The prevailing theory would be that I was simply hatched, if not for the existence of my parents and my obnoxious older sister Sophie. That said, I was born first to a mother and a father who both seemed perfectly happy in their marriage. This alone marked us as rather unique in this world of same sex marriages and multiple divorced homes. We lived in a nice house on a nice street. We had a dog, a cat and a fish, and I can say without hesitation that my life was completelytotallyinexplicably boring.
Beyond the mundane grind of a repetitive, average childhood, I have no traumatic stories to tell. No tells about heartbreak or hardships to share, and no stories of abuse to shed in a deep moment of self truth. Truth be told my parents were both of the working class, setting up comfortably on the rim of the upper middle class bracket.
My mother was a elementary music teacher of the most standard type. Driven, overbearing, and powerfully persuasive if she were crossed in the right manner. My father, the contractor, spent hours at a time pushing papers behind a desk nursing his creative muses. By the time I was 8 I already had one foot in the fire with the death if Wiggles, the hamster that was left to run wild in the house. One misplaced skateboard and one misplaced hamster, coupled with one very clumsy 8 year old boy resulted in both disaster and lethal injuries to the smaller, more fuzzy party. Of course I ran like <censored> when I felt the furry lump under my back. Sophie was devastated, and I was too far away to have been able to confess.
By the time 10 rolled around I had been hurled head first at the responsibility of a first job. A paper rout. 6 complaints, 5 mailboxes, 3 windows, 2 dogs, and 1 cat later they accepted this was not to be and moved on with their expectations. My video games were not as challenging as they would prefer, but at least it didn't cost them in both cash and embarrassment in the end. It gave me time to be a kid. To bother Sophie and her friends in a tree house I wasn't allowed to enter. This just made things worse, and gave me insinuative to sit outside and hurl rocks and particularly witty (for a 10 year old) insults at them. Mom didn't seem to mind. Dad was less than thrilled at my ever expanding vocabulary. TV was blamed. I was grounded. I found new pastimes to amuse myself with. Sophie was relieved of my presences for a week.
At 11 moms 'nest phase' hit in full swing for the first time. Her love for music is, I suppose on some maternal level, something to be passed on to ones offspring. Thank the gods she recognized in the first week that like math, I would never -ever- be a concert musician, and I was once again allowed back to my skateboard and video games. Sophie wasn't so lucky.
At 13 we moved to the city. To LA no doubt, which was in my sisters eyes one of the biggest tragedies of her life. For me, it was and wasn't an awesome idea. I would be ripped from my comfort zone, but the idea of a fresh start was, at least to me, a pretty awesome way to go. It'd be healthy for my parents and I, and healthy for Sophie who, in my humble opinion, was becoming a bit of a drama queen. We moved, we grew up, we grew out, and we found life outside a small town can be just as fun with much more potential for disaster.
By 14 I had my first run in with cops. Mind you, it wasn't my party and it most defiantly wasn't my pot, but one arrest report, phone call to my parents, and court trial later I was not exactly the shining prodigy son that I was perhaps expected to be. I wasn't even the completely normal teenage boy that was expected of me. For a year I would live under the scrutinizing eye of my mother, and bear with the head shaking disapproval of my father. Thankfully a therapist convinced them that I was ADHD and that it was in fact not my fault. I can't say that I don't agree with him. To disagree would be admitting I was wrong, and I was -15- before I ever smoked pot thanks.
Finally at 15, with our supposed 'better life' in shambles of the world it was meant to be, mom and dad expressed their disinterest with LA and moved the family back to Seaside.
Once we were settled in our new home in our old town, I found a nice part time job at a local shop where I learned mechanics. At least, I pretended to. It was a challenge, and it was one that for once I embraced and ran head first to perfect. As the summer ended and with my earnings in tow I began the long process of begging my parents (loudly) that I be A) allowed to finally take my driver's test, B) that I -was- mature and responsible enough to pay attention behind the wheel, and C) that I should be allowed to own a car. For the first time Dad -did- have to come to my aid, but I eventually convinced the queen bee and took my test…three times. The third time I passed by 1.34 points. I got my car. And I got 5 speeding tickets before the first year was up. I also learned that my delinquent skills were better put to use with a car. I began my own personal little ‘business’, which kept me busy, helped me make contacts in the Fens, and allowed me a bit of leeway in the financial areas of my life. Now 17 life is..about the same. I continue to disrupt sweet suburbia life. Sophie continues to explore avenues of life I try my best to not be involved with, and mom continues to rule the house with an iron first. I've even learned bouts of self-control. I attend public school with Sophie we remains abstract from one another’s lives. I don't date, while she does. And for the first time things seem calm and smooth.
uninterested
1 mild - 5 interest
