La Rosa Knows
Month
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My rapist’s name is Andrew Paul Bean. He was born in Ohio and graduated from Perrysburg High School in 2009. He currently resides in Los Angeles, California, where he studies theatre and desires to be an actor.
My name is Tucker Reed. I was born in California, and graduated from Ashland…
I recently read this unbelievable story by Tucker Reed, a student at USC who was raped by a fellow USC student named Andrew Paul Bean.
What was most egregious to me, is that she approached USC with a recording of Andrew admitting to raping her, and USC chose to do nothing about this.
Interestingly enough, the University of Southern California recently contacted me asking if I’d like to make a donation. This is the email I sent to the university president and alumni relations:
If you are a USC alum, or just a concerned/wonderful human being, I encourage you to also email the college with your concerns regarding this. Here are their emails, just to make it EXTRA easy. President Nikias: [email protected] Alumni Association: [email protected] xoxoDear President Nikias and the Alumni Association at USC,
My name is Erin La Rosa and I’m a graduate of the MPW program at USC. Recently I was contacted by an undergraduate at the college, seeking a donation. I have always thought of myself as a proud USC alum. I loved my time at USC, and feel that my career has flourished as a result. I now work for a website called BuzzFeed, I’m currently in the midst of writing a book, and I thank USC for a significant portion of that success. The college gave me the tools I needed to make it in my career. However, I no longer feel proud of USC. I was thoroughly disappointed to read about Tucker Reed, a student at USC, who was raped by another USC student, named Andrew Paul Bean. The rape itself was inexcusable, but what I found to be most bizarre was that USC had allegedly received a taped confession of the rape, and chose not to expel Andrew for his conduct. Is USC an institution that serves as a shelter for rapists? Don’t you find it morally reprehensible to send the message to incoming students, who are promised safety, that you protect rapists over victims? What are the college’s plans moving forward to deal with Andrew? Until my questions are answered, I won’t be donating any money to USC. I also certainly won’t be a proud alum. I have hopes that the college will deal with this manner in a fair way to bring justice for Tucker, as well as other victims of rape. Please do the right thing here, and make this USC grad proud to be an alum again. Sincerely, Erin La Rosa
…When I was a kid the internet hadn’t been invented yet so we played a lot of board games.
We’d also pass the time by climbing anything that was climbable..
One time I got a bicycle for Christmas. When I tried it out for the first time the front wheel came off. I don’t think I need to…
These illustrated excerpts from childhood are really fantastic. Love it.
I’m Team Dragons based off of last night’s episode alone!
What’s Valyrian for “badass”?
Here’s something I’m only now willing to admit: I’m not 23 anymore. In fact, I’m 28, and next year I’ll be 29. You guys, I’m basically 40 now.
What made me come to this realization are a few things. The first being that I can no longer drink the way I used to. When I was 23, I was going out to clubs—yes, CLUBS—and taking shots that I would chase with whiskey. I’d head home around 2, eat a bowl of mac and cheese before bed, and wake up around noon the next day feeling pretty accomplished. If I tried to do that now, I would die. Not actually die, but nowadays I am done sauced after two glasses of wine. Give me three and my top comes off. I just don’t have the tolerance that I used to.
Then comes the whole metabolism thing. I’m lucky in that I haven’t had to worry too much about what I eat. At 23 I could have pizza and candy for dinner and know that as long as I didn’t go crazy the next day, no harm would be done to the size of my jeans. Cut to now, when I’m 28, and things are entirely different. If I want pizza, it means I need to monitor how many slices (two max) and go the gym for an hour the next day to make sure I can still zip up my pants. Salads are suddenly a staple. And candy? Sure, so long as I have an elastic waistband handy.
Other things that helped me realize I’m older? I don’t feel the need to stay up past 12 anymore, because I don’t care about what other people think of me. If I meet someone who’s acting like an asshole, I avoid them. I’m not nice to each and every person I meet, like I was at 23, ain’t nobody got time for that. And I’ve started to save massive amounts of money. Instead of shopping with the extra cash I have, I now squirrel it all away in a savings fund. What am I saving for? A house. That’s right. I want to buy some real estate, BECAUSE I’M OLD.
Even though I think a lot of this should be bothering me, it doesn’t. I mean, the metabolism thing SUCKS. It just does. But I can deal with it. Otherwise, getting old has been pretty nice. So far it seems to mean that I’m less insecure, more financially stable, and aware of who I am and what I really want to be.
I don’t know. I could also just be telling myself all of this so that I feel OK about basically being 40. But is anyone else going through something similar?
Boston, the good people of the world are with you.
<3
These Bostonians will restore your faith in humanity.
We all need a little good today.
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Come on, admit it, sometimes you secretly root for this guy. Even if you hate that you are.
This might sound a little strange, but I’ve always wanted to flip a table.
Hear me out: I think it would feel really satisfying. Like, in my fantasy world, I get to flip the table in response to something terrible. For example, say I’m out with a girlfriend and she tells me that she’s back with the loser boyfriend we’ve spent the past three months getting her away from.
Instead of politely nodding and taking a massive gulp of wine, I’d like to just place my hands under the table and push upward with all of my might. It would absolutely get the point across. It would effectively say, “we’re done here,” without having to say a word. I dunno, it sounds kind of amazing to me.
Full disclosure: I’ve had this fantasy of table flipping for a couple of years now. (Clearly the dreaming of a very stable and emotionally mature person.) In fact, sometimes I mimic flipping a table while out at dinner with friends, because even that gives me a sense of, “Ahhhh, yes, that’s the stuff.” Most recently I discussed my desire to flip a table while on a trip to Portugal with my boyfriend, and he even mused about arranging such an endeavor for my birthday. (The desire to flip was in no way related to the fun we were having.)
But I can’t be alone in this need, right? I mean, imagine being in a crowded place, people all around you, and you can just lift the table and flip it over, spilling everything onto the floor and forcing the fellow patrons into a state of dismay. Wouldn’t that be…fun? Wouldn’t it give you a rush? Wouldn’t it make you feel ALIVE?!
Any other fellow hopeful flippers out there? No? OK.
Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects (via souls-entwined)
How very true. #WISE
Whoever gets the most right wins the World Cup of Awesome!
