March 4, 2002

 

I talked with my friend Steve for about an hour or more tonight.  He is so complex.  I just can't explain it.  I hardly know him, yet when we talk I feel closer to him than anyone I've ever known.  It is so weird how we have this whole other relationship that is beneath the surface that we never discuss even though we both recognize it.  Oh well.  I told him the whole story about the butterfly bus incident.  He said, "The people who matter don't mind, and the people who mind don't matter."  I found this interesting.  He has a very straightforward outlook on life that is so unique to my own.  I also talked with one of my best friends, Cara, for about four and a half hours today.  We covered it all from movie stars to self-esteem.  She is so important to my life and I don't know what I'm going to do without her when I go home.  I will to miss her so much.  She has helped me to express a person inside that I never knew existed.  I have grown so much as a person just from being around her and it's not fair that I will probably never see her again.  Well, I cried last night.  This place just started getting to me again.  First I found out a girl I like, Mariana (from Argentina), just got a new boyfriend three days ago, so all I can think is Why couldn't I have met her four days ago?  But she told me she was really nervous about her date with him and Cara told me it means that she really likes him.  It also means that I'm out of the picture.  I am forever making the mistake that girls find me a little attractive.  I should know by now that this is not possible, at least not for a girl that I would actually like back.  The only girls that are interested in me are girls with low self-esteem who need a shoulder to cry on... and I am just that shoulder.  "Any girl should feel lucky to go out with you."  How many times have I heard that?  Well, they don't seem to feel so lucky.  I really feel like a burden to my friends.  I'm not looking for sympathy, but a way out.  Cara told me today that when she met me I had already given up on my life.  I know she's right and that is one of the saddest things I've ever had to realize about myself.  What a pathetic person I must appear to be!  It's so odd for me to think how most people see this person who is not me.  I reveal myself to Cara, one of my only truly non-judgmental friends, but to very few others.  She tells it like it is and can joke around at the same time.  To other people I must come off as the jolly fat child who is an excellent listener and great for advice.  These are all women, of course.  I don't relate to other men very well.  They are very closed with their emotions and think about nothing but sex and how they can get it.  It's really very disgusting.  They don't view women as people or as their equals in any way.  Maybe that's why so many women find a friend in me, because I'm technically a man, but I relate to women extremely well.  Maybe I watch too much Oprah.  I'm hoping this operation can change things for me.  I would love to be viewed as physically attractive by anyone.  It is so important at this age, but this age is passing fast.  Even if I had the operation next summer, I wouldn't be a normal weight until I was about twenty-three years old.  I've missed my youth.  It's gone.  I was too busy being old and dealing with adult issues to be young.  I was too busy surviving to enjoy the life I worked so hard to protect and preserve.  I'm only twenty, but I just don't see any hope for the future without this operation.  It truly is a godsend.  I stopped living so long ago, then I had a slight revival a couple of months ago, but now I've fallen back into my old, boring, hopeless self.  But don't worry because I hide it well.  I smile my big smile and the world smiles back, completely secure in my insecurity.  They'll never know the person they have missed for so many years.  I have changed peoples' lives for the better and in very dramatic and important ways, but I've failed to save my own.  Perhaps it's because I've focused for so long on others that I've neglected myself.  But they needed the help more than I did at the time.  But now it's my turn.  I'm the one that needs the help.  I wonder how many of my friends will turn their back on me when they find I've become their equal.  And I will be their equal, eventually.  It's impossible right now because I've created this facade that can't be retracted in my present form.  Why have I let people walk over me for so long?  I've hidden my pain when I couldn't go along with my friends to the new club, or the mountain top, or Spain, or wherever.  I did mind staying behind!  It hurt more than almost anything I've ever experienced, but my smile didn't let me down when I told them that I didn't really want to go anyway.  At least I can hide my emotions behind this honest face, these layers of fat, and this brick wall I've built around my heart.  I know humility.  It has become my shadow.  It is a humbling stalker who never leaves my side.  It harasses me until I think I can take no more, but then I show it up, swallow what little bit of pride may remain in this pathetic existence, and crawl before every one for all the world to see as they try not to let me see them sneaking a peek at the obese man climbing up the wet cement stairs, trying to look as inconspicuous as one can in such a situation while the children of the women who owns the building gawk in horror and disbelief that such a person could exist, much less be in their very own place of business.  But I don't blame them.  Curiosity is a power all its own and it rules us all.  Perhaps it's the whispers that I resent the most.  I would prefer that they ask me about myself than to act as if I can't hear them talking under their breath to their neighbor who is just as flabbergasted as they are.  What a monstrosity!  But they then disperse and try to treat me as if they hadn't seen me crawling before them all, and I smile.  That smile is my livelihood.  It's what saves the onlookers from their own humiliation of weakness brought on by their own curiosity.  It doesn't bother me, at least that is what they all believe.  But I feel them stare.  It burns me and makes me humble even to the lowliest child.  What a fine example of a shell of a man I am.  I should be proud of my humility, as it is my only true accomplishment.  Anything else I have done has been to shelter my true self from being discovered.  I should go into acting.

 

 

 

March 8, 2002

 

Let's see.  Another one of my friends I think likes me.  She's the third one.  She almost said something three times today.  I don't know what it is, but I think girls who just have little or no confidence like me.  I hadn't thought this girl to be like that, but now that I'm getting to know her a bit I'm seeing it more and more.  It's not that I have anything against her.  She is actually quite nice and not too bad to look at, but I just don't have feelings for her that way.  Ugh, what's a boy to do!  Last night I went to a salsa club with Cara.  We had a wonderful time, but I kept seeing the new girl that I like in every girl on the dance floor.  Of course I just sat up where the booths are, but it was an okay time.  It took Cara forever to be asked to dance because she was with me.  Finally she stood up and started dancing by herself right next to the booth.  After doing that for a while an old guy finally asked her if she wanted to dance and she happily accepted.  I thought she was going to kill the old bastard because they must have danced between a solid half hour and a full hour without stopping before they took a break.  It was fine and Cara danced a lot, so it wasn't all bad.  My mother hasn't been writing emails like she used to.  When she started out, she would never miss a day and got upset once when I didn't write back for about two days.  Now I'm lucky if I hear from her twice a week.  I guess she's just too busy with getting ready to go and get my brother from tech-school, but she started skipping out on me before that was even a thought.  I guess life goes on.  I'm also now announcing to the world my official addiction to Ebay.  Sheesh, this company just makes it so easy to spend a buck.  It's really quite something.  Cara's step-mother had the surgery done two weeks ago and has already lost over twenty pounds.  She said she never feels hungry even a little and always has to conscientiously remind herself to eat.  That's what I need.  Well, tonight I'm going to bed early because this place is so boring and there is nothing to do.  It's a Friday night, I'm in college, and I'm going to bed early.  Ah, so is the life of the morbidly obese.  I suppose it could be worse.  Well, I'm exhausted and going to sleep, so bye for now.

 

 

 

March 12, 2002

 

I was still me when I woke up this morning, oh happy day.  In case you can't tell, I'm in a pessimistic mood.  I got up early to meet my business partners from my class because we have this pointless presentation tomorrow.  I even skipped another class that I didn't want to miss so that I could meet with them.  Not one of the inconsiderate assholes showed up.  I waited for forty minutes and then finally left.  I was less than happy.  So other than that one class and my piano class last night, which is also a joke, I'm on my way to fulfilling an entire week where I don't skip any classes for no reason... at least not any real classes.  Frankly, I don't give a rat's ass if I don't even pass this class.  I could just as happily never sit through another one of his mumbled, fast, lisp-filled lectures and still live an entirely fulfilled life.  Maybe I should talk about something a little more positive.  I may be getting a summer job at my school after all.  It would be pretty much a miracle, but I'm not even so sure that I want one.  It looks like I'm never going to get my operation before I start my Senior year in college as there is an eight month waiting period to see the doctor for the first time and then another eight month wait after that.  Maybe when I'm old they'll let me have it and that way I won't have to be bothered with enjoying it while I'm still young.  Who am I kidding?  I'm not young anymore anyway.  My whole youth has passed me by.  I know that some of you will say "Well, you're only twenty", but I don't feel twenty.  I feel at least forty.  Speaking of forty, my dad will be turning forty in June.  My brother Thomas and I want to throw him an over-the-hill party.  My mother wants no part of it, so I guess we're on our own.  I have been sleeping in the afternoons again.  I have to stop doing it because then I don't sleep very well at night and I end up exhausted all the next day.  I keep having weird dreams, too.  Things like I am somebody else, I drown, and after talking to a family member for a while I start to float through the ceiling.  That's when I got scared and woke up.  I really don't know what to make of it.  Well, this whole entry is just feeling really forced.  It's not flowing like usual so I'm going to cut it off early tonight.  Until next time!

 

 

 

March 15, 2002

 

Okay, we've just had serious drama surrounding a very large spider.  It was in the sink in the bathroom.  They especially freak me out here as you never know if they're dangerous in this country, or at least I don't.  After a few minutes of ooh's and aww's, my suite-mate picked it up with a towel and brought it outside.  Anyway, yesterday was an excellent day for me.  I have been on a week-long trek to go to all of my classes as this semester I have skipped at least three a week.  I have been fairly successful thus far.  I thought yesterday would be horrible because I had this presentation for my international accounting class, but it went pretty well considering I know absolutely nothing about the subject.  Then I saw the girl I like (Mariana), and we had lunch together, which was nice, but I found out that she smokes really badly, so I'm not as infatuated anymore, which is good.  Then I got a job in the Student Activities Office at my school for this coming summer which is really hard to get because the job is so in demand.  Then I found out that my insurance does cover me in New Hampshire for the surgery and I also learned that after I get my appointment with the doctor I could have a date as soon as a week after that!  This is just fantastic news and the office said if I get all my pre-op testing done quickly they would do all they can to meet my deadline of six weeks before the next school semester starts.  Oh, this is just awesome!  Then in the afternoon we had a surprise test about a book I had only read four pages of, but the teacher sympathizes with me a lot because I am really at a much lower level of Spanish than the other students in the class, so she gave me a 90!  I deserved a 15 at best, but I never look a gift horse in the mouth!  Then I went with one of my best friends to the movies last night.  We saw Rollerball.  Let me just say this.  Do not waste your money on this piece of garbage.  There were only about six people in the theater and with good cause.  The movie is filled with bad acting, no plot, and extremely pointless violence.  Blech!!!  But I always have a wonderful time when I'm with Cara, so it was okay.  I had my first doubts about the surgery last night.  It was for a really bad reason, though.  I was reading another woman's web page about her surgery.  She is a few months post-op and has lost a lot of weight, but she said that she was happier when she was fatter because at least her body had shape and now everything sags.  She is a bit older than me, though, and also tends to be a bit introverted and doesn't go out much.  But it just made me think, What if I regret it later?  Then I got to thinking about how I will never be able to go and pig out with my mother ever again, but I guess that is a very stupid reason to have doubts as that is the very reason why I want to have the surgery.  I was also thinking about how people will treat me differently and if I will be a different person after.  I've been my own best friend for so long that it's sort of like saying goodbye forever to that best friend.  I also was wondering if it will hurt my mother as I won't be doing the same things or acting the same way after, probably, but then I think about the many times that she has told me that she worries about me dying young and how much she would like to see me thin and with a girl and doing what I want to do (which is not a possibility in this condition), so maybe I should worry about me for a change.  I love her more than anyone in the world, including myself, and I just don't want her to feel like I've deserted her by having the surgery.  Another thing I was considering is that right now no girl I'm interested in will even give me a second glance, but after I lose weight and I am walking again, some of them will probably look my way.  My problem will be that I will know that the woman I will be with probably would never have considered me before the surgery and I may have a tendency to think that she is shallow.  It's another stupid thing to worry about, but it does cross my mind.  I suppose when the time comes, though, I won't even think about that.  I'll just be happy to be in a relationship at all.  Speaking of relationships, today I saw one of the girls that likes me and she insisted that we go to the movies next week.  I am praying that I'm reading the signals wrong and that she really only wants to be friends, but I don't think so.  I have to say, though, she looked FINE today!  She was all dressed up for a congreso, which is a sort of business department exposition, and she looked really pretty, but I just can't go there with her.  I just see her as a friend and I don't think it would be fair to be her boyfriend when I like another girl so much.  My mother, on the other hand, has told me that she thinks I should just date both of them (Mariana and Cristina) and not worry about it.  Ugh!  That is so not what I was wanting to hear.  Oh well, what can I say?  I'm simply irresistible!  Hahahahahahaha, that sounds so funny to me!  Oh well, I know that she is only interested in me because I'm more like a therapist instead of boyfriend material and she has a lot she wants to get off her chest.  *Sigh*  Well, life goes on.  My family is gone to get my brother from tech-school in Wyoming and my mother won't write to me for at least three days, so I don't have much more news from home.  Oh yeah, my brother will find out this week if he will or won't get accepted to my college, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.  I really want him to get in!  I suppose I've blabbed on enough for one night.

 

 

 

March 16, 2002

 

I just realized today that I've never told you about how I got this way physically.  Well, that's what this entry is about.  When my father was eighteen and my mother was sixteen, they got married.  Soon after, my mother got pregnant with myself.  They were living in Florida at the time with my uncle Jerry and all three were working in a carrot factory, just making enough to pay the rent.  It was common for them to go days, even up to a week at a time without eating.  During my mother's pregnancy, she lost 20 pounds.  I'm sure this must have stunted some of my development in the womb, as I was born with club feet, which were operated on as a baby, and also with contracted tendons in my legs and right arm.  This basically meant that I had two legs and an arm that couldn't straighten all the way.  My mother worked with both legs every day, stretching them, and trying to make them stronger.  The doctors told her that it was hopeless and that no matter what she did, I would never walk in any way, any how.  Being the stubborn, lovable woman that she is, she didn't listen to them.  She then demanded that leg braces be made for me when I turned four because at that point I crawled on my hands and knees still.  The doctors told her that she was going to mentally damage me if she kept pressuring me to do the impossible, so she told the doctors to make them anyway.  In the beginning, I had leg braces on both legs and used a walker.  On one fine morning, I was slowly walking across the living room, when my mother called to me: "Danny, I have candy!"  I let go of the walker, turned around and bolted for her.  When I got to her, I realized what I had done and fell down on the ground.  I never used the walker again.  My mother kept working with my left leg a lot because it was the weaker of the two.  After a while I only needed a leg brace on my right leg... the one that was originally stronger.  I then continued my life walking with the one leg brace until I was twelve years old.  During the summer when I was four I went to live with my grandparents.  While there I developed terrible eating habits, as my grandmother was overweight, and as an excuse to my grandfather so she could eat, she would tell him that I was hungry when I wasn't.  He absolutely adored me and would never have denied me anything, so he would never have a problem with it.  My favorite food by the end of that summer was cheese eggs.  That is a fried egg with melted cheese on top.  I can still taste them!  Well, by the time I went back home to live with my parents (because school was starting), I had gained enough weight to have become chubby.  From then until I was twelve, I was never more than chubby.  I was never thin, but I wasn't really that fat either.  Then when I was twelve I got an offer from the Shriner's Children's Hospital to have an operation done to straighten the one leg that was still bad.  They put a steel contraption on my leg which had thick pins that were stuck through my leg and came out the other side and were bolted in place by curved steel beams that were left there for six months.  (This device is also used for limb lengthening in dwarfs.)  Four of the pins were drilled into my bones and where the pins came out I had open wounds...yes, for six months!  The idea behind it all was to lock the joint as straight as it would go and slowly stretch my leg until it was just a little past what normal straightness would be so as to allow for some retraction.  It was a very painful procedure that hurt all the time.  I had to stay in the hospital for that six months, as well.  The hospital is in Springfield, Massachusetts and my home is in Northern Vermont, almost five hours away, so I didn't see my family very often and my parents came to visit for the weekend once every three weeks or so.  After six months I was scheduled to have the contraption taken off, then I was supposed to have a cast for six weeks, and then start slowly walking again.  (While I was in the hospital they put me on a diet on which I lost 46 pounds.  Being as I was only twelve, this was a significant amount of weight and that was probably the closest to being thin as I have ever been, though I never got to enjoy it because I was in a wheelchair my whole time in the hospital.)  So the day before I was supposed to have the apparatus removed, I was doing leg stretches with the physical therapist like I always did.  These were very painful exercises where I would lay on my stomach while she pulled up on the back of the contraption to stretch the muscles and tendons in my hip.  When we were almost finished she said to me: "Okay, this is the last stretch we'll ever do together, so let's make it a big one."  As she pulled my leg farther back than it had ever gone before, I suddenly felt a jolt of pain right in my knee and I let out a scream.  She asked me what was wrong, and through the tears I told her that it hurt terribly.  My parents soon came back from shopping as they were in town for the operation and they talked to the doctors to have them x-ray my leg.  After that was done, they came back and said it was sprained and that I should stay for another month or more to make sure it would heal.  But being as the school year had already started and I wanted to go home so badly, my parents and I decided that if it was just a sprain, I could still go ahead and have the operation and both could just heal together.  All I remember when I first woke up from surgery was immediately puking clear fluid, asking if my parents were okay, and about five people rushing around me trying to take x-rays of my leg.  I kept crying for them to stop moving it all around, but they just kept telling me that they were almost done.  Soon after I was wheeled into a new room, absolutely suffering.  I now had a roommate, as it was against hospital policy for any child to have his or her own room unless they were wearing the contraption that I had just had removed.  I was in absolute agony and my roommate was no help... but it was not his own fault.  He was a little boy about ten years old who was there from Africa to have an operation.  He had severe mental disability and could not talk, but screamed without stop.  He couldn't get out of his bed, but he was terribly lonely and would only decrease to a whimper if one of my parents would go and comfort him.  I felt so bad for him and yet I was being tortured.  So my mother would sit by me and talk me through my tears and pain while my father comforted the lonely African boy.  After a while, my mother went to the nurses to demand that I be moved to another room or there would be lawsuits.  Well, needless to say I was moved to a single room shortly after.  The next day I had to have to cast removed as my knee had swollen to twice its normal size.  (Remember that I was supposed to have worn it for six weeks.)  They put on a cloth cast, which helped zilch, and they sent me home.  I couldn't stand up at all for about a year.  Then it was another six months before I could walk the distance of a room, even with a leg brace on my "new" leg.  In that year and a half I gained 150 pounds because I never got any exercise.  I was only twelve and thirteen years old!!!  I went everywhere in a wheelchair, and had to sit with my leg propped up when I wasn't in it.  By the time I got to where I could walk any reasonably small distance, I was so weak and overweight that I reached a point where I was only walking for very special occasions, and then to now, where I seldom ever walk... and this is only with a brace.  I can only take four or five steps without the brace and those are done with me bent over, leaning on my knees, almost falling with every step.  So last April I found out that the doctors had lied to me and I hadn't sprained my knee at all in the hospital, but I had broken it!  The doctors had covered it up for fear of a malpractice suit being brought against them!  The story of how I learned this is an embarrassing one.  It was a couple of days before Easter and I had gone home from college for the weekend to spend it with my family.  Well, my mother and I had plans to go shopping for Easter baskets that night, so when it was time to go, I started crawling down the front steps of my house, of which there were only five.   (I crawl at home, as our house is not accessible for wheelchairs.)  My brother, Curt, came running up to me.  I jokingly asked him if he wanted to give me a piggy back ride to the van where my mother was waiting.  He laughingly said that he would, so he turned around and I leaned on him a little bit.  I had absolutely no intention of actually doing it, but apparently he did.  *Sigh* (This part always makes me cringe.)  He started to walk forward, and I yelled "No!  Don't!" because he has a weak lower back and I didn't want to hurt him.  Besides, I knew he could never lift me anyway.  Well, I let go and fell forward off of the steps, though only a distance of about six inches maximum.  But when I hit the ground, I heard a huge crack come from my leg .....Pain..... I thought nothing.  I just felt pain.  I looked up and as Curt was running off I hollered to him that I had broken my leg.  He just ran off giggling, because he thought I was kidding.  Suddenly I realized that no one was coming and I let out the scream of death.  (This is the kind of scream that a woman screams as she is being stabbed to death in an abandoned parking lot.)  My dad came running out the front door and asked me what was wrong.  I just said, completely short of breath, that I had broken my leg.  He told me to turn over because I was lying in the mud on my stomach and I told him that I couldn't.  Eventually, with some of the worst pain I've ever experienced, we managed to get me in a sitting position where my dad would sit behind me and I would lean my back against his.  My mother didn't believe me at first when I told her it was broken for sure (because I had very clearly heard it break), but when the swelling set in she believed me.  They called 911 and my Uncle Greg to come and help lift me into the ambulance.  While we were sitting there (for a half hour, I might add... and I don't know why it took them so long, as it is about a two minute drive at normal speed), my father and uncle were telling each other dirty jokes, maybe to cheer me up, but more likely because that is just the way they are, until my mom gave them both a look that could have struck them dead.  Eventually the paramedics came and they sent two very frail, thin women to get me, so it was up to my parents, brother, and uncle to get me into the ambulance.  After the x-rays came back, they told me that I had broken my patella cleanly in half horizontally and that I had another break of my tibia fibula that was about eight years old.  We instantly thought back to my operation when I was twelve and suddenly the terrible sprain seemed to make much more sense.  I had also badly dislocated my big toe when I broke my kneecap (and I might add that this all happened to the same leg that I had the operation on).  Well, when all was said and done I had surgery twice in three months on my knee, one of which was a terrible experience, but the doctor said it broke so easily because of two reasons.  The first is obviously because of my weight.  My knee just couldn't take the pressure of such a fall.  The other was because I have the early stages of osteoporosis due to years of not walking.  Luckily, when the surgeries were all done, I was soon back to my old self.  Since I'm on the topic and this entry is already a hundred pages long, I will tell you about my second knee repair surgery, which was just terrible.  The doctors did a spinal on me because they were afraid that I might stop breathing during surgery due to my weight if I were asleep.  Now in case you don't know, the process of doing a spinal is not fun.  They take a very long needle and shove it into your back, trying to reach your spinal chord to put in the paralyzing fluid.  To reach the spinal chord they have to go through an area of nerves that rule the legs.  If they hit a nerve, a terrible pain shoots down the whole inside of your leg and they have to pull the needle out and try again.  On most people, they have to try between one and three times.  They had already had a terrible time getting my IV in; seven tries to be exact.  This was a million times worse.  They had me hunch over and the doctor shoved the needle in.  He and another did it to me over, and over, and over, and over again without success.  Two different doctors tried over the course of half and hour until finally one doctor said to me, while tears were already running down my face from the pain of being stabbed so many times, "I've tried about thirty times and if it doesn't go in on the next one, we will have to put you to sleep."  At this point, I no longer cared.  I just wanted the pain to stop.  Well, the last time it did go in and it was complete relief.  No more pain.  After it was all done, I had a black and blue circle on my back a little larger than a baseball that stayed there for over four months afterward.  That's how bad this was.  Well, after a little while, the paralyzing fluid started going into my upper chest and neck area and I told the anesthesiologist.  He told me that they may have put a little too much in.  It soon got so bad that it was in my head and putting me to sleep and I would stop breathing every time I dozed off, so I asked the same man if he would make sure I didn't fall asleep and he said he would.  Over and over again he had to keep asking me to take a deep breath, as I could not feel my chest at all, and when you don't feel your chest, you don't feel a need to breathe at all.  There is no feeling of suffocation whatsoever.  It was the closest I've ever come to not even caring if I live or die, and it wasn't in a sad way.  It was just such and effort to breathe and stay awake that I was thinking I would rather just be left alone than to keep forcing myself to stay alive, but then I thought of my family and how hurt they would be if I died, so I kept trying.  It was a bit weird, as there was no emotion at all involved in the thought process, but just pure logic.  Well I'm still here, so I guess the logic worked.  Eventually the medicine wore off and I was home within a few hours.  Okay folks, I thank you if you've read this far.  If you didn't, I don't blame you aren't reading this anyway, so it makes no difference.  Goodnight people!

March 20, 2002

All right folks, this one is a wowza!  I just came from one of the scariest movies I've seen in a long time, 13 Ghosts, and that stuff is not for the light of heart.  Okay, it was a bit too science-fiction for my usual tastes, and let me tell you, I don't see many scary movies, but I'm a sucker for ghost stories.  Well, let's just say I did my best to hide myself behind my hand, but it didn't work very well.  Mama mía, I am not going to sleep tonight!  Okay, yesterday was not the best day for me, but by the end of the day let's just say that I used a couple of wine coolers to take the edge off.  It was the first time I have ever drunk alcohol when I wasn't at a party, but two wine coolers doesn't do that much for bad days, especially when one is mandarin flavor, and tastes like somebody's dirty foot.  My great-grandfather passed away a couple of days ago, as well.  I believe he was 82 (remember how young my parents are), and I'm sure my great-grandmother is just heart-broken.  The funny thing about this man is that I'd never heard him say a word to anyone in my entire life.  Every time anyone had ever tried to talk with him, my great-grandmother would step in before he could utter a syllable.  I suppose it was probably all the same to him, though.  I really have no idea because I'm sure he didn't even know what my name was and had never said anything to me anyway.  They have tons of great-grandchildren and I'm not very close to that side of the family.  I am too much like my mother's family.  Oh well, life goes on... I just wish I could have talked to him at least one time to get to know about his life and perhaps get some of that "great-grandfatherly" wisdom that others perhaps have the chance to receive.  Well, maybe I can still talk to my great-grandmother, as I think she is only about 78 or 79 and as spry as a chickadee.  My brother got rejected to go to my college.  That is a real downer as we were all very much looking forward to him getting in.  I think he is a bit depressed about it, but he is a very strong person and will be okay.  He already got accepted to his second-choice school a few months ago, so I suppose he'll be going there next year.  He's probably my closest sibling and the only one of all my brothers and sisters that truly looks up to me, I believe.  I could be wrong about that, but he definitely proves it the most.  My brother Curt's birthday was on Monday and he bought another Brittany Spaniel (as he had one that got hit by a car a couple of years ago) and after buying it, the family was driving back to his school (because they are still in Wyoming) and the puppy threw up all over him and my dad.  My mom didn't seem to be too upset about it, but y'all didn't hear me say that.  We have no classes tomorrow because it is Benito Juarez's birthday (he was the first president of Mexico) and Saturday starts our spring break called Semana Santa.  This means Saint Week and I have no idea why it could be called that other than as a precursor to Easter.  Yikes!  I just realized that it is almost my one year anniversary of when I broke my knee that I talked about in my last entry.  I can still feel the pain from when I broke it.  Persons with a posterior such as mine have to be more careful in the future of such foolish ventures.  Well, tomorrow night I hope to go and see a tarot card reader.  Cara tells me that the woman is absolutely amazing, and the best part is that you only pay what you think her services are worth, so she'll be less likely to dish out a load of malarkey.  If we do end up going, I'll let you all know how it went and if she's the real deal.  I just can't get that movie out of my mind, and let me tell you, it doesn't help that this school is supposed to be haunted.  My suite-mates have even tried their damnedest to convince me that my room is specifically haunted, but I think they are just feeding me a line.  It's so hard to decide when they are telling the truth or not as they love to tell stories as if they were true and had all happened first hand.  They even had me convinced one night that the hamburgers I always used to order from a local restaurant had whale meat in them.  I am so gullible when it comes to their, very specifically, Mexican humor.  I'm completely in the dark about these things.  Well, needless to say I hardly ever order the hamburgers anymore and I often second guess the ghost status before I roll over to go to sleep.  I also had to present my literature project today and the teacher didn't even show up for class.  She sent a substitute!  This is a major part of our grade and the sub seemed less than enthused with my presentation.  The substitute was this very boring man who expected every one to be excited to be in class at four o'clock while his moan-drone voice drove us to resist the urge to fall asleep, taking all we're worth.  Needless to say I don't think my grade will be near what it would have been had my teacher been in the classroom.  All I can do now is pray, but miracles seem to be my specialty as of late, so I now believe anything is possible.  I'm going to cut it off now. At least I don't think I'm boring, or at least I hope I'm not.  I love to look back and read over my old entries.  It's so interesting to see how one can change himself in such a short period of time and I would never have realized it if not for past journal entries.

March 24, 2002

Okay, it's journal time again.  I went to see the tarot card reader with my friends and it was an interesting experience.  A couple of things just to highlight are that I obsess about one girl too much (i.e. Natalie) and therefore can't see other girls around me that are interested.  I almost laughed, but she's probably right.  It's just hard to believe that anyone could be seriously interested in me.  She told me that I have a very important financial opportunity coming up in about three months and that if I take it I can make lots of money.  I asked her about my surgery and she said that it will go off without a hitch, no complications at all, which is just what I wanted to hear.  She also said before that that I'm at a very important time in my life where I am going to transform physically and emotionally and in a big way.  She also said something that has gotten me worried, though.  She said I'll be married in three to four years.  Okay, I am only twenty now, which I realize, but I am not even close to ready for something that big.  She then went on to say that in my first or second year of marriage I'm going to be tempted by another woman and that if I cheat on my wife I will end up poor and miserable and that if I stay with my wife I will lead a content and basically happy life.  Why do I get all of the good news?  I also asked her if I would ever be successful in a country music career and she said I would, but after a lot of work.  Of course I suppose it would be the same for anyone, but at least it's possible!  Oh yeah, she also told me that there is a girl that is only interested in me because she thinks I have a lot of money.  Cara burst out laughing when she said this because I am one of the poorest college students I know, but a lot of Mexicans here just assume that if someone is gringo, then they must be rich as well.  I have been alone here in my suite for a couple of days now.  In the beginning I thought I would hate it, but now it's as if I have my own place.  I love the fact that my suite-mates aren't here and I can sing as loud as I want at any hour, the shower and bathroom are always free, no one steals my food, and there is no blasting rap music coming from across the way.  It's just peaceful.  I have yet, however, started to work on the twenty-something pages I need to write for next week.  I figured that I'll give myself the weekend off and tomorrow I will buckle down and do it.  Well, tonight a friend is coming over and I still have to finish my laundry and get ready.  We are going to order two fattening pizzas and watch The Emperor's New Groove (or in Spanish, Las Locuras del emperador), so I'm going to cut this off early.  (Please drop me a line if you have any questions, or would just like to talk.  I have met some great friends, and supporters, online... so don't be shy to just say hi!  Okay, that was a bit corny.)  Bye for now.