"Family"

Family is defined as "a group of people related to each other," but as humans, we often include non-realatives in that category. Friends, co-workers, and family of significant others all fall in that category to some of us. When I think of family, I think of people who are good to me, people who would go to the end of the road with me, metaphorically speaking. Unfortunately, I was born into a crappy family. I grew up blessed with many material things, but the trade off waa a vain mother, a father who would rather not be a father, sisters who are self absorbed and very impressionable, and extended family who are very good at hiding their emotions and judging others. I am definitely a black sheep. I'm a liberal atheist, and my family are all conservative Christians. I wish religion and politics were the only thing that divided us, but that would be too easy. 

My mother has more daddy issues than you could possibly imagine. Her father was a drunk and her mother remarried four times, twice to to same man. My mom has only had her looks to get by on, as she is uneducated and will bend over backwarda for men. For example, when I was 12, my mother was with a man who was a sex crazed, manipulative, con man who convinced her to send me to a school in Mexico run by non-licensed "teachers" who stole from me, starved me, molested me, and attempted to brainwash me with scary "seminars". I still have nightmares about this place I resided in for almost 2 years. I was also placed on heavy, endocrine system altering sedatives that made me gain an incredible amount of weight and made my high school years miserable. I was misdiagnosed with a mental illness I did not have at her hands, and for 11 years, my life was fundamentally destroyed by these drugs. The medications I was prescribed were so expensive that insurance didn't cover them and my mom couldn't afford a full month worth, so I was taking them once per week, which made me an emotional roller-coaster. My ups and downs were so dramatic that I couldn't keep a job or friends, and school became a joke for me. I'm surprised I didn't commit suicide, honestly, because I was to that point many times. 

My dad was born into a wealthy family. He has worked maybe a couple of years in his whole life. He was a trust fund baby, so money was his whole life. He was also an undiagnosed paranoid schizophrenic with borderline personality disorder and a hankering for blondes, so his loyalty to my mom was short lived. Their divorce was especially difficult for me when I was 7, as their marriage was so superficial, my sister and I had no idea there were problems. Instead of seeing a therapist to help cope with their divorce, I was quickly diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and bipolar disorder without even speaking to someone; my mom saw I  lashed out at my sister and her and took it upon herself to get someone to prescribe me Depakote, which caused more problems than you could possibly imagine. As a 13 year old, I was on 2000 MG per day, was overweight, socially awkward, depressed, and a zombie, all at the same time. My father quietly disagreed with her but did nothing to prevent any of this. My sister and I were in the middle of their messy divorce, with me receiving the brunt of it. I was manipulated by both my mom and dad; I was given presents and doted in, and was finally swayed to choose my mom, which I think my dad always held against me.  My dad and I had an awkward relationship until I was 16, when I stole $40 from him and he disowned me. To him, money was far more important than his daughter. I haven't spoken to him in 12 years.

My sister and I have had many ups and downs. She's two years younger than me and has always been the silent observer of all the chaos around us. We've had moments of closeness,  but our relationship has mostly been stained with jealously and anger. She always wanted to be a mom, so she gave up her dream as a nurse and quickly married and had a baby. Her life as a housewife suits her now, and although she claimed atheism until she was 20, at 21 she was a full blown Mormon with nothing but judgements  and faux purity.

My extended family is worse. My maternal grandmother is incredibly vain and self absorbed, and has not only been an awful mother to my mom, but a bad grandmother as well . She cared more about her image as an aging woman than she did being a grandmother. She was actually embarrassed to be called Grandma in public. She had a daughter when she was in her 40s (who is actually just under two years older than me), who is just as vain and self absorbed as she is. I was constantly compared to my "aunt" who was skinnier and definitely more popular than I ever was. My family's motto has always been just to "suck it up" and as an emotional teenager on high dose psychotics, I was outcasted and gossiped about.

Obviously this is an extremely shortened version of my familial issues, but I felt it just needed to be shared. I often am made to feel like I'm being dramatic and I need to get over the past, but it has shaped me to be who I am today.  Would you tell a rape victim or a veteran to "just get over it"? No. PTSD is PTSD. Obviously my story is not as bad as many people have it; I grew up with clothes, food, and a roof over my head. I was taken to the dentist and doctor and went to private schools. I was also made to feel fat every day, dismissed for being emotional, and ignored by psychiatrists and my own parents for the inner turmoil I felt daily. 

I know I have family; I have a few close friends and a husband who would love me to the ends of the earth, and we don't have the same blood running through our veins. I think Webster should reevaluate the definition of family, because the people we share DNA with aren't always the ones who are there for us.

B Positive

I found out recently that my blood type is B Positive. 
I did a lot of reading up on it because I've always been curious, and I know that differently blood types can make one susceptible to developing different diseases, as well as have a different way of metabolizing certain foods. What I found to be interesting is that I felt almost like I was reading my horoscope when I was reading about internal characteristics of individuals with B type blood. 

Surprisingly, only 9% of Americans have B positive blood type. The majority of the population with that blood type are of Asian descent, except in Germany and Austria, there is a huge population with this blood type. Not surprising there, since my heritage is Polish/Austrian. It is believed that B blood initially came from the Himalayan Highlands, now Pakistan and India, and that it mutated to adapt to certain climatic changes as those people migrated across Europe and had to find different types of food to survive. 
From what I've read, individuals with B blood type have a great genetic potential for malleability and the ability to adapt and thrive in any given conditions. (Did someone just describe Darwin's theories??) 

                                                    I LOVE DARWIN <3

What's a giant bummer, though, is that people with B blood type are known to produce higher cortisol levels in response to stress (aka: maybe that's why I'm getting migraines?!), but overall are the healthiest and the tallest of any of the blood types.
 

For Type Bs, the biggest factors in weight gain are corn, wheat, and bean products. They can affect the efficiency of  metabolic processes and make us tired. I've been hearing for MONTHS that I should go gluten free anyway, so maybe now's the time? Damn! I love me some spaghetti, corn on the cob, and black beans!
 

Another surprisingly common food to avoid is chicken (whatever, I don't even really like chicken anyway), because it contains Blood Type B agglutinating lectin in its muscle tissue. What is that, you ask? It's not good, I'll tell you that right now! Lectins regulate cell adhesion to glycoproteins in the blood and can mess with the way your body regulates proteins (the way a corrupt police officer regulates criminals....in other words, he doesn't!)
                                                

Anyway, it can lead to potential strokes and immune disorders. And now I'm officially done with chicken!

And this is where it gets freaky: apparently, people with Type B respond best to exercise that's not to aerobically intense, and do activities that have more of a mental challenge and involve people, such as hiking, bike riding, sports, etc. Which, if you ask anyone when the last time I've run on a treadmill is, you'd hear crickets. However, I would go hiking every single weekend if I had the chance!

Also, in a study, it was shown that most Blood Type B's describe themselves as subjective, easygoing, creative, original and flexible. They are score high on the intuiting/feeling combination of personality traits, indicating insightful, idealistic, creative, globally-oriented, people oriented and imaginative personality traits. They also learn best through listening, then reflecting on and interpreting what they had observed (which is what I'm doing now, right?). 



The article I read also mentioned that I should maintain these lifestyle strategies in order to live a healthy and fulfilling life:

• Finding healthy ways to express my non-conformist side (yes, I most definitely need to express that in a healthier way. I'm too negative sometimes about certain things)
• Go to bed no later than 11PM and sleep for 8 hours or more. B individuals need to maintain their circadian rhythm. (I'm a GRUMP when I get less than 7 hours of sleep)
• Be spontaneous (I like routine a little too much sometimes and can get bogged down in the mundane, non-surprising or exciting factors of life).                                   
• As B's age, they have a tenancy to suffer memory loss and have decreased mental acuity. I need to stay sharp and do tasks that require concentration unless I want to end up with brain soup at a young age!

Anyway, if these don't work, and it's all just hocus pocus, at lease I'm trying to B positive (HA! Pun intended) on my path to self discovery and understanding the mysterious ways of universe.

Holidaze (Already?!)

I can't believe it's the middle of November already! Am I the only person that's already tired of Christmas music and it's only been played for a week? I wish I could say I loved being a super chipper Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday zombie--listening to Christmas music in the car, wearing Christmas earrings, and trolling the malls for hours,  however since my other half is required to work on holidays, I usually spend half the day alone or with a family that is not mine (which is totally fine because I'm grateful people allow me to eat with them on holidays!) and then go home to an exhausted husband who melts into bed. 
Is it bad to say that I'm okay with this? I remember growing up, I HATED family events. I would have to get dressed up, go to a family member's house or have them all come over to our house, and either be stuck sitting with the adults and my older cousins, or at the "little kids" table.  I had only one relative who was near my age, my aunt, who was a bit older (and liked to make it known that she was, in fact, 19 months older than me), so I really had no one to play with or talk to. I share no common interests with my family; I'm the only liberal, none of them really like animals, and all of them are obsessed with material things and money, and talking about life successes. **Note: This is not a bash sesh, just facts** So needless to say, I dealt with my mom running about anxiously cleaning and preparing, me being told to be on my best behavior, and having to sit in an uncomfortable dress with people I had nothing in common with except for similar DNA. Family get-togethers felt more like a chore than anything--a one-upping contest at best with no prize, just self-loathing and humiliation.

*Woe is me, cue the violin.*

My husband could really care less about holidays because his family never made big deals out of them (he got big tubs full of stuff he needed at Christmas, like socks and underwear, instead of things that he wanted, like remote control cars and such) because his family didn't have much money. My family made Christmas a month long event: a marathon of anticipation and waiting, only for one or two of us three girls ending in disappointment because the other sister got something bigger and better, and my parents wasting thousands on material things that we forgot about the next day anyway. If we celebrated Christmas with our extended family, it was even worse. We were spoiled rotten brats (I feel lucky my parents tried to make us have nice holidays, but it kind of backfired with how ungrateful we were at the time) and the meaning of Thanksgiving and Christmas were long lost at a young age.

When Nate and I first met, I would start talking about Thanksgiving and Christmas plans in October, and he looked at me like I was an alien. His family usually worked on the holidays as well, so they tried to get together when they could, and if they couldn't, no big deal...it was just another day for all of them. When the actual day of Christmas rolled around, I must admit I was disappointed at the lack of show and production and no presents under our little Christmas tree (if I remember correctly, he had forgotten about it and ended up running out the day of Christmas to get me something because he saw how disappointed I was). The two following Christmases got better, with him realizing I was not used to the nonchalance and me realizing he wasn't used to my bubbly anticipation. Last year, he went out and got a HUGE tree that barely fit in our apartment and left our living room in a pine needly mess, but he was excited to show me his attempt at Christmas, which was cute.
His family made me realize the true meaning of the holidays--everyone lounging around in their sweats, watching movies, eating food, and just hanging out together. Everyone gets things they need and there's no jealousy over who got the highest priced item. 

So this year, I'm looking forward to eating with my friends and their family for Thanksgiving, coming home to an exhausted husband, maybe watching a movie, and melting into bed. I don't know what Christmas holds yet this year, but I know it will be filled of laziness, love, and food, which sounds pretty perfect to me!

Casa by the Sea: My Story of my 7th and 8th grade years spent in Ensenada, Mexico.

There are only a handful of people that know about certain aspects of my life before now. I usually tend to keep it that way because parts of it were fairly traumatic and I don't want to rehash things that don't need to be rehashed. I don't like to be crooned and felt sorry for, I don't want people to bash my mother for her decisions, and I don't want people to think that I am a victim here. What happened to me from the time I was 12 until I was almost 14 made me who I am today; I've learned independence, Spanish, and that I can survive when I think things couldn't be any worse. Here's my story of Casa By the Sea, the school in Ensenada, Mexico that I was sent to live at for my seventh and eighth grade year. 


February 12, 2000 was a cold and rainy day in Minden, Nevada. My mom came in to wake me up, but I was already awake. I was beyond stoked; I was going to the San Diego Zoo that morning! My mom and step-dad has promised me a couple of weeks ago that if I was really good and did all my chores, they would take me to the San Diego Zoo. I had never been to a zoo before, and since I loved animals so much, I just couldn't wait to see them all up close!
My parents explained that they were having trouble with the airlines, and they couldn't get tickets for all of us to sit together, so my Aunt Monica (my step-dad's sister) would fly down with me and that my parents and sisters would fly down on a later flight. I didn't care at all--I was just thrilled to be able to go to the zoo for the first time! Unfortunately, I had a huge stomach ache that morning (foreshadow much?) and my mom asked me several times if I was sure I wanted to go. I told her she was crazy if she thought I'd change my mind. 
My aunt came and picked me up shortly after, and my mom gave me the biggest hug in the world before I got in the car, which I thought was strange since I figured I'd be seeing her in just a couple of hours. She also was crying. I asked her what was the matter, and she told me she was just so happy that I'd finally be able to go to the zoo. I kissed her good-bye, got in my aunt's car, and waved to her until I couldn't see her anymore. 

The plane ride was a blur. When we got off the plane, my aunt explained that her two friends would be picking us up from the airport and taking us to the hotel. These ladies met us at the gate, and my aunt didn't seem too chummy with them like they were actually "friends" but I don't think at that time I really noticed; I was practically skipping alongside them to the car. One of the ladies opened the door for me and I hopped in. She shut it abruptly while the other lady was starting the engine. The doors locked, and the window rolled down slightly while my aunt leaned in and told me I was going away for a awhile, and that she was so sorry. She was crying, and I asked her why she wasn't getting in the car. She told me to be good, and that she was so very sorry. The window rolled up, she stepped away from the car, and turned to walk back toward the airport while I sat there bewildered. It took a moment to absorb what had just happened, and knowing the answer anyway, I still asked the ladies if they were going to take me to the zoo. They told me that they weren't, and that we were going to Mexico. I asked them if they were kidnapping me, and why my aunt didn't stop them, and they said that they were hired by my parents to escort me to a special school in Mexico and that I should just be quiet, because it was a bit of a drive. I began to cry hysterically, asking them to take me back, to call my parents, that this was all just a misunderstanding. I told them that I had been a good girl lately, and that I was supposed to be going to the zoo. I asked them how long I would be staying in Mexico, and they said they weren't sure, but it would be a little while. I was sobbing so hard that I was hyperventilating, and told them I was going to throw up so they needed to pull over. They said they always heard the same story and handed me a paper bag. I was in disbelief that my parents were doing this. I felt so betrayed. I thought it was a joke, and I just couldn't wrap my mind around it. 

We stopped eventually in front of a huge red gate surrounded by what must have been a 50 foot tall stucco wall. The lady driving leaned out and talked to a guard, and then the gate swung open. When we pulled in, I was greeted by a man named Jade, and he said he was the boss around here and would be taking over from here. He led me into what looked like a hotel lobby, but it had shabby couches and chairs, and was decorated with  motivational posters. We sat down, and he asked me if I knew why I was there. I told him I didn't, that this was a mistake, and asked if my parents knew where I was. He told me that my parents wanted me to come here because I hadn't been following the right path in life lately, and they were concerned for my future. I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about; I had straight A's, I didn't drink or do drugs, and I used to go to church all the time, and that if I started going more, could he please just let me go home. He smirked his self-righteous Jade smirk (a look I would soon come to loathe) and told me that I was going to be staying here for awhile until I graduated their school. I asked him how long that took, and he told me that it was up to me--some people are out of here in six months, others in 2 years or more. 
He waved his hand toward the door to signal someone, and a girl walked in wearing blue sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt, sandals, and had her hair in a tight bun. She introduced herself as Destiny, and said that she would help me settle in to our "family", and that I would live in one of the three double wide trailers on the property that each housed 30 girls. Our "family" was called Alliance, and we would eat together, sleep under the same roof together, go to "school" together, and walk in a straight line together. Jade pulled out a big Rubbermaid tub from behind the couch and told me my parents sent this ahead of time so I would have the things I needed. I followed Destiny to the "house", and she sat with me while I opened the tub. I really hadn't said much up to this point because I was still in shock at the reality that was unfolding around me, but when Destiny asked me what I did to come here, I burst into tears and told her I had no idea, that this must be a mistake, and that my parents probably thought this was a boarding school. When she asked how old I was and I told her I was 12, she couldn't believe it, and told me I was the youngest person to ever come here, which made me cry even harder. She said she was going to go talk with Jade later to make sure this wasn't a mistake, but that she needed to go over the rules with me. 
1. No talking to anyone, whatsoever. If I needed to talk to a "Mama" (the Hispanic ladies that supervised us and made sure we were following the rules), I had to raise my hand and ask permission to be called on. 
2. Ask permission to sit down, to stand up, to use the restroom, to talk, to eat, etc.
3. Always walk in line everywhere, just follow the person in front of me.
4. If boys were ever coming over to the girl side of the school, we would be warned by the "Papas" shouting CHICOS! and we had to put our heads down and close our eyes, and if we were caught looking, we would get in huge trouble.

The program worked on a level system. Higher levels = more privileges. I was a Level 1. There were 6 levels total. Levels 1 and 2 were nothing. We were allowed to write letters to our parents, (but they were all going to be read before they were sent out, so we couldn't put anything in them about if we hated it, wanted to go home, etc, or we would lose those privileges) and not much else. We got points each day for just behaving. We had to earn a certain amount of points to advance to each level. On Fridays, everyone Level 2 and up got a chocolate bar. 
Level 3's were allowed one 15 minute supervised phone call per month to our parents. Level 4's and above were "upper levels". Level 4's were allowed to talk to other upper levels (in Spanish only), and to the lower levels as well. 
Level 4's were allowed one phone call per week to their parents, and parents could come and visit for a couple of days, and go off site with them for one of the days. 
Level 5's were allowed a "home pass" where they could go home for 1 week, and level 6's were allowed a home pass where they could go home for 2 weeks. On Fridays, level 5's were allowed to "free dress" and wear jeans and regular clothes. Level 6's were always allowed to wear regular clothes. Level 4's, 5's and 6's were also housed together in an upper level "family" called Essence. Everything was based off a point system, and it was easier to lose points than it was to earn them. 
There were also "consequences" for everything. There were Category 1 (Cat 1) offenses, (something minimal like not raising your hand to ask to stand or sit), Cat 2, (which was something like speaking to another person or looking when the boys came around) Cat 3, (which was also called R&R, and we could get that for insubordination, like getting multiple Cat 2's, or by refusal to eat), and Cat 4's, which rarely anyone got. I honestly only knew one person to get  Cat 4, and she tried to run away. 
Cat 1's just took away points and our weekly candy bar for one week. 
Those who got Cat 2's had to sit in a room in Indian style, facing the wall, listen to books on tape and take tests on them. We had to get a certain number of points to get out of there, meaning if we missed points on the tests on the books, we'd be in there for a long time. 
R&R was basically solitary confinement. We would be required to  sit in a room the size of a closet, in Indian style and sitting on our hands, facing the wall, and "thinking about our actions" for however long the Mamas saw fit. What really sucked about this, is if we did anything to piss one of the Mamas off, they could give us a Cat 1 or 2 or whatever they felt like. There was no list of what to do and what not to do or anything. 
There were also seminars we were required to go through and "graduate": Discovery, Focus, Accountability, and an upper level one that I can't remember the name of. Discovery was completed at Level 1, Focus at Level 2, and Accountability at Level 3. These seminars were brainwashing, crazy, and terrifying. They would last for a few days, feature some sort of speaker, and various activities that were supposed to help us, but really we were required to do them or we would get thrown out of the seminar, de-level, and have to repeat it again, prolonging graduation and anyway out of of this Mexican hell hole. 
I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep, feeling the deepest betrayal from my parents. I would cry so hard that the night mamas would come over and whisper for me to "callete" (shut up) and if I asked to go to the bathroom, they wouldn't let me, so I'd end up wetting the bed. I wanted so badly to talk to someone, but we were only allowed to talk in "group" to our family and we were so supervised it was ridiculous. 
I was pretty heavily medicated while I was there, as well. Sometimes, they would run out of my medication and I would withdrawal so badly that I would almost pass out from the dizzy spells, nausea, and headaches. I was just points away from being voted up to a Level 4 (which also was dumb because my family, Alliance, had to vote for me to go on to the upper level family, Essence, or I wouldn't be able to advance. It was just a giant popularity contest, and without majority vote, I'd be stuck on Level 3 for as long as they wanted me to be), and I stepped  fell out of line while walking because of my withdrawals, and was given a Cat 2, which was something like 200 points taken away, and then given a Cat 1 on top of that for trying to explain that I fell out of line because I was so dizzy.
Apparently, my mom sent money to me all the time and I never saw it because my case handler, Yesica, took the money. I was supposed to visit her once per week and talk to her about my progress, which was also a joke because she barely spoke English and if I said anything negative, it was written down and told to Jade. 
I started my period shortly after my 13th birthday, and had no one to talk to about it; I wasn't allowed to talk to any of the girls in Alliance, and the Mama's barely spoke a lick of English. I had no idea why the hell I was bleeding, and didn't want to get in trouble for it, so I would just stuff toilet paper in my underwear. 

The seminars were terrifying. For example, in Discovery, there was one exercise where we would have to sit on our knees, our heads pointed toward the ceiling, arms outstretched, while cheesy music like Sarah McLoughlin played, and we were all told to scream to "let all the anger out". Then, towels were placed in front of us, and we had to beat the floors with the towels, yelling while we beat the towels, saying things like "I hate you, Dad, for touching me," or whatever other issues these kids had. The "staff" of the seminars all knew about us, so they would get right up in our faces and yell "Aren't you so angry at your dad?" Some girls would cry and not want to talk about these deeply disturbing issues in front of the 80+ kids (the seminars were full of boys and girls) and then wouldn't graduate the seminars, preventing them from advancing at all. Afterward, we had to say we forgave whoever wronged us. It was emotionally and physically exhausting, run by very untrained people (as in, not counselors or psychologists or anything) and we were forced to talk about very private issues and then say with conviction that we forgave so-and-so for wronging us. I didn't really have any of these deep seated issues like these other kids had, so I would just have to elaborate on how I was mad that my parents sent me here in the first place. It was all so strange to me.
The "school" was a large room filled with tables and folding chairs, and since all of us were different ages, they had a shelf for each grade level--7 through 12. We would have to pick out a textbook at the beginning of "school" and read and do the exercises 6 hours per day, 6 days per week. We would be required to take and pass 3 tests per week or we would get a Cat 2. Our "teachers" were one man and one woman, both not credentialed or English speaking, who would sit up at a desk at the front of the room and grade our papers. If we needed help with a subject, too bad. Their competency level was so low and their English so poor, they might as well have not even been there. 
After a while, the place went to shit (even more than it already was). The plumbing stopped working, and we had to go to the bathroom in buckets. The stench of that place was unbearable. I also got Salmonella, and was quarantined for a while until it was passed. I was seen by a doctor who came to the school, which in retrospect I'm pretty sure wasn't an actual MD, and given antibiotics.

I learned quickly that I had to smile and nod and pretend everything was okay with me, and that I was learning that progressing. If I didn't do this, I knew I would be stuck here forever. If I didn't adapt to this situation, I knew I wouldn't ever get out, and my mental state would be compromised. I had to be positive. I had to tell myself that I would be able to go home soon. Even though I felt so betrayed, I had never wanted to see my mom more. 

My mom and step-dad and sister came and visited me when I was on Level 4. I was allowed outside of those gates for the first time in a year. We went around the town of Ensenada and did touristy things; I was on my best behavior and pretended that I was having a good time because I was so afraid that I would be stuck at Casa by the Sea longer than I would have to be. It was such an awkward and formal visit. 
When I reached Level 5 and was granted my first home pass, I went home to my parents' in Sparks, NV and begged my mom to keep me home. I promised her I would be so well behaved and told her about some of the things that were going on down there. My step-dad thought I was lying, and I overheard him telling my mom that I was just manipulating her so I could come home, but that she had already spent my college tuition fund for my stay there, so I should just finish it out. 
In the end, my mom won and I never had to go back. I was put in Mendive Middle School in April 2001, and spent the last two months of 8th grade trying to learn what I should have spent my entire 8th grade learning. I later found out that Casa was completely unaccredited and was falsified to all of the parents as having an accreditation. Casa was shut down a few years later by the Mexican FDA and Child Services for a laundry list of health code violations and child abuse and neglect. 

I suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for years and years after that; in fact, sometimes I still have such vivid dreams about the place. I dream I am kidnapped and imprisoned and there's no escape. I talk, but no words come out. Everyone is speaking a different language and no one will listen to me. It's terrifying, even after all these years.
My social life suffered from this as well. I entered 8th grade close to the end of the school year and I barely talked. I had spent 97% of my time at Casa in silence, and I was not used to being able to talk to my peers. I was also so terrified to do anything wrong at home in fear of being sent back, that I was a total homebody all of high school. I think I went to a couple of dances, but never drank or partied or misbehaved and didn't really have any friends. Once I turned 18 I kind of went buck wild because I knew I couldn't be sent back, but that's a different story....

People often look at me in disbelief when I tell them I was sent to school in Mexico, and the first thing they ask is if I had a ton of fun. It's hard to put into words the terror and anxiety I felt while I was there, the uncertainty and distrust I felt for adults, the sickness I felt from being on and off medications, and the brainwashing seminars and the conditions we lived in. The lies that were told to the parents were countless, and the treatment and neglect of all these kids was unbelievable. 

I am grateful I was able to learn Spanish; when I came back, I was fluent. I have lost a lot over the years, which is unfortunate, however I can still understand it very well. I also went to the zoo for the first time this year. I have been apprehensive about it for so many years because a part of me thinks I'll be tricked again, but it was a nice experience getting to visit the Portland Zoo. I still keep in touch with a few of the girls from Alliance via Facebook, which is nice. We've all grown up to be very successful in life, and whether or not that's due to being at Casa, we'll never know.

Religion & Politics & Friendships

With the upcoming election, everyone has their debate face on as far as who's right and who's wrong to run our country. Both parties are so unbelievably biased it's ridiculous, and regardless of the facts, people see the elephant or the donkey and they don't budge. I admit, I'm biased as well; I am liberal for the most part, and I don't like to conform to society's standards of what I "should" be like. I don't even like politics all that much, all the bureaucratic bullshiz and the scandals; we might as well be watching an episode of The Real World: White House, where instead of guidos and slutty chics running around, we've got men and women in pant-suits arguing and gossiping about everything.

I've even noticed how my "friends" on Facebook who are right-winged have changed towards the things I post, whether it has to do with politics or not, because of my left-winged tendencies.

Sidebar: I think it's funny, too, how I only communicate with like 15% of my friends. According to Facebook, I have 258 friends. HA. I totally associate with maybe 5 or 10 people, and some family members with whom I can have a cordial conversation. Some of these people that friend request me didn't even talk to me in high school; I'd admire them (the popular people) from afar, their glamorous and fun seeming lifestyles. And not a lot has changed since then; many of them still lead these seemingly perfect, carefree lives with no hardships and full of fun and partying. How nice fake it must be! Am I just another number to add onto your list of 1,500 friends that stroke your ego and make you feel popular? High school doesn't end with high school or college for the most part, unfortunately, nor does it end in the workplace. Cliques, drama, and gossip still exist in the adult word.

Back on topic...
I've never really expressed a political affiliation prior to this election; I didn't even vote during the last election because I didn't like either candidate, and I honestly wasn't that interested in anything to do with the elections (mainly because I was probably drunk, as I was the majority of the time I was in college), but with this election, seeing how much my future as a middle class citizen could be affected, I feel like I would be doing myself and my country a disservice if I didn't vote. Regardless of who I vote for, I just think it's crazy how peoples' true colors show when it involves their political beliefs.

I feel the same about religion. I went to Catholic school my whole life; rather, I wasn't given a choice to go anywhere else because my parents wanted a higher education for me, which was kind of them, however I don't think my mother really comprehended the fear and guilt the Catholic religion can instill in a young teenage girl with self-esteem issues, therefore resulting in self-loathing and depression. Anyway, I can remember sitting in religion class in my senior year of high school, and Brother Phillip, the religion teacher, was talking about souls. He said that animals didn't have souls; that when they died, they did not go into heaven because they had a soul comparable to a rock, i.e: non-existent. That is the moment I stopped believing in religion (I didn't say believing in God!). I was so quiet in high school and never really said a whole lot, but I had never felt the need to bite my tongue more. I didn't understand the contradiction, that God loved all creatures but limited the entrance into heaven to humans only. Didn't we descend from apes anyway? Of course, not in the eyes of the creationists. Evolution was hardly touched on at my high school so I didn't really get the chance to learn anything about that until college (where it became the most fascinating thing I  have ever learned).
I'm passionate about certain things in life (animals, women's rights, etc), but I don't sit around talking about my distaste in organized religion all day every day, or in the election. It's my personal business, and if people ask, I'll gladly answer, but it just gets redundant and annoying after awhile. Sure, I'll like a liberal post here and there on Facebook, (which unfortunately shows up in my news feed for all my friends to see, resulting in the suppressed animosity that I most definitely feel from the non-left-wingers), but that's what I think one of the joys of being liberal is about---peaceful passion. 
I don't want to shove any of my beliefs down anybody's throat; I want the freedom to choose whatever I see fit for MY life. Yes, it's MY life, and I don't want someone telling me I no longer have the option to take birth control, or that if I were raped, they would decide if it was legitimate or not. As part of a society, we all have to conform in some way or another, but I believe social etiquette and respect aren't too far fetched behaviors for us adults to portray. Is social decency extinct? Or am I naive and did it just never really exist?

Evolution > De-Evolution

There seems like there's just not a lot to be optimistic about in a world where there's war, poverty, and joblessness. It's hard to find peace knowing that there's people living on the streets and families without food and money; that's the optimist in me...I feel sorry for those people and I am grateful for the life and opportunity I have.

Then comes the good ol' devil on my shoulder telling me that those people probably did something to make their lives end up that way, that I shouldn't feel sorry for people who cannot, or will not fight to survive in the world. Charles Darwin (aka my hero) wouldn't feel bad for these people: it's evolution. The weakest people die off...whether they starve or get sick, they obviously don't have the ability to adapt to changes.

And then I think to myself: Why do I think like this? Do other people think like this? Problem #36 of being an over-analytic person: Over-analyzing my over-analyzing...don't even get me started...

I see myself as the giraffe in Charles Darwin's explanation of survival of the fittest; the giraffe once had a shorter neck, like a horse, however it was in an environment where it could only get its food from tall trees. So, over time, the evolution allowed for giraffes with longer necks to survive and the shorter giraffes to die of starvation. Eventually, the giraffe became what it is known for today. I have had a lot of things thrown my way in my life, and I've had to learn to adapt to survive. I could have easily given up a long time ago, but I just knew that wasn't an option.

Visual Aide:

I really think the most accurate depiction of a post-apocalyptic event is not from movies like 2012  or The Day After Tomorrow, but of the movie Idiocracy. I mean, despite the silliness of a lot of it, it really had a great message: all of the lower IQ people (totally not poking fun at people with mental disabilities), the "degenerates of society" if you will, those who mooch off of the government and cash in their welfare checks for drugs or whatever else while they continue to pop out children, will soon be the only type of people left in this world. It's a known face that intelligence is hereditary, and especially with the way education works these days (too many students, not enough teachers, not enough money), the theory is that there will no longer be intelligent people left. In the movie (for those who haven't seen it), Luke Wilson, the main character, wakes up find that he's hundreds of years in the future and the world is full of trash, in fact, cities are made of trash, and since there was so much "breeding" for lack of better word, with the unintelligent people of the world, there are no more smart people left, and basically de-evolution has occurred and everyone has reverted to a neanderthal/primitive way of thinking. It's one of my top 5 favorite movies. Highly recommended.