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I'm going to start this off by saying that I'm not looking for sympathy, I just want to get my story out there. None of this is exaggerated or made up, it's all very true. Now, to the actual story.
The first thing I ever remember really was my very first day of school back when I was four. The first thing I ever heard from a peer at school was ''Why are you so white?'' That sure as hell helped out my confidence in myself. The reason, by the way, that I was so white is because my grandmother was, and still is, obscenely paranoid that I'm going to get kidnapped. It was always very annoying, since no one really lived out here or drove out here. But, onto further topics. The next thing I really remember clearly was the reason I have horrible money issues. I was about eight years old when this happened. I had $211.00 saved up from getting good grades and such. My grandmother would keep hold of it for me because I was an idiot, like all eight year olds. Well, one day my mother decided she wanted to ''hold'' it from now on. Her and my grandmother got in an obscene argument. Screaming, yelling, the whole damn nine yards. I wound up yelling as loud as my little eight-year-old lungs could handle at my mom to just keep the money. She did, and to this day I've never seen a penny of it. Granted, if you count all of the shit she's stolen from me and rightfully should have paid me she owes me about 15 grand. This counts the two years of child support she stole from our home mailbox when she wasn't living with us, and the fact that she never paid child support when she was supposed to (she hasn't lived with us since I was five.) She just moved back in, though. But, on to further topics. My memory is fairly fuzzy at around this time, but I do remember my second grade teacher showed us a video of them removing some of her bone cartilage. It was one of those cameras they stick inside you, so it looked pretty bad ass. I still think it's pretty cool to this day. Well, that covers elementary school, now for middle. Fifth grade was when I got my third band teacher. In first to third I had one, then in fourth I had the teacher who got fired a while back (I wrote a blog about it), and then after that I got another. It was a big mess, in my opinion. But, he was awesome. I wish he'd stayed all three years, but he only stayed two. He was so fucking hilarious sometimes, though. We were playing a song called Sakura, and he started talking about a Japanese love story near the end of the song. We didn't finish the song because we were laughing so hard. Fifth grade was when I went to my first band festival. It wasn't what I'd expected at the time, but I still had fun. My seventh and eighth grade years just kind of meld together aside for one aspect I'll get to later. In seventh and eighth grade our band had nine people in it. Yep, that's it, nine. It was interesting, because now I'm looking back and seeing just how small that is. The school I used to go to has a band of about fifty kids. And even that's small. But, my eighth grade year was when the fourth band teacher came in. She's such a dunce. She shut the lights off one day to show us her glow-in-the-dark fingernail polish. It didn't glow. Not surprising, is it? She'd also let us take off days whenever the hell we wanted. And she wondered why I was so quiet on trumpet back then... I saw her last year and she didn't even remember who I was. I think she got on some pretty hard drugs or something, because there's no way her memory could turn that shitty in three years when she's only in her thirties. Now, for the part that's different between the two... My uncle died my eighth grade year. Don't remember his funeral at all, but I still miss him. He was awesome. Part of the few people in my family who were worth a shit. He and my dad were best friends, my dad dated my mom, and my uncle said to my mom's sister ''I'm gonna marry you some day.'' Low and behold, they got married when I was about eight. After I'd started listening to ICP, I wound up looking back and finally realizing that was the Riddlebox on his back. That's also my favourite joker's card. Has been since before I noticed that it was his tattoo. Either way, there's not much else to say. He rolled over in his sleep and suffocated or something. We still don't know. The next year was when my grandmother died. Not the same one from earlier, she's my great-grandmother. But, back on topic. She had cancer for a long time. Probably twenty or so years. She worked at McDonalds and was literally the only worker there who smiled. Kind of sad considering she was also the only one who was terminally ill. But, when the last two weeks of her life kicked in they put her on morphine. Made her fuckin' nuts. I hated seeing her like that. She was the last person to die in my family that I gave a shit about. Thanks to all of that I went into a depressive state. Didn't shower much, the whole deal. Wound up getting the nick name ''Grease Lightning'' on a band trip. Some guy claimed to see his reflection in my hair. And after that nothing really happened until this year when two of my favourite teachers got fired over stupid shit. Band teacher got fired because he did the jacking off hand motion, Chem teacher got fired because of a religious argument. It's all a load of bull shit. Well, that's my life, I guess. I probably left out a few parts, but my memory's fuzzy right now. I'll leave this off here since I can't think of a witty ending.