City of Funk
Just got back from watching City of God. All I can say is wow. It was an excellent movie, very intense. I don't particularly feel like talking about it, so just go watch it.
Anyhow, about the Rebecca thing..it's a long, complex, and ultimately tragic story. I'm not sure enough people care for it to be worth putting the effort and reliving the trauma in writing that would come from telling said story. But if you want to hear it, it shall be told. But not tonight. I suppose I could start it though. The beginning is pretty pain-free.
,About two or three years ago, my father was nearing the end of his relationship with his then-wife, Linda. By ending I mean that as soon as he spent all her money, he started cheating on her so that she would want a divorce. I didn't realize this at the time. I was so naive. He took me and my two brothers to meet a co-worker (now his wife of...8 KIDS) and see a movie. The movie was Hannibal. The co-worker (whom I will now refer to by name: Kathlene), brought along her three daughters: Rachel, who was seven, Ronda, who was eleven, and Rebecca, who was sixteen. I was attracted instantly. What can I say? She was hot. My two brothers thought so too. My older brother Roman (about two months older than myself) instantly tried to put the moves on her. I didn't bother. At this point I was a meek individual who didn't bother trying to get into something I couldn't win. I wrote her off as a moron to make myself feel better. So the usual small talk commences whilst we decide which movies we are going to. I know I said the movie was Hannibal, but the little ones, the father, and Kathlene weren't interested in seeing that. That left me, my bros, and Rebecca, who was talking very little as I recall. In fact, she said hardly a word until we took our seats. At this point it was like a switch flipped. Since I wasn't taking her bait, she started really talking to Roman. Travis(the younger bro, at least 3 years younger than I) was oblivious, in his own little world. She mentioned that she was debating with her mother over the ethicality of cloning, since she read a fascinating article in the newspaper. This made me do an internal 'WTF doubletake'. Instantly the ball was out of Roman's court (who is smart, but not really intellectual) and straight into my hands. I was just getting into talking with her when Hannibal started. The movie sucked. A few hours later found myself and the families outside parting ways. Rebecca said goodbye to everyone in general, and then to me specifically. I was in the 'I'm such a badass' mood for the rest of the hour. Another few months passed before I saw her again.
The next time I would see her would be at Kathlene's house, where my dad was now living. Linda had given him the boot, but not the divorce. She still wasn't ready to let go of him. I didn't and don't know why. I recall being in Kath's backyard watching Travis pogostick when she came home. She looked different. So different in fact that I didn't recognize her until later that night. Her hair was red. She talked to me as if she knew me, which made me even more bewildered. Plus, the sun was in my eyes and I couldn't see too well. We made the usual small talk that people who aren't really friends or anything do. I finally remembered who she was, and we talked. A lot. We talked so much over the next few ensuing months that I told her stuff that I hadn't told anyone (let alone a girl) before. I told her about a girl I had a crush on, whose name was Danielle. We talked until 4, usually. Over time, I realized that, with exception to Rebecca, my talking to female skills were nonexistant. When I talked to Danielle in Science class I felt like a fool (or a creepy bastard, it usually went hand in hand). This was back when I mumbled constantly, so when I thought she wasn't responding because she was ignoring me it was actually because she couldn't hear me. I dunno, I just got....dry throated in her presence. I knew her vaguely from 8th grade, though to this day I'm not sure how. But this story is about Rebecca. Anyhow, we grew closer in the weeks following that particular confession.
Then, something rather brutal happened. My father, who did not get along with Rebecca in any way, shape, or form, told Kathlene that either he or Rebecca had to go. Literally. He actually told her that if she didn't force her daughter to move, he would leave. Being full of the sense she is, Kathlene immeadiately booted Rebecca out of the house in fear. Idiot. This confined my relationship with Rebecca seriously. She stayed with her godmother, who thought I was a pimp or drugdealer, since she never let me talk to her. I got to talk to her maybe three times in that whole painful ordeal, and all three times were jam loaded with horror stories. She had already told me some very personal things about her life at Kathlene's; stories that need not be repeated, since I'm sworn to secrecy (and unlike some I keep my word on that). The things she told me about what happened over there was appauling. Her godmother routinely assaulted her with words and threats, and the godmother's son was an apparent devil. Not only could he incite something, hit her, and taunt the shit out of her, but he could get away with it since the godmother didn't think him capable of doing wrong. It sounded like a living Hell, and I sympathized greatly. My father isn't exactly a role model.
She came back a few months ago. By 'coming back' I mean that the godmother broke into Kathlene's new house, threw all of Rebecca's stuff in the living room (along with Rebecca), and left. Of course, now suddenly Kathlene cares for her daughter, saying bullshit phrases like "you don't deserve that" and "I love you". If those statements were true she wouldn't have been exported in the first place. Anyhow, something changed I guess. I had long given up on Danielle; I didn't have any classes with her, I couldn't approach her....for all intents and purposes I was the same as I was a year and a half before. By this time I was hanging out with the Bleacher Boys a lot more than I had previously. We talked on the phone a few times; even though she was back I was too disgusted to spend more than two days a month at my father's. She just didn't seem..interested or friendly anymore. There was an invisible wall between us; one that I couldn't see. I made the fatal assumption of thinking we were still at the same point we were. I had completely fallen for her. How could I not? This was the only girl I could talk to like she was..one of the guys. That may not seem like much to you, but to me....it was the whole world. I held my feelings back and self debated telling her for quite a while. Finally, I decided to get my thoughts organized by doing what I do best; writing it down. I did; I printed it and brought it out there full of pride and fear, not knowing what was to happen. I told myself a lot of things; I said that it would be paradise, that even if she didn't feel the same way that just her knowing would be fine. I didn't think it would change our relationship that drastically if I was denied. I was wrong. Very wrong. I took the paper out there as I said before. I didn't read it to her right away; she had just come back from working on the set of some musical and was relaxing in my room. Now before I can continue there's a little backstory involving Travis (younger bro) and Ronda (now 12 or 13...who cares). It seems they had a crush of their own, and my dad caught them making out in our room. Travis was treated to a "you're a perv" talk, and Ronda was given the "have you no shame?" berating. I used this past knowledge as a basis to jump into the conversation about me and Rebecca. I asked her what she thought about them. She said the thought of a brother and a sister making out was disgusting. I was a little shaken, but I did expect that one. I said that we weren't really related (dad is only halfway engaged to Kathlene since A: he sucks at committal and B:Linda still hasn't divorced him). Her next line was a definite warning sign that I should have heeded: "Could you really imagine us together? That would be so...wrong." Ouch. I didn't respond to that one. I just kinda sank into the wall. I had never factored disgust as a possible outcome. I finally mumbled, "Stranger things have happened. It wouldn't be that bad." She didn't seem to agree. I went home without reading the note. I also didn't talk to her for another week.
Finally, I told myself that the inner stewing would ultimately only be damaging. I had to know what she thought, no matter what. I couldn't take the damn mind games anymore. So I called her up. I told her that I had something to tell her, but I was afraid to say it. She asked why; I said that if I said it our relationship as it was would be changed, probably forever. Yes, inside I felt that was a little melodramatic; it turned out to be farsighted. She just kept prodding, but I wouldn't tell her. What broke me down into confessing was something that would break any guy; a simple poem. It wasn't a happy poem, however; it was a poem about feeling unloved, and wanting someone to make her feel human again. I ask you again, how could I resist? I read the letter pretty willingly. I told her that I didn't really have a crush on Danielle (which wasn't really true, but I ultimately decided that it would be in my best interests to say so), and that all that time I felt so close to her. I told her that...I'd grown to basically love her, and when she told me all these stories about her moron boyfriend who treated her bad it tore me up inside. I told her that even if she stayed with him until she was old and grey, I would still love her, because love doesn't have an expiration date. I told her that even if she were ugly, it wouldn't mean a damn thing, because looks fade. I told her that she didn't have to love me back, because love isn't selfish like that. I told her that I would be there when she didn't think she could go on, that I would be there for her no matter what. All of this flowed forth from me; most of it I didn't even write down (hence the reason some of the Bleacher Boys are probably scratching their heads[they read the actual letter, mind you]). It came from the heart, and I meant every word. What followed on the other end shattered my world. First there was silence. A very long silence. I plunged into black. I told my friends a portion of this story the very next day with a smile; a shallow one. It was so painful I couldn't even feel. I was so....unwanted. I couldn't cry; I was too sad. I couldn't laugh; there was too much pain. I couldn't kill myself; I was afraid of death. I couldn't fix the hole from which I was bleeding from; I didn't know how. So the days past, and my life turned grey. It was just a linear string of events. All meaningless. I was for all intents and purposes dead. But no one could tell, because I am a very good liar. My grades decayed into D's and F's; my parents told me that if I didn't get my act together I'd go to continuation school. I didn't care. I listened to Not Even The Trees by Hootie and the Blowfish(a song questioning God for taking Hooteh's girlfriend away from him [via death, obviously]). Repeatedly. There was a sleepover at Travis' (my friend, not my brother). It was the first fun day I had had in God knows how long. We made jokes about a certain someone's dad dying (because we're assholes). The next morning my mom wanted me home. I did a little math in my head:
Eternity at my house = Unending misery
One night with my friends at Travis's house = first time I had really smiled in a long time.
So of course when I was invited to Denny's the following morning I tried my best to get there with parental approval. Now, this is where my emotion may have cost me big time: my mom in my ears said, "I don't care what you do. You're responsible for yourself." My mom in HER ears said, "Come home as soon as possible."
So I spent the next two days at Travis's and Lucio's, respectively. I was healing, damnit.
Since then, I've slowly pushed past the traumatic hole that is...Rebecca. I've let myself move on. I met a girl that I hadn't really known in 2 or 3 years. I may not be going out with anyone, but I'm not killing myself anymore. For the first time in a long time, I feel free. I guess I broke the whole 'I'm not going to tell the story thing'. Once I get started, I have to finish, I guess.
Anyhow, about the Rebecca thing..it's a long, complex, and ultimately tragic story. I'm not sure enough people care for it to be worth putting the effort and reliving the trauma in writing that would come from telling said story. But if you want to hear it, it shall be told. But not tonight. I suppose I could start it though. The beginning is pretty pain-free.
,About two or three years ago, my father was nearing the end of his relationship with his then-wife, Linda. By ending I mean that as soon as he spent all her money, he started cheating on her so that she would want a divorce. I didn't realize this at the time. I was so naive. He took me and my two brothers to meet a co-worker (now his wife of...8 KIDS) and see a movie. The movie was Hannibal. The co-worker (whom I will now refer to by name: Kathlene), brought along her three daughters: Rachel, who was seven, Ronda, who was eleven, and Rebecca, who was sixteen. I was attracted instantly. What can I say? She was hot. My two brothers thought so too. My older brother Roman (about two months older than myself) instantly tried to put the moves on her. I didn't bother. At this point I was a meek individual who didn't bother trying to get into something I couldn't win. I wrote her off as a moron to make myself feel better. So the usual small talk commences whilst we decide which movies we are going to. I know I said the movie was Hannibal, but the little ones, the father, and Kathlene weren't interested in seeing that. That left me, my bros, and Rebecca, who was talking very little as I recall. In fact, she said hardly a word until we took our seats. At this point it was like a switch flipped. Since I wasn't taking her bait, she started really talking to Roman. Travis(the younger bro, at least 3 years younger than I) was oblivious, in his own little world. She mentioned that she was debating with her mother over the ethicality of cloning, since she read a fascinating article in the newspaper. This made me do an internal 'WTF doubletake'. Instantly the ball was out of Roman's court (who is smart, but not really intellectual) and straight into my hands. I was just getting into talking with her when Hannibal started. The movie sucked. A few hours later found myself and the families outside parting ways. Rebecca said goodbye to everyone in general, and then to me specifically. I was in the 'I'm such a badass' mood for the rest of the hour. Another few months passed before I saw her again.
The next time I would see her would be at Kathlene's house, where my dad was now living. Linda had given him the boot, but not the divorce. She still wasn't ready to let go of him. I didn't and don't know why. I recall being in Kath's backyard watching Travis pogostick when she came home. She looked different. So different in fact that I didn't recognize her until later that night. Her hair was red. She talked to me as if she knew me, which made me even more bewildered. Plus, the sun was in my eyes and I couldn't see too well. We made the usual small talk that people who aren't really friends or anything do. I finally remembered who she was, and we talked. A lot. We talked so much over the next few ensuing months that I told her stuff that I hadn't told anyone (let alone a girl) before. I told her about a girl I had a crush on, whose name was Danielle. We talked until 4, usually. Over time, I realized that, with exception to Rebecca, my talking to female skills were nonexistant. When I talked to Danielle in Science class I felt like a fool (or a creepy bastard, it usually went hand in hand). This was back when I mumbled constantly, so when I thought she wasn't responding because she was ignoring me it was actually because she couldn't hear me. I dunno, I just got....dry throated in her presence. I knew her vaguely from 8th grade, though to this day I'm not sure how. But this story is about Rebecca. Anyhow, we grew closer in the weeks following that particular confession.
Then, something rather brutal happened. My father, who did not get along with Rebecca in any way, shape, or form, told Kathlene that either he or Rebecca had to go. Literally. He actually told her that if she didn't force her daughter to move, he would leave. Being full of the sense she is, Kathlene immeadiately booted Rebecca out of the house in fear. Idiot. This confined my relationship with Rebecca seriously. She stayed with her godmother, who thought I was a pimp or drugdealer, since she never let me talk to her. I got to talk to her maybe three times in that whole painful ordeal, and all three times were jam loaded with horror stories. She had already told me some very personal things about her life at Kathlene's; stories that need not be repeated, since I'm sworn to secrecy (and unlike some I keep my word on that). The things she told me about what happened over there was appauling. Her godmother routinely assaulted her with words and threats, and the godmother's son was an apparent devil. Not only could he incite something, hit her, and taunt the shit out of her, but he could get away with it since the godmother didn't think him capable of doing wrong. It sounded like a living Hell, and I sympathized greatly. My father isn't exactly a role model.
She came back a few months ago. By 'coming back' I mean that the godmother broke into Kathlene's new house, threw all of Rebecca's stuff in the living room (along with Rebecca), and left. Of course, now suddenly Kathlene cares for her daughter, saying bullshit phrases like "you don't deserve that" and "I love you". If those statements were true she wouldn't have been exported in the first place. Anyhow, something changed I guess. I had long given up on Danielle; I didn't have any classes with her, I couldn't approach her....for all intents and purposes I was the same as I was a year and a half before. By this time I was hanging out with the Bleacher Boys a lot more than I had previously. We talked on the phone a few times; even though she was back I was too disgusted to spend more than two days a month at my father's. She just didn't seem..interested or friendly anymore. There was an invisible wall between us; one that I couldn't see. I made the fatal assumption of thinking we were still at the same point we were. I had completely fallen for her. How could I not? This was the only girl I could talk to like she was..one of the guys. That may not seem like much to you, but to me....it was the whole world. I held my feelings back and self debated telling her for quite a while. Finally, I decided to get my thoughts organized by doing what I do best; writing it down. I did; I printed it and brought it out there full of pride and fear, not knowing what was to happen. I told myself a lot of things; I said that it would be paradise, that even if she didn't feel the same way that just her knowing would be fine. I didn't think it would change our relationship that drastically if I was denied. I was wrong. Very wrong. I took the paper out there as I said before. I didn't read it to her right away; she had just come back from working on the set of some musical and was relaxing in my room. Now before I can continue there's a little backstory involving Travis (younger bro) and Ronda (now 12 or 13...who cares). It seems they had a crush of their own, and my dad caught them making out in our room. Travis was treated to a "you're a perv" talk, and Ronda was given the "have you no shame?" berating. I used this past knowledge as a basis to jump into the conversation about me and Rebecca. I asked her what she thought about them. She said the thought of a brother and a sister making out was disgusting. I was a little shaken, but I did expect that one. I said that we weren't really related (dad is only halfway engaged to Kathlene since A: he sucks at committal and B:Linda still hasn't divorced him). Her next line was a definite warning sign that I should have heeded: "Could you really imagine us together? That would be so...wrong." Ouch. I didn't respond to that one. I just kinda sank into the wall. I had never factored disgust as a possible outcome. I finally mumbled, "Stranger things have happened. It wouldn't be that bad." She didn't seem to agree. I went home without reading the note. I also didn't talk to her for another week.
Finally, I told myself that the inner stewing would ultimately only be damaging. I had to know what she thought, no matter what. I couldn't take the damn mind games anymore. So I called her up. I told her that I had something to tell her, but I was afraid to say it. She asked why; I said that if I said it our relationship as it was would be changed, probably forever. Yes, inside I felt that was a little melodramatic; it turned out to be farsighted. She just kept prodding, but I wouldn't tell her. What broke me down into confessing was something that would break any guy; a simple poem. It wasn't a happy poem, however; it was a poem about feeling unloved, and wanting someone to make her feel human again. I ask you again, how could I resist? I read the letter pretty willingly. I told her that I didn't really have a crush on Danielle (which wasn't really true, but I ultimately decided that it would be in my best interests to say so), and that all that time I felt so close to her. I told her that...I'd grown to basically love her, and when she told me all these stories about her moron boyfriend who treated her bad it tore me up inside. I told her that even if she stayed with him until she was old and grey, I would still love her, because love doesn't have an expiration date. I told her that even if she were ugly, it wouldn't mean a damn thing, because looks fade. I told her that she didn't have to love me back, because love isn't selfish like that. I told her that I would be there when she didn't think she could go on, that I would be there for her no matter what. All of this flowed forth from me; most of it I didn't even write down (hence the reason some of the Bleacher Boys are probably scratching their heads[they read the actual letter, mind you]). It came from the heart, and I meant every word. What followed on the other end shattered my world. First there was silence. A very long silence. I plunged into black. I told my friends a portion of this story the very next day with a smile; a shallow one. It was so painful I couldn't even feel. I was so....unwanted. I couldn't cry; I was too sad. I couldn't laugh; there was too much pain. I couldn't kill myself; I was afraid of death. I couldn't fix the hole from which I was bleeding from; I didn't know how. So the days past, and my life turned grey. It was just a linear string of events. All meaningless. I was for all intents and purposes dead. But no one could tell, because I am a very good liar. My grades decayed into D's and F's; my parents told me that if I didn't get my act together I'd go to continuation school. I didn't care. I listened to Not Even The Trees by Hootie and the Blowfish(a song questioning God for taking Hooteh's girlfriend away from him [via death, obviously]). Repeatedly. There was a sleepover at Travis' (my friend, not my brother). It was the first fun day I had had in God knows how long. We made jokes about a certain someone's dad dying (because we're assholes). The next morning my mom wanted me home. I did a little math in my head:
Eternity at my house = Unending misery
One night with my friends at Travis's house = first time I had really smiled in a long time.
So of course when I was invited to Denny's the following morning I tried my best to get there with parental approval. Now, this is where my emotion may have cost me big time: my mom in my ears said, "I don't care what you do. You're responsible for yourself." My mom in HER ears said, "Come home as soon as possible."
So I spent the next two days at Travis's and Lucio's, respectively. I was healing, damnit.
Since then, I've slowly pushed past the traumatic hole that is...Rebecca. I've let myself move on. I met a girl that I hadn't really known in 2 or 3 years. I may not be going out with anyone, but I'm not killing myself anymore. For the first time in a long time, I feel free. I guess I broke the whole 'I'm not going to tell the story thing'. Once I get started, I have to finish, I guess.
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