That's my real name, though as you can imagine the Freaking is just in there for fun, because I'm John Freaking-Steele, and I do what ever I want, like bake muffins at 1 am and stuff.
I came back to Westfield for the weekend, as I plan to every weekend, and it's super boring today.
My throat has been bugging me most of the week, and I say it's my fault for stretching my vocal range up to tenor over the last week while still singing bass. It's turned me into the 13 year old with his voice cracking all the time that I never had to go through. I was lucky, my voice like never cracked when I spoke during puberty, not that I'm likely out of it though. Most guys are done around 19 1/2 or 20, and as late as 23. I know kind of random things.
But my throat was really terrible this morning, I could barely talk. It's mostly better now, but I'm taking some cough drops to help. All I have are Halls, and they work, but not like Ricola. Ricola might as well be candy, but it's not, because then I couldn't have them. See how bad I am at staying on topic? Holy cow. Well now I think I could have been almost sick, because I came home and Julie looks like death, and even Kroger sent her home from work. Then I went over to Lauren's last night, and she wasn't feeling well but I didn't mind and hung out anyway. So I'm faced with the fact that I might be sick? I don't feel sick, just like I slept with a window open and my throat got irritated. I take vitamins because I know I'm not getting everything, I get lots of Vitamin C from all the fruit I eat, and I sleep more then like every college student that I know. So I doubt I'm in a situation to get sick.
I thought I was going to end up writing a much more personal ENR than I am, I'm not sure what happened to the train of thought I had earlier. It was actually a pretty depressing train of thought about how much of my life has totally sucked, and I was wondering how I ended up being such a cheerful and optimistic person.
Like I really never had a childhood after 3rd grade. We moved back to Arizona during the summer, and I started 4th grade there and made no friends. Exactly 90 days later we moved to Indiana, where I made a few friends, but never did anything fun. And then it wasn't too long before my mom had the brain tumor and she was in the hospital for a good 2-3 months I think. And when she got back for like another year or so it was all about taking care of her.
My dad was at work all the time, so that left Julie and I home alone sometimes all day. He'd be home in the mornings just long enough to wake us up, then he would leave. We rode the bus to and from school. Got home to an empty house and it usually stayed empty until like 8, and when you go to bed at like 9, that's not much.
My mom got stable and then my dad got diagnosed with his fat people diabetes because he was eating even more shit than normal. So then basically all food became "diabetic-friendly". Not cool with a chubby 4th grader. If we had snack food, we had to hide it because my dad would just sit and eat it all. I remember one bag of cheetos in particular that I hid and he found. He basically ate the entire bag in like 3 minutes. His justification was that he only took "one handful". Well I certainly didn't get my hands from his side, because he's got massive hands, and you can grab about 8 servings of cheetos in a good handful. Ever since then I'm never surprised when I go into the garage and find candy wrappers stuffed in his work bench, or empty cans of frosting in the trash can in the computer room. There's a way to be diabetic and eat crappy food.
I forgot to mention all the times he would get a gym membership to help with the diabetes. He would go like twice a week, and ride a bike super slowly and somehow still get drenched in sweat. It was pretty pathetic.
Things seemed to get better in 5th grade when we moved into my the new house, and then Julie had a seizure and was diagnosed with epilepsy. For the next 5 years my parents pretty much set me aside and put all the attention on Julie, trying to get her situation under control. It really wasn't until my sophomore year that I felt like my parents noticed me again.
Yeah, they loved me and stuff and went to my band concerts, helped with homework every now and again, took me to baseball practice, and went to most of my games. But it wasn't anywhere close to the attention that they gave to Julie, and she wasn't even good at anything.
So pretty much I've raised myself since like 4th grade, and I feel like I did a pretty damn good job. I determined what was moral and unmoral, who I should look up to, when I should get to bed, I got myself up in the morning and got ready to get on the bus, and I made most of my own meals, granted they were a lot of cereal, eggs, and noodles. And somehow I even figured out how to be a really supportive person and learned how to be there for the important people in my life.
I know I'm a kid on the inside, and I like doing childish things. I hope I never grow out of it, because I never really got to grow into it.
That was close to what I thought I would say, or thought I would say. And it's almost a bit much to just put out there, despite that maybe 3 people will ever see it. Most of my friends don't really know any of that about me, and I rarely ever bring it up. Some people think they've had a tough time growing up because their parents would ground them, wouldn't let them have friends over, or wouldn't buy them the video games they wanted. Well those people don't know tough.
But as lovely as revealing all these raw things has been, I think I'm done playing shrink for the night.
-Cheers.
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