Kinda-Comedian.

A Brief Overview part 2.

        Around this same time my mother was marrying my step-dad, who I was still unsure about. At this time, we left our small condo in "Bare-able town" and moved into "Red-Neckville, U.S.A". The house was much bigger and nicer, and we still renovate things, but the people in this town are morons. My first year of kindergarten was a bust. I tested extremely high in all subjects, extremely smart and all that, but  Goddamn it, I could not make friends for the life of me. I spelled out my name in pennies in the corner and read books at a 4th grade level. I hung out with my teacher, and other teachers, more than any of the other kids, which was fine with me. 5 year old me would much have prefered discussing about the flaws in the Bush administration with college educated adults than playing Barbies with the booger-eaters. 1st grade was an improvment, after making my very 1st friend, who we'll call "Matt." Matt really irritated me because he had a speech impediment, and I was a terrible little girl who hated sunshine and kittens. But the pickings were slim for friends in Red-Neckville, so I became his friend, but oh no, my hippie vegan feminist teacher had a problem with boys and girls being friends (I mean what the hell, we were 6.) So she told my mom and step-dad about this. Neither one cared, and they were just happy I had any friends at all. And judging my the fact that Matt painted his nails pink and wore clothes advertising *NSYNC, I doubt they were concerned about him becoming a heart-breaker. Later that year, my baby sister, "Lucy" was born, and I couldn't have been happier! Matt continued to be my best friend, and although I gained a couple here and there, one of which made a fake universe with me in which we were vampires and werewolves (I'm telling you, friggin Stephanie Meyer stole those ideas from us.) Matt moved at the end of 4th grade, and I was miserable. No other stable friendships, my elementary schooling almost done, I was a mess. And the summer between 4th and 5th grade was the worst.

        After calling Melanie's daughters "stupid bitches", they took a break. Without extra financial support from her, we had to move out of our already crappy accomedations. We moved to a one bedroom apartment, that was really just part of a large-ish house we shared with 3 other families, all of which spoke Spanish, so my skills improved on that front. It was in the ghetto-iest part of the ghetto. My father's drinking reached an all-time high, and he had to take a bit of time away from work, so money was extremely tight, forcing me to live on only pure sugar for 4 days straight. My neighbors also had a neglected pitbull, whom I named Forrest and took care of. Food I got, about 40% went to him. And of course that was the year glorious mother nature bestowed upon me the gift of womanhood. Thanks, bitch. I was so embarassed by it, I hid it. For 14 months. Toilet paper panty liners. What a party, am I right? So that whole experience sucked some major ass. But then, it improved infinitely.

        I went into middle school completely insecure and depressed. I didn't have loads of self-esteem after summer, but then I ran for student counsel, knowing I wouldn't win, due to my severe lack of friends. Then, a lovely new student, who we'll call "Jackie" walked into my life. She had just moved from Japan and was half of Japanese decent and half of German decent. And that girl was just as sarcastic, intelligent, and full of innappropriate humor as I was. And thus a friendship was born.

        I think Jackie is exactly who I needed just when I needed her most.Her ability to not coddle me or sugarcoat life, but to glaze over issues with humor was what I needed. Those "tweens" are so melodramatic all the time, most would love to let you wallow in your self pity, then start to drown it in themselves, which is the main reason I didn't have many other real friends. Eventually Jackie convinced me to tell my mom about having a period, although to this day she doens't know I hid it from her, but that's okay. Water under the bridge. In 6th grade I had this *wonderful* (note the sarcasm) to run away from home to Vegas. I live in Michigan. Totally gonna work. I still had a lot of emotional baggage to sort through and I just wanted to aviod it all. After an intervention with my mom, I got my shit together, at least in outward apperances. Dad and Melanie made up, and we moved in with her. That was a seperate battle, considering I felt like I could never rock the boat in fear of being thrown back out to the ghetto. With the serious absence of troubles, I started making my own. And that's where 7th grade, and the worst year of my life (trying to use as little drama as possible here, I swear to God.) began.