Posted by: undularbore | December 29, 2010

Screw the Bastards, Part 2

Part 2 (can’t have all this in one post, it might kill ya!)

Next up, spastic me + baby sister + 1 always frustrated mother = me locked up outside A LOT.  I couldn’t do squat anymore, I was too loud, too this or too that. No wonder why I didn’t have separation anxiety once school started for me. Kindergarten was when I started to recognize that I’m not like these other kids. I was one of the last ones to memorize how to spell my name since both first and last names are so long! I enjoyed hanging out with the boys, especially the ones that were “tough”. There was this one boy who broke the rind of his watermelon in front of me and I was in awe and instantly liked him. The girls didn’t like me too much since I was with the boys a lot. I wanted to be friends with everybody but I also started to understand what being picked on means. Kindergarten was also my first experience of the teachers having a meeting with my mom. I knew already at that young age that this might not be so good, since I was always getting into trouble too. I thought I was getting thrown out but as it turned out they wanted to talk to my mother to let her know what an exceptionally bright daughter she had! I remember being happy about that, but something about home life tended to ruin anything that felt good (mom) because I don’t remember feeling good/proud about that for very long. She probably reminded me of how much of an idiot I really am – she was very good at knocking me down whenever I felt good about myself.

When dad was home things were better for me. Dad paid me attention, real attention. Not the flimsy you’re a kid and your bothering me so I’m gonna pretend I’m paying attention to you deal. I could see right through flimsy at a young age. I didn’t have very much emotional attachment to my mother and I wondered about the vice/versa, did she really give a shit about me? If it weren’t for family or a dad would I even be around? I seriously thought about these things.

As I started to go to over to friends houses to play I learned that my mom was different than other moms. It was also very clear to me that my mother had a different relationship with my sister. She doted over her, hell everyone else did too. She was cute, adorable, smiley, bubbly lips, and breast fed (I was not) and seemingly lucky at every turn. Everywhere we went people would remark on how she looks just like my mom and I look just like my dad. Mom’s clear favorite was sister, dad’s clear favorite was me. Which set up a perfect environment for sister on sister battles. Everything and I mean e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g  my sister told my mom was the Absolute Truth®, mom believed her everytime. I got set up many times by my sister, getting me in trouble, getting me sent to my room, getting me locked outside. Bitch. At least I had all sorts of Tonka trucks, other toys and a swingset to occupy me. Oh and a large yard filled with nature and that gave me plenty of opportunities to think. To think about my position in life, where do I fit in, why am I here, why am I different? I knew that if I didn’t play my cards right with my sister the rest of my day would be HELL. Luckily, when my sister reached school age she started not be so vindictive and we started getting along, some. Lord knows she would play her trump card with mom whenever she wasn’t happy with me. Mind games from the beginning!

One of my favorites things as a child was weekends and listening to music. Dad was home on the weekends and listened to music all the time, had a great Technics turntable and a jammin’ system to go with it. Saturdays he would make mix tapes and we would listen to music while chores were being done. That’s when I found out I loved to move to the rhythm, dance and be happy! Sexy dancing came naturally to me, MTV wasn’t even out yet. Maybe SoulTrain polluted me, no matter, I wanted to dance whenever good music was on. Dad’s friends would remark on my dancing and love of music. I had dreams of being a Vegas girl. Fancy costumes, dancing, flirting with men. Sounds great. Once I started playing the piano at 5 years old I also had that escape. Weekends also meant working on cars since dad was a mechanic. There were always people over on the weekends. Naturally I would hang out with dad and his friends and learned about tools very early. Impressing dad’s friends with knowing the difference between a wrench and an adjustable wrench. Heck, I knew how to read fractions by 6 and I understood what spark plugs did, I was his tool monkey. After dealing with mom all week, these breaks hanging out with dad were very enjoyable for me. Since I was treated like a stepchild during the week I enjoyed giving it back to sister on the weekends.

Once I was in grade school I really started to understand how different and perhaps strange I am. I was in a private Catholic school and my father was one of like 2 or 3 fathers that didn’t own his business or worked as a lawyer or something white collar. The children knew about my blue collarness  even though mom drove a relatively new Volvo. I was almost painfully skinny, too. Pants were hard to come by that fit me well! I started learn about being picked-on, I was “poor”, I was boney, I was different. I thought differently than they did and that felt uncomfortable – was something wrong with me? My mom thought there was, most of my peers did. But most of my teachers were supportive of me and there were a few persons here and there that were just as strange as I.

Yeah, friends were hard to come by at that private school school filled with spoiled brats. The good thing about going to Catholic school, I had the early opportunity to understand that organized religion was/is a load of hogwash. I remember my confusion with the Holy Trinity. The Holy What? I thought! I enjoyed being responsible for the rosaries, because over the 4 years I was there I stole about 6 of them. Green, white, black, lavender and yellow are the ones I remember. The fourth grade was when my unusual way of walking was pointed out to my mother and father. Did they take me to a doctor? No. This unusual way of walking would become the subject of awful jokes as I got older.

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