i'm lost in translation

The Back Story

The sun has been peeking out a lot more these days - so I think that the Seasonal Affective Disorder is breaking up a little. I used to laugh at things like Seasonal Disorders - but this winter has been so brutal - I am beginning to understand. My boyfriend and I have spent way too many days sitting on the couch, watching various VH1 shows, feeling isolated from the world and sipping hot cocoa to make us feel better.

Anyway - I must continue with my saga.

I think I have to explain a couple of details I may have left out. They are vital and I've left them out of the stories so far and I really have no idea why but here we go.....

When I was five years old, my parents had all ready been separated for a year. Their divorce was final and my mother had been awarded custody. But for some reason they decided to let me choose who to go with. I wanted to go with my mother - in my five year old mind it made the most sense. My mother came down to Florida, where I had been living with my dad until she set up a stable business and apartment in New York, and started to take from the house what was hers. I'm sure my dad got it into his mind that he could do a better job with me and asked me a question "Do you want to go to New York with your mother or go with me to Pittsburgh and see your [paternal] Grandma and Grandpa?". He also mentioned one or two times how scary and crime ridden New York was until I became terrified of the mere mention of New York. I was afraid to say no to my dad - so I said I'd go with him. There is a picture of me leaving that day that my mother took. I remember that my mother refused to speak to me when I left with my father. We drove in a U-haul from Orlando, Florida to Pittsburgh, Pennslvania. It was a hellish trip. My dad listened to country music the whole way and I think that is where I aquired my dislike for that particular genre of music. I spent the next year with my dad in Pittsburgh while he tried to earn a living there. I actually spent most of my time there with Poopsie, what everyone called my Grandmother, who took care of me most of the time while my dad worked. I spent all week with her and weekends with my dad. I actually still don't understand the point of the whole arrangement. My cousin, Greg, also was cared for by my grandmother and spent a lot of time with me. At first I was thrilled to have someone to play with - but Greg was just a jerk. I was an only child until then suddenly I had an insta-brother. And he wasn't nice either. He bullied me around and picked on me. Mostly because he was picked on so much at school that I'm sure he needed it to trickle down to someone. My most vivid memory of him was that he cheered and whooped around the house when Reagan was shot - I cried because I thought it was terrible that he was happy that someone was hurt. He looked me straight in the eye and said "He's the guy taking away our school lunch". He was a friggin' eighth grader. After a year with dad, he decided that he just couldn't afford to keep me and gave me back to my mother.

When I came to live in New York, my mother, aunt and grandmother were living in a one bedroom, basement apartment in Woodside, Queens. I remember that it was the first winter I had seen snow. I was really excited until I actually went out and played in it. I had the impression that snow was like cotton in texture. I was over snow the first time I experienced it.

posted by Jin @ 8:53 PM