There are few things more memorable than rocking out to Styx's Come Sail Away with your mom going down the I-17 at full volume, most likely scaring the other drivers on the road. My mom has hated that song for as long as she could remember, and now, after finally allowing Styx to invade her ear canal, she likes it. No one can resist Styx. No one!
Today's been an unusual day, because I've encountered my first true case of writer's block for this blog. I usually have a lot to talk about, but today, it just seems like there's been nothing going on, and the whole thing's been feeling a little empty, so I decided to do the only thing left that I possibly could do. Look into the past. Not a lot of people have ever heard my full story, and I think it's somewhat of an interesting one. It also occurred to me, looking back on it, how many things in retrospect were actually hilarious, some, well not so much. It sometime amazes me how much I've evolved as a person, being raised in the the unconventional way that I did (but now not so much). My parents were separated from what seemed like birth, and I never really could remember them being together.
I moved a lot as a child, being born in Palisades Hospital, in New Jersey. I lived with my father and mother 1/2 the week each after a somewhat nasty court battle over the custody of me. My father lived in a large loft which I called "The Big Place", and my mother lived in an apartment in Blvd. East, in West New York. Blvd East is a very popular place in New Jersey, it overlooks the Hudson River and New York City, and everyone from the poorest of the poor to the richest of the rich had houses and apartments there. At around three years old, my mom met my step-father Tom, a man that would go on to raise me for the next 11 years of my life, and still lives with us today. I didn't always know what I thought of Tom, but the man taught me a lot about reality.
My dad was starting to cozy up to a woman named Maira. They would soon get married, and get divorced a little more than a year later. By this time, we all lived in a New Jersey suburb called Tenafly, and I went to Tenafly Public School, which was one of the best elementary schools in the state. With my mother, I had moved three times. Once to Manhattan, once to a small suburb called Bergenfield, and once more to another small suburb called Cresskill. I never had many friends in either of these places, nor at school. Picture the Jerry O'Connell character from Stand By Me, yeah, that was me. For those of you who haven't seen that classic, he was fat, awkward, and not what you'd call, a star. I got made fun of a lot for my weight and complete inability to run fast. Also, it was around this time that I began to develop the stutter that would forever hinder me from the rest of the world (probably around first grade).
In the second grade, I had a fantastic teacher named Mrs. McDonough. At this point, we were already dissecting squids, worms, octopus, and other things of that nature. I don't think I ever had a teacher since that really cared about my future as much as she did, not to say that my entire life I've been blessed with some of the best teachers in the world. Also some of the worst, but that's another day, another time.
It was also around this time that my father met Melissa, who would become the love of his life, the mother of two of his children, and one of the only women to ever stick by his side through thick and thin. I've got more respect for Melissa than I do most women I know. She's got love in her heart, rules with an iron fist, and still tries to keep the "boat" so to speak, floating. When he met her, my father was filthy rich, millionaire rich. Good went to bad, and bad went to worse, which is how we ended up in Arizona, or how I think we did.
Somewhere between 2nd and 3rd grade that I moved to the state of Arizona. It was either Florida, or Arizona for the family, and Arizona was the last minute choice. To this day, the details of why we moved are still fuzzy to me, but it's been almost 6 years. No use in trying to caring about it too much now. Anyway, we get to Arizona, and pull up to our house, revealing a big stretch of desert, and one house. Our house. What the hell did we do? Why has God punished me so much? I was only 8 for chrissake, did I really deserve this crap? As far as my mother's housing arrangement went, we lived in the hell-hole that most of you know as Anthem. But at 8 years old, my opinion mattered as much as the dog's did.
My 3rd grade year started at the learning institution known as Desert Mountain Public School. Much of the year wasn't really too exciting. I stayed out of trouble, did what I had to, and left as soon as I could. 4th and 5th grade landed me in what I look back on as the worst two years of my life. Rancho Solano Private School. My parents were paying $10,000+ a year, for me to miserable. For two years. Much of the student body was of Hindu or Sikh descent. I'm not trying to make a racist remark or anything, but 90% of the reason that I hated that school, was the next to constant bullying that I had to put up with. I had no one I could count on, or really trust. Not a person that I could call a true friend. Any friends that I did have, just abandoned me when the going got tough. One thing that truly bothered more than any, was that if I tried to sit with anyone at lunch, they'd move tables, not daring to be seen with me. It was because of this, that I developed a lot of trust issues and anxiety problems for the future.
After my parents were convinced that I had been through enough at Rancho, they transferred me to a charter school called ACAA or Arizona Conservatory for the Arts and Academics. It was here that I truly started to bring back the real musician in myself, having already played piano for almost 6 years, and guitar for 2. I encountered some of the most reliable friends, best teachers, and most stories in my two years there. I could never even begin to describe in detail all of the things that I did there, it would take me days. But all I know is that, ACAA and all the people in it, forever changed me.
It was from there, that my parents finally got me in to ASA. I cried, pleaded, begged, and asked very nicely to not transfer me there, but it was set in their mind to put me in ASA. And now, here I am. There's not much else that I can say about ASA that I haven't said before. ASA is a very important chapter in my life, and part of me is actually glad I transferred here.
Yes, if you're wondering, this is an extremely revised story of my life, there's just so much that I could say. So much I can describe. So many stories to tell, but that's for another time. I've written all I wanted to here. I know that one day, it'll all be on paper, but for now, you'll just have to find out for yourself.
Here, I've got the link for the fan page, which leads to my: facebook page, twitter, and more.
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Joeys-Blog-Fan-Page/113630322038018
I hope you enjoyed reading my child's book version of an autobiography, there's a lot more I've got to say. All in good time.
No comments:
Post a Comment