Dream Squishing

The consequences of my severe ADHD were shared amongst my family members, teachers, and house hold help. My mom I could say had it the worst during those years. My brother though, also had his fair share. My brother is two and a half years younger. He was about two or three when all of this started.

My brother, as any younger sibling would do, loved to follow me around everywhere. When my friends would come over to play he would always try to include himself in the best ways he knew. My friends and I would usually play house, torture Groucho Marks (my Cocker spaniel), and when we were feeling especially happy mutilate and Mohawk my Barbie’s. I still sit around with Olivia and Valentina laughing about all the roles my brother used to play in “house”. He would ask “Sophia what can I be?” “You can be the wind Tito.” “What does the wind do?” “Stand in the corner and blow” “Ok!”He was always an object. He was a couple suns, tables, chairs, trees, and one time even a boat.

Due to his innocence he was indeed very gullible, “Tito if you don’t give me all of your Halloween chocolate I won’t ever take you to the secret place!” The secret place was a place I invented that I said had everything he ever wanted. He was a chubby kid so ill leave his ideal secret place up to imagination. Usually I would bribe him, tell him to do stuff in order to get the top secret password into the top secret, secret place. After a while this got a little old. So one day I made him get into a laundry basket and lock himself in the closet which was supposedly the entrance to the secret place. Since then, after being a few hours more than he expected in the entrance, he stopped believing. I may have squished a few dreams there. 

Happy Easter

Yesterday was Easter Sunday, a holiday full of joy for our savior rising and bringing new life. It was supposed to be a traditional happy family holiday. Well you know those family holidays that just go horribly wrong, in fact the opposite of how we plan them? Well in my family this happens just about every holiday. It all started with the traditional catholic morning church service. My mom prohibited my dad from wearing blue jeans. Big mistake, as we now learned this was the cause of multiple bad moods throughout the day. Following, came the fact that there were no donuts were they should be after church. Instead there was an Easter egg hunt outside strictly for kids under the age of twelve. This was strike two. So we took a trip to Baskin Robbins and Dunkin Donuts. There were a couple more fights during the five minute car ride. So far Easter was a great success.

We usually celebrate Easter with family friends whom I like to call the ideal perfect family. It’s amazing they never fight, never raise a finger or a voice. They look like they’ve popped out of a J Crew catalogue. Easter for them requires matching cashmere for the men and Mary Ashley outfits for the girls. They take their family photo, later to be photo shopped onto their spring cards that they send out to everyone. Well in my mother’s mind this was the ideal Easter. Imagine her surprise when her daughter couldn’t even where a dress due to crutches and a severe sun burn, her son couldn’t care less about matching his own outfit, and her husband was mad about not being able to wear blue jeans to church. In fact the only one who was matching in her ideal family picture she had built up in her mind, was herself. She merely had to mind photo shop us in her picture to have matching outfits.  

So as the day continued it only got better. We went out for lunch to an Italian restraint with some of my dad’s friends from the bank that we have known ever since I was about five. The perfect family had gone to Las Vegas for the week. Does anyone else see the irony in this? Well of course bank friend’s means bank talk. My mom dislikes bank talk intensely. We went from talking about one Argentinean to another, from bank loans, to jackpot destinations for bank jobs. They talked for three hours straight about strictly bank. This clearly did not fit into my mom’s ideal Easter Sunday.

So after tears and fighting my mom finally gathered everyone to dinner. Nobody talked for about five minutes. My mom had made a soup that tasted of pure wine. She sometimes doesn’t quite measure the amount of alcohol she puts into her dishes. So everyone ate silently trying to bear the winey soup until my dad realized if he didn’t fix things he might end up in the dog house so he began, “The thing is it’s your mother…” (bad start). “Do not start with my mother!” said my mom. “See she created these high expectations for everybody about Easter... she wears these flowery dresses…”. Pretty soon the whole table was laughing about the Easter fail. Then my brother starts complaining about the soup, which gets my mom in a worse mood. My dad again tries to fix this to save himself from the dog house, “Eat your Easter soup men!” he says. I don’t know how this ended up the way it did, but the nice Easter dinner ended in my dad and brother trying to “titty twister” each other. Happy Easter everyone. 

Sants Deambrosi

This post is dedicated to Santiago Deambrosi. I think he is emotionally hurt. He doesn’t let anyone hug or kiss him. He thinks I have cooties. He writes about every time I hug him on his writing blog as a sexual harassment. At a party last weekend I couldn’t help but make suggestive gestures towards him when “amigos especiales” (friends with benefits) came on. He looked at me the same way my mom did when I told her the trees were talking to me. So now I have no other choice but to jump hug him every time I see him. Also on smack an ass day I think he was trying to avoid me but I caught him coming out of Mr.Tangens class. He has taken multiple pictures of me sexually harassing him and threatens to put them on his blog. I try to explain to him that it is not sexual harassment it is only short circuiting burst of emotion towards an emotionally detached being. Also Santiago denied his relationship a few months ago. So we intended to fix this by putting it in our statuses on face book. This aggravated him. He forced me to take down my status and put up an apology one. These are all genuine effects of an emotionally detached teen. If you want to find a way to help Santiago, we will be giving one hug to him for every person who views or comments on this blog. His progress will be evaluated through out the course of my life on time out.

New update: Today I declared Santiago and I in a full open relationship. Apparently he didn’t agree with this, but deep down he wants me. I know it. The decision had to take place by the dominant one in this relationship (me). He tried to deny it, so I posted it as my face book status. We are working on our public display of affection. He isn’t very affectionate. Some part of me is telling me he just doesn’t want this relationship.

Sants Blog

Exotic Bugs

So today I’m in what they call “tierra caliente” or hot land in English. I dislike hot land intensely. It is basically hot stuffy jungle with bugs. My mom loves it so when we have Mondays off we go to a place called Villeta. It’s hot, humid, stuffy, hot, and full of exotic bugs. It would be ok if it had a beach, but it doesn’t. It has a pool that doesn’t do much for me since I have a wonderfully disgusting cast on. Everybody is having fun in the pool except me. I am sitting on a chair, leg up, in extremely hot weather writing to you, whoever may be reading this. Last night one of the exotic bugs my mom finds so fascinating crawled into my cast. Art is the only way I could describe how I got it out. Also to top it off a flying cockroach flew into my room. I hate cockroaches. They are basically my only phobia besides ball sports and schizophrenic four year olds. So I screamed until someone helped me get my flying cockroach off the lamp. So as you can probably see for now this is not my most amusing weekend. Readers I know you are probably thinking I’m a sissy, but you don’t understand. These exotic bugs are triple the size of ordinary bugs. This is a land where mosquito’s are the size of helicopters. Spiders are the size of my car. Cockroaches can fly. Ok maybe I’m exaggerating a bit but that cockroach did fly, and the bugs triple their size. If I see another exotic wasp I think I might die. The point is I dislike Villeta and any tierra caliente. I could never live here, I think I would melt by the second week. Well anyway I think I better stop complaining now before karma sends another exotic bug into my cast. 

Flowers

When I was around six I got a bunny rabbit named Flowers. I loved Flowers. I protected her against our dog Groucho Marx. And I always let her wear the prettiest doll dresses when we mutilated my doll collection. But one day Christina came over. We were playing with Flowers when we got the wonderful idea of making her fur softer with Johnson and Johnson baby oil. So we gave her a bath in oil and dressed her in the prettiest doll outfit we could find. Little did we know Flowers was having death wishes’ during her spa day.  Right when she was at her most critical dress up moment mom walked in to save the day. Flowers was being pulled in between Christina and I, “My bunny” “No! My bunny!” “Mine!” “Let go! She’s my bunny!” we said.  Another pale expression wiped across Barbara’s face as she leapt in an attempt to rescue Flowers. My mom spent the rest of the day washing Flowers and blow drying her, now very soft, fur. Flowers was stiff rock hard the next morning, looks like she got her wish after all.

Luz Marina

My housekeeper Luz Marina is insane! No this is not an exaggeration, actually it is a de-exaggeration if that is even a word. She is nuts. It all started about 8 years ago, according to my other house keeper, Carmen. Apparently she and my driver had a “thing”. It is even scary to imagine. Well they lived together for a while. Luz Marina grew madly insane when they broke up. The consequences came to my rug years later. So the other day I found her crying sweeping my rug with all her might while “pound dusting” my night table. “Luz Marina…” I said, trying to calm her down. “Edilberto never gave me kids!” She said half screaming half crying. O God please help me, was my only thought. I believe she is beginning menopause and this is some kind of creepy reaction. After many of these incidents and encounters where I felt obligated to save my rug I decided to talk to Carmen. This is when I found out more details and the history of all of this. Well apparently Luz Marina has a letter at her shrink’s saying that if she kills herself it is Edilberto’s fault. Even my dad says she reminds him of the chef with the creepy smile from Three’s Company. She reminds me a little more of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. I could write a whole blog just on her day to day insanity. One time I woke up with her face in my face on Saturday morning when she found it extremely necessary to clean my room at 7am. “A su merce que se me le ofrece?” (Do you need anything?). In my head I was thinking, I need you not to disturb my beauty sleep, but instead I decided to just give my best angry disturbed look and not speak a word. I think she got the message. Now she only disturbs me when I’m half asleep or perfectly PMSing.  I do have to love her though, if not who would give me all these stories to tell? (Other than my whole life on time out).

Physical Education: I Don't Think There Could Be A More Specific Title

So today I am taking another break from my childhood to leave suspense for the next story. So there’s good news and bad news. Actually there’s only bad news (for me). The people who take apart my crutches and hide them were actually quite pleased. So when I went to get my cast off on Monday the doctor came in with a huge “your screwed” smile. She said “you better get used to those crutches honey because you will be on them for another month.” FML. It’s not really the crutches that bother me. What bothers me is having to tour the campus (uphill) 5 billion times a day. I swear there are over 1000 stairs on this campus.

 This is all due to one thing, the thing that is “crucial” to the development of a low self esteemed being, PE. Why is it even necessary?! It is an embarrassment to everyone who is not precisely selected varsity. It does no one any good. Also, when was the last time anyone ever saw a PE teacher run? Or play any of the “ball” sports were forced to play. Well, ok I guess I’m being a little unfair, it is a little relieving to go from math to PE (now my free period). Frankly I don’t know which is worse. I’ve always hated those ball sports. The balls always manage to hit me right smack in the face or hard on the head. They never fail, it’s the only connection between me and ball aim. Volley ball is by far the worst though. The balls are meant to come right at your face. Then there’s basketball. My dribble starts big and confident and pretty soon it gets lower and lower until it comes to a stop. Everybody manages to get this simple skill except me. Soccer, it’s pretty self explanatory why I dislike it, my foot throbs as I write this. Lastly, there’s baseball. Even when I’m sitting down waiting for my turn I have this image of the batter swinging and the bat coming right smack into my face. I don’t know what it is about PE sports; all I know is that I just can’t do them.

I guess I better stop nagging on PE before I get inspired (I promise you will hear it all eventually throughout this blog). There is one more thing I need to get out before I end this blogging session. Computers! I’m actually writing this in computers. Computers is an elective we did not elect. It is obligatory. Probably the second worst class next to PE. It is extremely boring. All we do is repeat the same excel function for different made up projects. Now the even better part to this class is probably the teacher. Guzman Julio. Yes his name I actually Guzman Julio not Julio Guzman. He’s got one of those tones of voice that just make you want to shoot yourself in the head. Also Guzman has a super stalker program that lets him see our computer screens from his computer. He even sees our computers when he is sick at home. Doesn’t he have anything better to do on his sick day than stalk our computer screens? Well a couple days ago he was sick. I realized he was stalking my computer screen because when I opened Facebook through a long process of downloading Google Chrome and then getting on V-Tunnel, he closed it. Who ever invented this stalker program is not cool. Do you know how frustrating it is when your mouse gains super powers and presses the X on your Facebook when you are trying to see your notifications?