About Carli

I write, badly.

Me too.

I’m finally at a point in my life and with my mental health where I can talk about this candidly. I’ve sat on this event for over a decade and a half out of fear and embarrassment I suppose, but sweeping this under the carpet like a dirty little secret only gives him power.

For years counsellors and other mental health professionals considered my ordeal a “grey area” and they weren’t sure how I could go about “healing”. Nowadays, what I dealt with is much more common and it’s nice to see that this next generation has access to the help that wasn’t available back in 2001.


I don’t even know where to start with this pile of shit. He was an incredibly charismatic con artist who used his LGBTQ status to weave and manipulate an incredibly touching sob story to reel myself and others into accepting him as family. From there so many lies unraveled and drama unfolded that it would take an entire novel to write out the shit he put us through. 


A lot of it was textbook narcissistic/sociopathic abuse. He was one step above us at every turn. If something started smelling fishy, he would derail us into something bigger and take our attention away from the small crack in his facade.


He “went away” to Vancouver for a while and came back HIV positive he said from his “risky lifestyle” in less than a year, that supposedly turned into full blown AIDS AND he was dying and needed us more than ever.


We did so much for him.


Anyway, long story short, he pretended to be a boy my age (15) online and pressured me into sexual stuff and some nude pictures. I remember when everything clicked and I realised it was him all along. Unfortunately he was already serving a jail sentence (for unrelated things) so I never got to say my piece or rocket-kick his testicles off his body.


I was already showing signs of depression before this happened, but this just made everything so much worse. I was so fucked up from everything and I still remember the horrible things I said to my parents back then. What happened was not their fault. None of it was. I sincerely mean that from the bottom of my heart.


I also remember the night he called my Mom from jail and she told him that she. Knew. Everything. The venom that dripped from her voice permeated into the upstairs hallway where I crouched listening to the entire exchange. I believe my dad later visited him in jail and exchanged words as well, but we never really talked about it.


A few years later, two people close to me finally came forward that they too had been preyed upon by him. Both were coaxed into sexual situations, but I will leave it at that for the sake of anonymity and because it isn’t my story to discuss – but it was like the bandage had been ripped off all over again. How many people has this guy completely fucked up. We were minors. He was not.


So I vowed to remain an ever lingering shadow in his life. It was pretty easy to gain access to his Facebook account since I used the same tactics he did to me. From there I got his email and his phone number and first sent him my victim impact statement of sorts, and then let him know that I’m watching. I know his secrets. When he opened his brewery business in Penticton, when he was named young entrepreneur of the year, I was there, ready to ruin him. One of his other victims watches too, but they’ve always been a tell-it-as-it-is kinda person and got the message to him bluntly and perfectly many times scaring him into hiding. He SHOULD be afraid of us. Neither of us are afraid to lose freedoms over justice.


We never had to act on our threats, because he self destructs often. A person can only have so many demons on their back at one time after all.


So that pretty much brings us into the now. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m also not afraid to publicly name and shame him for the world to see.


Cameron Lawton is a pedophile.

A QUICK UPDATE

I didn’t update last week because everything was on fire (literally) and I was at my parents for the duration which meant that I had to work as their slave in the sugar mines.

That is my official story and I am sticking to it.

Last week was the first week I missed blogging since April and I felt kinda bad about it. I’m also sorry to say that I may be blogging less and less in the future now because I am dying.

JUST KIDDING! I’m actually starting up something rad that will hopefully be much more successful and joyful to maintain. Everything is hush-hush for now though! SUPER SECRET!

I’m making pho and my cat has entered his terrible twos or something, so I must bid adieu.

Haters gonna hate, potaters gonna potate

I used to be a Lululemon fanatic and still have a lot of their apparel in my regular rotation of clothing. Most of it came from their “we made too much” section on their website or from lucky finds at Value Village. Kellan’s sister also gave me a butt-load of pants last year that have kept me adequately clothed so I haven’t purchased anything new in awhile, mostly because their quality has gone noticeably downhill and I find a lot of their new apparel too funky and unflattering for my potato shaped body.

Baking Potato side view

I’m lazy today. Pretend this potato has yoga pants on.

Lately I’ve been noticing that a lot of the clothing I eyeball at stores is not holding up to my standard of quality. I’m not one to swaddle myself in cashmere and luxury velour or anything, but if I am spending money on a new garment, it shouldn’t already feel like wet questionable paper on the rack pre-purchase.

I like to ask Google questions like a lonely old person, so I passively typed in “why are clothes so shitty these days?” and promptly tumbled down an interestingly jagged rabbit hole where you come out feeling super shitty and suspicious at the other end. I read up on fast fashion, the people who commonly make our clothes, and then how much of it gets thrown away. It’s gross, it’s not fair, and it’s incredibly disheartening.

In a nutshell, fast fashion is the now common practice of companies shucking out large amounts of subpar clothing that becomes obsolete once that particular fashion trend is over. The clothes and accessories are sold cheaply enough as a way to give the customer an excuse that it’s not really hurting them financially but in reality they are spending more to keep up with what’s popular, cute and in “season”.

THERE ARE NO SEASONS ANYMORE HOWEVER! ONLY MICRO SEASONS AND PAIN!

All those clothes being churned out also means a lot more waste. Either from unworn/unbought items being tossed because they quickly fall out of fashion, or because their quality is such shit that you go to wear them once then rip the crotch out with an impromptu sexy leg lunge and toss them out that way.

Then there’s also the matter of who is producing this massive hoard of wayward apparel. Fabric has to be made, dyed, measured, cut and sewn not to mention other embellishments like buttons and zippers. To keep things cheap for the company and affordable on the consumer’s end, this means that the work is being outsourced overseas to areas where impoverished people will gladly work horrible hours in disgusting conditions in order to feed themselves and their families. Because of the standards set by both us, the buyer, and various company’s participation in fast fashion, more of these factories are gonna pop up, nobody is receiving fair pay or treatment, and we are literally being choked to death by our own patterned leggings.

It’s not just fashion either! The rampant supply and demand of consumerism is killing us all! KILLING. US. ALL.

Anyway, I’m a pretty passive human and I don’t really get overly excited or radiate activism, but the older I get, the more certain things bother me into taking them to heart and giving a sincere nod in their direction. Choosing where and when I spend my money is an easy way cause a little ripple on the sea.

Finding alternative clothing companies that promote an ethical and sustainable business model has been easier said than done, but they do exist! I’m also going to rely more on well made basics from the thrift store and try to be mindful of what I have in my closet already.

A friend of mine (who seems to be a bottomless pit of cool ideas and INSPIRATION TO ME) recently started up a rad company in my hometown, so I am gonna drop that link and buy a goddamn shirt when I get to Lethbridge because first of all it’s all about what I want to support, secondly the designs are cool as heck, and third – which is something I really want to stress about another time is supporting the little guy, your local mom and pop store, AKA A SMALL BUSINESS.

Do you make your own clothes or upcycle stuff in cool ways? Please let me know so I can admire you!

Does God ever speak through CATS?

I’m eating spicy phở and praying to the noodle gods that my face stops feeling like it’s gonna explode from the pressure of what I assume is something attacking my sinus cavity. Luckily I write my blog entries a few days in advance so I don’t have to sit on the computer too long tonight and can go back to my sweet sweet Netflix.

It’s beginning to feel like fall outside. Everything is still hot and green but I can feel it coming IN MY BONES. I love fall! I come alive in the fall and early winter! I wish fall lasted longer than two weeks in Alberta though. Oh how my body aches for a picturesque autumn like one of those on the east coast (minus all the New Yorkers screaming and fighting the vibrant foliage of course.)

extralarge

This year however, the leaves had a cunning plan for revenge. 

This week has flown by and has arguably been one of the best ones in a long time. Having a new kitten is amazing and we’ve had absolutely zero issues with William so far. GOD DAMN I LOVE THAT CAT!

babywill

Yesterday was Will’s first visit to the vet clinic here in town and other than crying salty alligator tears because he had to go in his fancy plush-lined cat carrier for all of 20 minutes, he was a very good baby. Turns out he did have a case of ear mites so he had his ears professionally cleaned and then got de-wormed for good measure since he was a barn kitten and had a feral mother. I think Kellan was much more upset than Will was though and I was pretty much banished to one corner of the examination room so he could clutch the cat to his bosom and kiss him while the vet did his thang. Kellan is a tough cookie and your typical manly man except in one area apparently, and that’s kittens. It honestly makes me heart swell with love to see this huge guy protecting a tiny ball of fluff and claws with all his might.

William has also gained an entire pound since we got him last Friday, which is impressive! Thanks 30 dollar cat food!

In other news, I’m still in physio and it’s been amazing! I gush about it all the time in person because I have felt better in these last six weeks than I have in over a decade. I’ve also never woke up excited to go exercise until this summer and that’s a weird feeling for me to have.

I can move better, my flexibility has improved, and I don’t have nearly as much inflammation in the area. I still can’t lift shit, but that’s probably because my lower vertebrae looks like a squished Oreo. Improvements are improvements though!

Anyway, I started watching “The Mist” since it’s apparently a series on Netflix now and ehhh, it’s not bad but I don’t have that wonderful feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach like I did reading the story, or the movie. I guess I just wanted more monsters doing monster stuff and less CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

the-mist-2007-still-1

MORE OF THIS PLEASE. Do a show on this guy. I want to know his likes/dislikes and grow to love his complex nature. Does he have a wife? Where does he work? I’d like to know!

Set your phasers to FUN! 

Last week a coworker of Kellan’s invited us over to her farm to play with BARN KITTENS! Long story short, after feverishly cat-proofing the apartment and throwing money at the local pet store, I brought one home with us on Friday. So far it’s been a very good decision and my life is now ENRICHED!

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This is the first picture I saw of him and I knew we were meant to be!

His name is William Catner and he’s a very good boy so far. I was prepared for a world full of trouble, since kittens are usually little shitheads, but he’s already figured out his litter box, eats the food I give him, and purrs at EVERYTHING! I can’t get over how how easily he adjusted to all these new things in less than one weekend. When Henry was a baby, he was a literal terrorist for months, and we adopted Mr. Kitty as a senior cat, so we never got to know what kind of kitten he was – but man, am I thrilled with how this is all playing out. I LOVE HIM.

baby1

I’ve been bombarding social media with pictures and videos, but I can’t help it. Luckily my friend and follower list is mostly compiled of fervent cat lovers so I don’t think anyone truly minds.

Anyway,  cutting this short because KITTEN!

KITTEN KITTEN KITTEN KITTEN KITTEN KITTEN KITTEN KITTEN