Ramblings of a WEIRDO.

Breathe Deep.

Hmm.. Where to start? How about starting with the good stuff? Soo.. Pretty much, every day since Saturday, Can and I have been hanging out together. We joke, we eat, we watch movies, we help each other with homework, we go to soccer games, we go to the store, we.. we pretty much do everything brothers do. He is becoming more and more like a brother to me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to hang out with someone. It’s rather interesting. We’ve even started teaching each other our languages. Soon enough, I’ll be speaking Deutsch. And he, Spanish.

He is hilarious. I’m never bored when I hang out with the guy. He even goes as far as pretending to not know any English and we both “try to communicate.” Funnest thing ever. He blames me, of course, afterward, saying that it’s my fault that he starts to mix German words in with his English. No matter. He gets as much fun out of it as I do. (:

He’s one of the only people who would be willing to help me out by helping type my APES outline. And after having typed more than half, he still apologizes for not being able to type even more. It’s things like that that make me glad that we got past our differences. Tomorrow—or later on today, rather—we will be hanging out at his house for the seventh day in a row. More movies, more ice cream, and we’re gonna call the German Consulate in SF to see EXACTLY what he needs to do to stay.

We plan on becoming roommates in SoCal. I really hope he doesn’t leave in July. ):

To add on to the distress caused by this, I’m freaking out because of the end of the semester. I have all this pressure on me. This facade that I’ve put on has caught up with me. Everyone is pushing me with expectations. I am constantly asked about college applications. Frankly, Unless I fins a cheap state school out there, I’m just gonna to community college for two years. There simply isn’t enough money right now.

I’ve been slacking in everything. My mind just seems to be cluttered and that reflects on everything that I do. My backpack is a mess, my locker is a mess, my house is a mess.. I really need to tidy up. My disorganization is so bad, I miss point for not turning in an assignment I DID. It shows on my grades. Hell, it shows in the college application process. I’ve applied to no schools. And I feel like crap for it. I always shy away when someone is talking about college. The applications. The Acceptance letters.

I beat myself up internally for it. I blame myself. I’ve recognized it as self-destructive behavior, but I fail to find a way to do anything about it. I have no initiative. I can’t seem to pay attention in my classes… What is wrong with me?

I failed two classes last year in the second semester. I don’t wanna repeat this.

I am horrified of my grades. There is no more “There’s always next year to fix my grades.” This is it. Time is running out. Granted, this is the first semester and I can do make-up work, working with my teachers to change my grades. My grades are not set in stone.

Second semester. For sure. Can’s gonna have to be my nag buddy. “Make sure you get this done.” “Have you done this?” Especially with him trying to switch into two of my classes. That and he’s gonna come into my family plan and, with his phone, he’ll be able to nag me all the more. WHILE teaching me German. (x

What gets me, though, is all the crap I get at home from my family. Everything I do is wrong. I’ve tried to reconnect with them, but to no avail. A common phrase in my house is “Okay, but when I move and don’t give you the address, I won’t feel guilty.” Thanks, Dad.

The reason for me writing this, though, is this crap. I get up from the computer to get some water. I’m in the kitchen and he comes in and sets down a box of Almond Roca while saying “Don’t eat them all. Leave some for your brother.” This may seemingly not have that much of an effect on many people. But it did on me.

The main reason I didn’t get along with my step mom is the fact that she loved saying things about me. “Your son eats everything in sight,” I overheard her telling my dad. That and I was “lazy, disrespectful, selfish,” and a bunch of other crap. That eating thing, though. I’ve always been sensitive about my weight. My grandma’s outspoken about it. “Your son is so fat, make him do some exercise or something!” Her nickname for my was “Gordito.” That means “fat kid.”

My sister called me “fatass.” And the comments go on and on. People just seem to have a knack for pointing out my flaws. This is, probably, what I can attribute my self-consciousness and low self esteem to.

To add insult to injury, it was this same week during which I came home after having spent the day with Can. I sit down and there are donuts! I look through it and find a chocolate donut. Half a chocolate donut. I ate that. HALF. I left the box open in front of me and, right away, my brother comes in and, “HOW MANY HAVE YOU EATEN?!?!”

“Half, Alex. Just half of one donut. Is that okay? Or is that too much?”

“No. I was just asking.”

“No you weren’t. Whatever.”

Not only that, but there are numerous instances during which he accuses me of having eaten something. Not even ASKING, “WHY DID YOU EAT THIS?!”

“I didn’t.”

“Suuuure, you didn’t.”

With this coming from my own family, my own flesh and blood, I can’t expect much more from strangers.

And it’s not just weight. My dad will often reference my lip by calling me “Lippy” of “Purple.” He makes fun of my having fallen down a flight of stairs in my baby-walker when I was little. “He tripped over his lip!” “No, he was on the edge and the weight of his lip threw him off!”

I’m done with this.

I vow to never eat a bite of food from my own home unless I’m absolutely on the brink of starvation or I buy it myself. Also, It is I that won’t regret losing contact with my dad after I move to SoCal and travel with my best friend, sending only the occasional postcard.

Whatever. I’m done with all this.