If anyone has noticed, I haven't been writing a lot lately. I'm escaping the jaws of bad grammar for pictures and other interesting tid-bits. There are a whole lot of things that I do not write about. A WHOLE LOT. Many times I feel that I should write more about my life- my career, my love life, my friends and the way I feel about my family. Then three hours passes..."what was I thinking?!". I like to read blogs of people who aren't afraid to put things out there. Reading through the thoughts of others helps me to remember that I am normal and not the first to feel completely defeated and lonely at times. I'm getting old. I'm single. I have no children. Although I am accomplished in my field I am working pretty much paycheck to paycheck and stretching it. And my credit? I'm going to instead think about my childhood.
My childhood life.
I was a lil badass in my middle class neighborhood filled with two story houses. I rode a pink/pink flowered banana seat Schwinn 3 speed everywhere. I had the NICEST bike. I polished the fenders and the spokes with chrome polish then went to play some kick ball in "the field". It was not odd for a group of kids to be running around Mill Creek Park (unattended) until sundown. I climbed trees and carved names in them with pieces of broken glass. I punched boys in the jaw when they made fun of me because my mom befriended the weirdo in the neighboorhood with matted hair. And I did this all with a dress on most of the time. I had a cockapoo named Bootsy. I LOVED Bootsy so much. Thinking of that dog brings tears to my eyes.
I established the neighborhood's "hide out", a special club that you could only get into by a series of tests. We lit evergreens on fire as incense and smoked cigaretts and played truth-or-dare. "The Warriors" was my neighborhood. At least that's how I remember it.
As we got older, our game of flashlight tag turned into "hide & go get it" whereas, you hid like in hide-and-go-seek, except you had to makeout with whomever you found. This didn't last too long and began to seem monotomus when the boys would keep blurting out EXACTLY where they would be hiding when it was the girls turn. The neighbor next door had a bunch of rabbitts (yes. Rabbits.), I begged and begged for one. I got one and soon ended up with three adorable tiny baby bunnies. Mom finally let us get a cat only to have my little brother, Frankie get cat-scratch fever. Maybe this was why he all of the sudden decided that his name would be spelled "Frankee"? Then I got another little brother, Steven. I had my mind set on that being a Stephanie.
I raised half of the money to purchase a beautiful Red Honda Spree Scooter by cutting grass throughout the neighborhood. I wheeled that green Lawn Boy with pull-start all over the place. I HATED IT. I had to jump in the air to get it started. When people paid me they would invite me in and I would look at all the misc things in their houses. I was selling magazines for school when the elderly woman across the street practically threw me out of her house because I couldn't remember her name and she spotted that I wrote "OLD LADY" on the entry form space reserved for her. My parents were friends with a rock star. He drank an awful lot of gin. He only lived a few streets away and I remember one day when he took Frankie and I back to his house to wake his girlfriend up (?). We climbed on the roof and went in through the window. She awoke startled to say the least and after grabbing the sheets like hundred dollar bills from heaven she said to me "honey, can you please pass me those panties over there?"
I was in public school until third grade. I remember the exact moment when I was sitting on the side of the principal's desk as she was threatening to spank me. I was this close to getting a spanking (which was nothing out of the norm at home) AT SCHOOL and I was scared shitless. I can't even tell you what it was that I did. I remember always getting into trouble that's it. Damn I spent a lot of time in the corner!
I thank the Principal of Sheridan School for shaping my problem with authority, however she cannot take all the credit because by third grade I was a chubby adolescent in a catholic school uniform. Pleats pressed so well you could ice skate on them. I didn't share a "best friend" charm with anyone. I thought I was close once in sixth grade, but Nikki got caught smoking cigarettes by her mom and blamed it on me. She's the one that I was passing the intercepted note to that read "suck my fucking twat you asshole bitch. Vagina." Not an immaculate interception by any means, that went home in an envelope. I just learned those funny words from my older cousins. I had asked my mom if she had kept this or not, it cracks me up now. Imagine Mrs. Brooks going home to her husband all like "So, You'll never guess what happened at catholic school today..."
The boys laughed at me mostly. The cheerleaders were all friends so I was on danceline with the rest of the girls that wanted to be cheerleaders but weren't cool enough. I really enjoyed the friends I had, but I was always a little more odd than the rest. Fitting in was troubling. If I had a detention (which was often) my parents made me walk home from school. It was far. In sixth grade, I got jumped for the first and last time on this 2 mile walk. I peed my pants and none of the passing cars stopped to help my friend or me.
To be continued....