It Started Way Back in History

My life has, seriously, been a series of events wherein my parents have tried to ruin my life. I don't usually say that out loud, but I believe it.

I was born in 1973 to 17- year-old, pot-smoking, rebellious parents. My father soon enlisted in the military and proceeded to make a mockery of marriage, service, and himself. My mother divorced him while he sat in the stockade when I was only 15 months old. You know why? Because she was pregnant with my sister and really wanted to marry the guy that allegedly got her that way. So...in 1975, 3 weeks before she delivered Shirlynn, she married the man I call Daddy. They moved back to Tulsa, resding in the poorest area not yet taken over by subsidized housing (it got that way about 4 years later) and began to raise their family. In 1977, Annie was born.

I don't remember a whole lot of life back then. You know..memories of bicycle riding and digging holes to China with a teaspoon. In 1982, they came to me to inform me that I actually had a different father. A nice, alcoholic, irresponsible one. His mother had died and they really wanted me to attend the funeral. Now...I try not to judge them for this next part, but it was possibly the biggest mistake ever. The bastards send me to the funeral with a bunch of people I only knew in passing. That wouldn't have been quite so bad, except that it was my first funeral, and worst of all...it was a Catholic funeral. (There are 2 things I try to avoid at all costs in life: Catholic weddings and Catholic funerals. Each are equally time consuming and confusing.)
In 1983, my parents decided to step up the torture that was my life and moved to Smallville. It's kind of funny how it happened. My father decided to step outside his religion and marriage for a little fling. He took his girlfriend to the mall one day. Here in Tulsa, there is a little news segment called "Waiting Child." It's one of those public service spots where they try to show everyone, in 90 seconds, why they should adopt a 9 year old. My father sat, obliviously, in the background of one of those tapings and made out with his girlfriend. I guess if you're gonna go down, you might as well go big. Where was I? Oh..Smallville. Now..I don't know how many of you know about these kinds of towns, but there's some sort of code. Namely, if you're not wealthy then your parents needed to have attended school in said town if you are going to have a chance of survival without ridicule. I had niether. I spent the next 2 years trying to figure out what the fuck a rubber was and figuring out how to make my bangs a little bigger so I wouldn't stand out so much for not knowing what a rubber was. The bulk of these years were marked by forced religion, bi-polar mothering, and excessive discipline. All of that, I consider to to be the first chapter of my life. Actually, the Prologue. Sometimes, I just don't consider it part of my life at all. It was just the foundation upon which my cycle of co-dependence, semi-alcoholism and dysfunction was built.

Chapter 1 began in 7th grade. I was 12 years old. I was ok with my position in the hierarchy. I had plenty of friends. I was a cheerleader. I was doing a great job of blending in with the herd. I had perched myself precariously between knowing what a rubber was and knowing not to be involved in the act that required one. My parents had gone and had a baby! A baby! I was twelve...we really didn't need that thing! Still yet, I was content. That was until the arrival of the new girl. She was way too cool for the rest of us. She came from a big school in the big city. Her parents had money, but not a lot by Smallville standards; and they didn't attend school at Smallville. What was this? This girl did not have the keys to success in this town and most of all: She didn't give a damn. She was loved and hated by everyone that counted. She talked about things we never knew. She had a different hair cut and wore different clothes. She didn't care about cheerleaders or song dedications. She knew all the words to the coolest songs. And that was only her first week. I knew Jill was my soulmate.

Jill and I were inseperable for the next few years. She was my solace and I was hers. We pursued boyfriends, cut each other's hair, learned to wear make-up, got our first kisses, made it to 1st base and 2nd and 3rd, drank our first sip of vodka from a Tupperware tumbler, and generally held each other up. Some wandered in and out of our 2 girl clique; some tried and were denied. They were the years of all my best memories. Sometimes the right humidity and the sun in the perfect spot in the sky still takes me back to swimming in a dirt-clouded river, giggling about Shannon Boyd's boyfriend kissing one of us last night at the East Campus dance.

Our high-school years were rough. Jill found the wrong boyfriend. I spent too much time looking for the right one. We drifted apart at 15 and it would be 2 years before things would be back on track.

Character Recap:
Holly: me
Shirlynn: sister of Holly
Annie: sister of Holly
Jill: best friend of Holly

Shannon Boyd: unfortunate victim of 2 way-too-cool 8th graders.