy locks across her shoulders and her face is primped and ready for a night out on the town.
Instead of writing in a journal like my shrink ordered me to, I decided to use a video journal, at least for the times when I feel that talking is a lot more useful than writing. Not that I don’t love to write, mind you, I do. I just want an easier piece to destroy in case this disc ever got into the wrong hands. And I’m not so worried about evidence of it being me in terms of having a journal instead because my handwriting is as genuine to finding that it is me as my face is. When I’m not at home and I feel the need to jot something down, which I find entirely unlikely, then I’ll carry with me the journal that Dr. Collins gave to me.
So, if you’re watching this, you’re probably wondering why I’ve gotta write in a journal in the first place. Actually, let’s just be honest, shall we? You’re wondering why a seemingly put together young woman like myself has her own personal therapist. That’s simple. I’m nuts.
She gives a very convincing face of mental instability before the laughing under her breath turns into a huge giggling fit and a tear or two streams over her cheeks from the pressure of the laughing. She wipes it away, takes a few deep breaths to calm down, and continues.
No, I’m not really nuts. At least, not anymore than any other normal individual out there trying to get by in life. I’ve got my own therapist, who I’ve been seeing for five years now, because I’ve got Acute Anxiety Disorder and my parents paid for him. Acute Anxiety Disorder, for those of you who somehow might be watching this and having a great big laugh at my expense - YES YOU JESSICA OR MIKE, OR ANTHONY –and also who probably haven’t listened to me when I’ve explained it before, is a condition where I get panic attacks, and quite often. They can put a toll on me physically as well as mentally, and since I’ve been fighting my disorder (and it’s been winning) for the last decade, my parents insisted I find a reason behind it, since there just MUST be a way to fix it with money.
Let me stop right there.
My parents, in all their good nature as they so believe, feel that any problem can be fixed by throwing money at it. You see, my parents are filthy rich. My dad is the CEO of a huge law firm in New York and my mother comes from southern money which she inherited (as well as her dowry from getting married). The two of them are a force to be reckoned with and they know all too well how to invest properly and keep the money coming in. So, yea, I was born with a gold not silver spoon in my mouth.
Sure, being rich growing up had its perks, but what the tv shows and movies don’t tell you is that growing up with rich parents means growing up with harsh expectations on your shoulders.
Someone yells “FELICITY! Come on!” and she turns her face away from the camera in the direction the shouting came from. She sighs and smiles and looks back at the camera with a regretful attitude.
Well, I guess I’ll have to finish this later. Stay on your toes people, I’ve got a lot more to say!
She reaches out to turn off the camera and the screen goes dark signaling the end of the little movie.
Journal Entry # 1 - January 2012
I broke my camera and haven't had time to get another one. More than anything, I am too lazy to go out of my way to get another one. So now I'm finally writing in this silly little journal that Dr. Collins gave me.
Classes have been going horribly. I don't have the patience or motive to want to go most of the time. People have ridiculous ideas and I hate going to classes that aren't in subjects that interest me. The professor told me that she would have to let my father know. Things are not going to end well. I know that.
The only good thing that happened in class was being asked out on a date. That is, until later that night, we went out on the date and the guy got way too serious. He started talking about love and wanting to get married and how he really wanted to have a huge house of kids. First thing is that I just wanted to have a good time and he brought me down. The second problem were his thoughts on love. Love is absolutely ridiculous. People misconstrue fun friendships and amazing sex to be a stimulant of something they call love. I see this as ridiculous. I've never believed that I'll meet someone that I can't live without. People can easily disappoint you and putting all your dependence on one person is ridiculous.
I enjoy life. I don't need 'love'. I've got great friends, good sex with certain partners who agree that no strings is the best way, and I have nobody holding me back or questioning my every move. Well other than my parents.
And I'm not a whore though. I haven't been with that many people sexually, but I flirt a lot and I don't mind hooking up and doing things up to sex, and with guys or girls. But I won't just sleep with anyone and I'm not desperate for sex. I just want to get enjoyment out of life.
Journal Entry # 27 - March 2012
My parents found out about how I was doing in school, and suffice to say, the talk did not end well. I told them that I didn't have an interest in the classes they'd forced me to take. They had this idea for me of being in a college to subject myself to the future rich man I would marry one day. I feel that's a ridiculous reason to want your child to go to college. I was 20 credits from graduating and it still wasn't worth the trouble. I don't want my whole future planned out by my family. And I told them this.
After a lot of yelling and argument, they agreed to let me stay in California if I'd agree to consider going on a date with one of the sons of my dad's best friend. I figured that one date wouldn't hurt, and well, I guess I'm still not sure about it. My dad is letting me 'take a break' from college as I put it. I get my stubborn and blunt personality from my dad and he knew that because of that, I wasn't going to easily back down. I told him I needed a break because the stress was too much. But now he's got big plans for me and this guy I have never met. I'm still not sure how I feel about this, but I'm not enthused, that's for sure.
I'll make the best out of this situation, I'm sure. Besides, if it comes to it, I've got a back-up plan. I've been hoarding plenty of money on the side if things go bad with my parents and it'll help until I can find a job. And having best friends is a big help as well. If I have to, any of them would let me stay at their houses without question or condition.
That's enough for now, I guess.
Exercise # 42 - March 2012
Dr. Collins said that it would help me if I could write down my strengths and weakness, and especially things that stressed me out. I told him I'd give it a try. He's grown on me this last year. Recently we had coffee when I needed to talk about things out side of my sessions. You see, my sessions take place in his office which is all the way back in New York. I fly out every few weeks for the weekend and I have 2-3 sessions with him while I'm home during that time. He told me over coffee that his wife killed herself a year ago. He never told me this, even though I've known him for give years. I could understand that he's my therapist and also tens years older than me, but he's still a big part of my life and it made me realize that I'd never bothered asking about his. He would say that since my time is paid for with him, that we should focus on me, and it also crosses some line to become so close, but since he knows I'm argumentative, and stubborn as hell (I guess some people would see those as weaknesses but I don't) then he knows that I could come up with a reason why he was being completely dumb. I told him that it was only right I find out some about his life since he'd heard every odd detail about mine for the last five years - after all, it was only fair. He caved when he realized talking over coffee was a sign of being friends and it wasn't simply a doctor/patient moment. That seemed to make him feel more comfortable, so he told me. I have to say that understanding a little about my therapist has made me see some things in myself.
But anyway, I don't want to make this a journal entry - more an introduction to the sheet of paper I'll staple in here of my personal exercise.
My strengths: I'm a great shopper and a wonderful dresser. I can find the best looking ensembles that no one else has and more often than not for dirt cheap. I use to buy designer clothes all the time, but since I've had to start saving money just in case I need it later, I've been going to thrift shops and finding great items there and I've fallen in love with it. I've practically made it a business (well for free) since I've been helping my friends do it too. It's like a religion to me now.
I'm compassionate. Sometimes it doesn't seem like it since I tell people the truth even if they don't want to hear it, but it's only because I believe that's what people deserve. I will listen to friends and I'll be there for them in their time of need. And since I've got a therapist, I spend less time spilling my problems to my friends and a lot more time listening compared to when I was in boarding school and high school when I was younger.
I can argue. Yes, people get annoyed at this and it can cause a lot of issues, but can you imagine how useful it is to be able to argue effectively? It's pretty damn important and I'm damn good at it, thank you very much. So screw you if you think it's a weakness, because it isn't to me.
My weaknesses: I'm stubborn as hell. Okay, first let me start off on this one by saying that I am being FORCED to consider this a weakness. My best girl friend and lifelong soul sister has found out this little project and demanded that I be honest about my stubborn attitude. I still don't agree with her, since I simply believe in getting what I want and getting things my way. I mean, if you don't fight for things you want, then what's the point, right? She says it makes me difficult. You would think after so many years of friendship that she'd get over it, but she still hasn't. I know I can be a pain but I get pretty set in what I want and I ferociously go after things (sometimes violently but not physical violence... mostly).
The only other thing I can think of that people have told me is a weakness is that I like to have fun. Apparently barely going to class, smoking weed (hey, I've got a medical license because of my condition damn it) and going out at night to clubs and dancing, drinking, and leaving with guys or girls is a problem. I don't always have sex with people I leave with and I don't always leave with someone. I'm also not an alcoholic. I only drink socially or a glass of wine if I'm absolutely having the worst day. I enjoy sex, yes, but I've got people for that, so I don't have to lower myself to picking up people in bars and clubs. And the weed thing? People don't understand. People who know nothing about it have an opinion. It's the only thing that keeps my attacks at bay and I am so thankful I eventually caved and tried it. Believe it or not with how much I use now, I never believed in the stuff myself. I thought it was all lazy people with no money who smoked, or people who wanted to 'go against the system'. But the claims that it helps medical conditions is accurate. You can ask my friends how many attacks they've witnessed me have since I got the license four months ago and how many they saw me have before then. Then you'll be convinced.
Journal Entry # 27 - June 2012
The guy my parents wanted me to go on a date with has rescheduled on me quite a few times. I guess he was just moving to town a month ago and had to get settled. He's been out in California for two years, as it turns out and didn't live too far from Dorrington. I guess his dad's brother already lives here and they decided to live together. Since then though, I haven't seen him. My parents insist that he's just busy, but I'm getting fed up, and so is my dad quite frankly. Oh, but not at the guy, at me. He says I haven't tried to do anything out here and that unless I at least show him proof of some kind of activity out here, he wants me to move back to New York, or the money is being cut off. I don't really care. I'm not moving back, and I don't need his money.
Truth is, I got into stripping a few months back but hadn't admitted to anyone or even written it in this journal. I'm not ashamed - I'm more afraid that my dad would find out.
He's already disappointed with me for leaving school. It doesn't help that I didn't stay because of our little trait...
I probably never mentioned that.
And I hate doing that on paper - where someone could get to this, but I swear I'm going to rip this page out anyway.
My dad is a ... werewolf. God, now I really do sound crazy.
But it's true, and I inherited that 'condition' (as he calls it) from him. Apparently he had some big falling out with his family a long time ago because they wanted him to join their 'pack'? I'm not really sure. He never gives me all the details and rarely likes to talk about it. My mom just pretends that it's a joke between us, despite the fact that she saw me on the grounds of our large estate in New York running around on all fours. She thinks she just had an episode and went to therapy for it - never mentioning to her therapist who or exactly what she saw. In that way, she's pretty intelligent. But she's also pretty naive since my father and I use to leave for father/daughter time every time the full moon was around. Convenient, yeah? But I guess it's easier to deny the truth than to accept the unusual.
That's not such a big deal to me, but since I moved to Dorrington, I realized that my father and his family weren't the only ones.
Almost as soon as I got here, the town's 'pack' sent members to me to tell them that I should join them or not cause them any trouble. I chose the latter. I sure as hell don't want to be in some freaky cult-like thing just because we all turn into wolves when the full moon happens to come around. That just doesn't sit right with me. Besides, I just got out from under my dad's thumb, so why on earth would I want to be controlled by anyone else? I don't know. But they seemed to be okay with me not accepting the membership. I'm still sure they keep an eye on me and make sure I don't cause trouble, but I don't do any more than most of the humans in this screwed up town. I guess it attracted me for the club scene and the drugs. The most I've ever done beyond weed was ecstasy and shrooms like three times, though. I'd rather just drink and smoke weed legally than get too crazy.
Most of my night life is either working the pole (which I make damn good money at) or clubbing. The only problem is I seem to be burning through my money faster than I'm making it and I don't know what I'm going to do. One of my friends at the club where I work told me that some of the girls are making almost double because of 'extras' they do. I'm almost tempted to look into it more, but I'm really not sure, because I'm not dumb and I'm got a pretty good idea what those extras entail.
Instead of writing in a journal like my shrink ordered me to, I decided to use a video journal, at least for the times when I feel that talking is a lot more useful than writing. Not that I don’t love to write, mind you, I do. I just want an easier piece to destroy in case this disc ever got into the wrong hands. And I’m not so worried about evidence of it being me in terms of having a journal instead because my handwriting is as genuine to finding that it is me as my face is. When I’m not at home and I feel the need to jot something down, which I find entirely unlikely, then I’ll carry with me the journal that Dr. Collins gave to me.
So, if you’re watching this, you’re probably wondering why I’ve gotta write in a journal in the first place. Actually, let’s just be honest, shall we? You’re wondering why a seemingly put together young woman like myself has her own personal therapist. That’s simple. I’m nuts.
She gives a very convincing face of mental instability before the laughing under her breath turns into a huge giggling fit and a tear or two streams over her cheeks from the pressure of the laughing. She wipes it away, takes a few deep breaths to calm down, and continues.
No, I’m not really nuts. At least, not anymore than any other normal individual out there trying to get by in life. I’ve got my own therapist, who I’ve been seeing for five years now, because I’ve got Acute Anxiety Disorder and my parents paid for him. Acute Anxiety Disorder, for those of you who somehow might be watching this and having a great big laugh at my expense - YES YOU JESSICA OR MIKE, OR ANTHONY –and also who probably haven’t listened to me when I’ve explained it before, is a condition where I get panic attacks, and quite often. They can put a toll on me physically as well as mentally, and since I’ve been fighting my disorder (and it’s been winning) for the last decade, my parents insisted I find a reason behind it, since there just MUST be a way to fix it with money.
Let me stop right there.
My parents, in all their good nature as they so believe, feel that any problem can be fixed by throwing money at it. You see, my parents are filthy rich. My dad is the CEO of a huge law firm in New York and my mother comes from southern money which she inherited (as well as her dowry from getting married). The two of them are a force to be reckoned with and they know all too well how to invest properly and keep the money coming in. So, yea, I was born with a gold not silver spoon in my mouth.
Sure, being rich growing up had its perks, but what the tv shows and movies don’t tell you is that growing up with rich parents means growing up with harsh expectations on your shoulders.
Someone yells “FELICITY! Come on!” and she turns her face away from the camera in the direction the shouting came from. She sighs and smiles and looks back at the camera with a regretful attitude.
Well, I guess I’ll have to finish this later. Stay on your toes people, I’ve got a lot more to say!
She reaches out to turn off the camera and the screen goes dark signaling the end of the little movie.
Journal Entry # 1 - January 2012
I broke my camera and haven't had time to get another one. More than anything, I am too lazy to go out of my way to get another one. So now I'm finally writing in this silly little journal that Dr. Collins gave me.
Classes have been going horribly. I don't have the patience or motive to want to go most of the time. People have ridiculous ideas and I hate going to classes that aren't in subjects that interest me. The professor told me that she would have to let my father know. Things are not going to end well. I know that.
The only good thing that happened in class was being asked out on a date. That is, until later that night, we went out on the date and the guy got way too serious. He started talking about love and wanting to get married and how he really wanted to have a huge house of kids. First thing is that I just wanted to have a good time and he brought me down. The second problem were his thoughts on love. Love is absolutely ridiculous. People misconstrue fun friendships and amazing sex to be a stimulant of something they call love. I see this as ridiculous. I've never believed that I'll meet someone that I can't live without. People can easily disappoint you and putting all your dependence on one person is ridiculous.
I enjoy life. I don't need 'love'. I've got great friends, good sex with certain partners who agree that no strings is the best way, and I have nobody holding me back or questioning my every move. Well other than my parents.
And I'm not a whore though. I haven't been with that many people sexually, but I flirt a lot and I don't mind hooking up and doing things up to sex, and with guys or girls. But I won't just sleep with anyone and I'm not desperate for sex. I just want to get enjoyment out of life.
Journal Entry # 27 - March 2012
My parents found out about how I was doing in school, and suffice to say, the talk did not end well. I told them that I didn't have an interest in the classes they'd forced me to take. They had this idea for me of being in a college to subject myself to the future rich man I would marry one day. I feel that's a ridiculous reason to want your child to go to college. I was 20 credits from graduating and it still wasn't worth the trouble. I don't want my whole future planned out by my family. And I told them this.
After a lot of yelling and argument, they agreed to let me stay in California if I'd agree to consider going on a date with one of the sons of my dad's best friend. I figured that one date wouldn't hurt, and well, I guess I'm still not sure about it. My dad is letting me 'take a break' from college as I put it. I get my stubborn and blunt personality from my dad and he knew that because of that, I wasn't going to easily back down. I told him I needed a break because the stress was too much. But now he's got big plans for me and this guy I have never met. I'm still not sure how I feel about this, but I'm not enthused, that's for sure.
I'll make the best out of this situation, I'm sure. Besides, if it comes to it, I've got a back-up plan. I've been hoarding plenty of money on the side if things go bad with my parents and it'll help until I can find a job. And having best friends is a big help as well. If I have to, any of them would let me stay at their houses without question or condition.
That's enough for now, I guess.
Exercise # 42 - March 2012
Dr. Collins said that it would help me if I could write down my strengths and weakness, and especially things that stressed me out. I told him I'd give it a try. He's grown on me this last year. Recently we had coffee when I needed to talk about things out side of my sessions. You see, my sessions take place in his office which is all the way back in New York. I fly out every few weeks for the weekend and I have 2-3 sessions with him while I'm home during that time. He told me over coffee that his wife killed herself a year ago. He never told me this, even though I've known him for give years. I could understand that he's my therapist and also tens years older than me, but he's still a big part of my life and it made me realize that I'd never bothered asking about his. He would say that since my time is paid for with him, that we should focus on me, and it also crosses some line to become so close, but since he knows I'm argumentative, and stubborn as hell (I guess some people would see those as weaknesses but I don't) then he knows that I could come up with a reason why he was being completely dumb. I told him that it was only right I find out some about his life since he'd heard every odd detail about mine for the last five years - after all, it was only fair. He caved when he realized talking over coffee was a sign of being friends and it wasn't simply a doctor/patient moment. That seemed to make him feel more comfortable, so he told me. I have to say that understanding a little about my therapist has made me see some things in myself.
But anyway, I don't want to make this a journal entry - more an introduction to the sheet of paper I'll staple in here of my personal exercise.
My strengths: I'm a great shopper and a wonderful dresser. I can find the best looking ensembles that no one else has and more often than not for dirt cheap. I use to buy designer clothes all the time, but since I've had to start saving money just in case I need it later, I've been going to thrift shops and finding great items there and I've fallen in love with it. I've practically made it a business (well for free) since I've been helping my friends do it too. It's like a religion to me now.
I'm compassionate. Sometimes it doesn't seem like it since I tell people the truth even if they don't want to hear it, but it's only because I believe that's what people deserve. I will listen to friends and I'll be there for them in their time of need. And since I've got a therapist, I spend less time spilling my problems to my friends and a lot more time listening compared to when I was in boarding school and high school when I was younger.
I can argue. Yes, people get annoyed at this and it can cause a lot of issues, but can you imagine how useful it is to be able to argue effectively? It's pretty damn important and I'm damn good at it, thank you very much. So screw you if you think it's a weakness, because it isn't to me.
My weaknesses: I'm stubborn as hell. Okay, first let me start off on this one by saying that I am being FORCED to consider this a weakness. My best girl friend and lifelong soul sister has found out this little project and demanded that I be honest about my stubborn attitude. I still don't agree with her, since I simply believe in getting what I want and getting things my way. I mean, if you don't fight for things you want, then what's the point, right? She says it makes me difficult. You would think after so many years of friendship that she'd get over it, but she still hasn't. I know I can be a pain but I get pretty set in what I want and I ferociously go after things (sometimes violently but not physical violence... mostly).
The only other thing I can think of that people have told me is a weakness is that I like to have fun. Apparently barely going to class, smoking weed (hey, I've got a medical license because of my condition damn it) and going out at night to clubs and dancing, drinking, and leaving with guys or girls is a problem. I don't always have sex with people I leave with and I don't always leave with someone. I'm also not an alcoholic. I only drink socially or a glass of wine if I'm absolutely having the worst day. I enjoy sex, yes, but I've got people for that, so I don't have to lower myself to picking up people in bars and clubs. And the weed thing? People don't understand. People who know nothing about it have an opinion. It's the only thing that keeps my attacks at bay and I am so thankful I eventually caved and tried it. Believe it or not with how much I use now, I never believed in the stuff myself. I thought it was all lazy people with no money who smoked, or people who wanted to 'go against the system'. But the claims that it helps medical conditions is accurate. You can ask my friends how many attacks they've witnessed me have since I got the license four months ago and how many they saw me have before then. Then you'll be convinced.
Journal Entry # 27 - June 2012
The guy my parents wanted me to go on a date with has rescheduled on me quite a few times. I guess he was just moving to town a month ago and had to get settled. He's been out in California for two years, as it turns out and didn't live too far from Dorrington. I guess his dad's brother already lives here and they decided to live together. Since then though, I haven't seen him. My parents insist that he's just busy, but I'm getting fed up, and so is my dad quite frankly. Oh, but not at the guy, at me. He says I haven't tried to do anything out here and that unless I at least show him proof of some kind of activity out here, he wants me to move back to New York, or the money is being cut off. I don't really care. I'm not moving back, and I don't need his money.
Truth is, I got into stripping a few months back but hadn't admitted to anyone or even written it in this journal. I'm not ashamed - I'm more afraid that my dad would find out.
He's already disappointed with me for leaving school. It doesn't help that I didn't stay because of our little trait...
I probably never mentioned that.
And I hate doing that on paper - where someone could get to this, but I swear I'm going to rip this page out anyway.
My dad is a ... werewolf. God, now I really do sound crazy.
But it's true, and I inherited that 'condition' (as he calls it) from him. Apparently he had some big falling out with his family a long time ago because they wanted him to join their 'pack'? I'm not really sure. He never gives me all the details and rarely likes to talk about it. My mom just pretends that it's a joke between us, despite the fact that she saw me on the grounds of our large estate in New York running around on all fours. She thinks she just had an episode and went to therapy for it - never mentioning to her therapist who or exactly what she saw. In that way, she's pretty intelligent. But she's also pretty naive since my father and I use to leave for father/daughter time every time the full moon was around. Convenient, yeah? But I guess it's easier to deny the truth than to accept the unusual.
That's not such a big deal to me, but since I moved to Dorrington, I realized that my father and his family weren't the only ones.
Almost as soon as I got here, the town's 'pack' sent members to me to tell them that I should join them or not cause them any trouble. I chose the latter. I sure as hell don't want to be in some freaky cult-like thing just because we all turn into wolves when the full moon happens to come around. That just doesn't sit right with me. Besides, I just got out from under my dad's thumb, so why on earth would I want to be controlled by anyone else? I don't know. But they seemed to be okay with me not accepting the membership. I'm still sure they keep an eye on me and make sure I don't cause trouble, but I don't do any more than most of the humans in this screwed up town. I guess it attracted me for the club scene and the drugs. The most I've ever done beyond weed was ecstasy and shrooms like three times, though. I'd rather just drink and smoke weed legally than get too crazy.
Most of my night life is either working the pole (which I make damn good money at) or clubbing. The only problem is I seem to be burning through my money faster than I'm making it and I don't know what I'm going to do. One of my friends at the club where I work told me that some of the girls are making almost double because of 'extras' they do. I'm almost tempted to look into it more, but I'm really not sure, because I'm not dumb and I'm got a pretty good idea what those extras entail.
LINDSEY - ADMIN EDIT - KAREN GILLAN.
