My mom was my dad’s second wife. I met the daughter my dad disowned (because he told his third wife she “wasn’t his” when there’s obvious proof she is), the one from his first marriage, when she found me on the internet after ten+ years of looking for me. She told me some horrible stories like that he told Mary, her mom, that he was going to medical school, had a pager and scrubs, and went to class every day, but had been lying and never enrolled at the school.
My dad and my mom both did horrible things to me as a child. Never sexual abuse, but they had their own issues and paid very little attention to me, even when I acted out to specifically get it. My mom was on drugs. My dad was a workaholic. When they got divorced (I was 9 and my younger sister was 7) my dad fought a custody battle to get my sister and me, won, and then moved us away from my mom and blatantly ignored us.
Years later, my mom cried and apologized to me for not being able to be there for me; my dad’s response to me has always been one of “I never did anything wrong, why are you so fucked up?” I moved away in 2001, when I turned 18.
In 2006, his third wife’s parents went on a Caribbean cruise. They invited every child and grandchild (my stepmother has 4 and my dad has my sister and I) and their significant others except for me. I found out through facebook. My stepmom felt so much “guilt” at me not going that she and my dad paid for my trip, barely talked to me the whole week, and though she hugged me tight and promised she wouldn’t “forget” to call me the next time one of my grandparents died like she had earlier that year, we haven’t spoken. Her father died a few weeks after we got back.
So I’m back from Dan’s sister Patty’s wedding. Patty and Marco got engaged New Years 2008, and somewhere early in that year, she got pregnant. They decided to wait to have the wedding, which I think was a great choice. It’s obvious how much the two love each other and the baby. The ceremony was really great, and I had a lot of opportunity to take pictures.
For some reason, when I updated wordpress for my photoblog, it won’t let me post from flickr, so I’m having issues with it. Here’s a link to the set from the weekend.
Marco’s family is Mexican and some don’t speak any English at all, so the ceremony was bilingual, which was fun. Also, Dan makes retarded faces.
Just went on a long bike ride with Dan and we were riding against the traffic at one point, which reminded me of this bike safety video my sister, Sabrina, and I had as kids that had a song about riding with the traffic that had stunning lyrics like “ride with the traffic!” Can’t seem to find it online, but it was the kind of video we’d watch and laugh at for its cheesiness.
There was another video that my stepsister’s cousin was in where they sang about God. It was produced in the way you’d say someone “produced” a cheaply made video where they paid kids to sing lyrics to the melodies of classic songs. One of the songs, which was to the tune of “You Are My Sunshine,” had the lyrics “there is only one way and that is God’s way/there’s only one way/it’s in his heart.”
You can tell the kind of preteen I was by this: my little sister, younger step-sister, and I used to watch that video to laugh at it and we would make hand motions that suggested that the “one way” was in his anus, and not in his chest.
My mom took me to dinner tonight and then gave me this pay as you go phone that used to be my grandfather’s before he died. He died in 2006. The phone is ancient. I am just glad to have a phone.
We went out for dinner at this place that serves BBQ Duck, so we ordered one. The waitress brought it out to us, cut it up in front of us, gave us the meat and some vegetables, and then took the carcass back to the chefs, who made soup and fried rice out of it. It was really delicious, though the fucking soup had cilantro in it, which is the devil’s herb.
Anyway, it was cool to hang out with my mom and I feel a lot better now that I have a cell phone, even though it’s pretty limited use.
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About As a poet, I feel like any photography I do will always be a reflection of the words I use. When I think, I think in words, not images, unlike visual artists. This site houses a minimalist dream log, my poetry including poems from You May Waltz To Your Doom In Sanguine Stained Shoes, my photography, and a blog with Let's Play related entries.
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