Hell Explained

Ahhhh, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The dirty details of my week in Hell. I won’t really say everything since every little thing isn’t that important or relevant. I’m updating on my last night here. I leave tomorrow. Thank God.

I’ll start off with getting dropped off at the airport, in which my own mother didn’t shed a tear for my departure to the oh-so-boring countryside made for old people. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe some kind of emotion caused by the thought of her only daughter leaving her side for the next three months. Pretty sure she smiled the whole hour ride back home. Ha.

Nothing really important happened at the previous two airports I went to, but later in the day I arrived at the last one and had to wait three hours or so for a ride to the town the grandparents I was going to be living with live in. I have two sets of grandparents that live fifteen minutes from each other. One set is labeled as Hell (grandma and grandpa) and the other is labeled as Heaven (grandfather and grandmother).

My driver loved talking, which kind of annoyed me since I wanted to fall asleep and pretend I was anywhere but in a two-hour car ride. He mentioned his daughters were in the Olympics and had straight-As. I wish!

When we got to the town, which is just a highway, my grandparents greeted me and we go out to this small, loud restaurant next to a nail salon. How crappy and cheap can you get?

The thing about the grandparents I lived with for a week is they hate anyone who has an opinion. I guess my whole family is like that the more I think about it.

My grandma is a bitch. She looks like a deflated frog and wears these awful white tennis shoes with a small black cross body bag. She also waddles like a penguin whenever she walks anywhere. We don’t get along at all.

My grandpa, her partner (they aren’t married but they’ve been together for over twenty years), is hard at hearing, has dentures, and doesn’t wear pants outside. He has this thing in his stomach or chest that will instantly kill him if it bursts out from picking something up that’s too heavy. I’ve wondered how I’d react to the news to his death. Would I be relieved? Cry? Would I be emotionless?

I don’t even know him. I can’t be upset about something like this happening if I never really connected with him, you know? How brutal does that sound? Not crying over my own grandpa’s death?

Anyway, back to the restaurant next to the nail salon… They wouldn’t even let me talk a full sentence, and so I just sat there, eating my fried shrimp and wanting to pass out and die. My grandpa offered some poor kid a bite of his steak. I wanted to crawl in a hole and shrivel up and die right then and there. It didn’t help that I have the same hair color as my grandma and can be mistaken as her daughter or whatever, not that I would be since she’s old as shit. Going out in public with old people is so embarrassing and should be avoided at all costs.

On the other hand, my grandfather is married to a Russian, and it’s the best thing ever. She’s beautiful. Old, but still beautiful. Her name is Sonechka, but we all call her Nechka. Her accent is so thick I can hardly understand what she’s saying half the time, but her hand and arm movements are so exaggerated it looks like she’s playing charades. I just smile and nod whenever I can’t understand what she’s saying. I love being around Nechka.

Her husband, which is my grandfather that actually has his teeth, is big. Double chin, big belly, the works. He’s rich, which makes up for that stuff. He gives me lots and lots of money on holidays and special occasions. Wanna know the best part? His house has no ants or bugs in it. And his dishes are clean and his house doesn’t smell or look dirty!

We had a goodbye dinner tonight, and my grandpa gave me my graduation gift. A necklace from Spain and one hundred bucks. That’s eighty bucks and a necklace more than what my other grandparents (the ones I have been living in Hell with) gave me. You can guess who I like more.

When I told my grandma about the money, she said, “That makes me seem like a cheapskate!” She only buys Great Value, so she really is one.

Hell was terrible. Ants were all in the bathroom, and a moth hung out there for what seemed like forever. I found a spider in the room I was sleeping in, and I actually washed everything I ate with/off before they touched my food. The floor was dirty and gross and seriously needed a sweep and mop to it. I vacuumed the whole house because I was forced to, but at least I put in some effort to clean it up a little. It didn’t last. I was also kicked out of the room when the 5 o’clock news came on, and all my grandpa watched was western and black and white movies. They were so boring and poorly acted.

Their dogs hate me, too. Oh the fun!

Not Happy

It’s been a week since the last time I’ve posted, I think. I haven’t been happy at all lately. My mind has been on 37465234781 things.

I should be happy. But I’m not. I’m not even sad or mad or anything. I’m empty. That’s not good.

No one knows I feel this way. I’m trying to hide it. I almost got hit by a truck yesterday when I was crossing the street. I don’t know why I stopped. Maybe because I had to be at work. Go figure.

An update on my school life: I might not graduate. I don’t really care anymore. None of it really matters to me. School sucks, so why should I go to class? I hate class. I’ve been skipping class for two weeks. The teacher sucks. I don’t know how she became a teacher.

My mom yells at me for not taking my grades seriously. All I do is zone out. I write papers 24/7. The teachers suck. Grades are more important than anything else happening in the world. Why would I want to go back to school for another three years?

I want alcohol again. Sorry for the short, boring post. I don’t feel like blogging anything right now.

My Life Sucks

As I type this, I’m emotionless and in need of some alcohol. I feel like this is going to be the beginning of the worst year of my life. Possibly years.

My mom just told me that her and my stepdad are getting a divorce.

I feel betrayed. Is this what kids going through divorce feel like? Am I another statistic in the long line of broken families and messed up relationships? As if my life and its relationships aren’t already messed up! My mom says to call him and tell him how I feel, but I don’t want to even speak to him or hear his voice.

So this is what I’ve decided: my stepdad is out of my life. For good. He’s about as bad as my biological dad. I feel so betrayed and I want to crawl into a hole and die there. Why is my life filled with bad luck?

Have I mentioned that I really need some alcohol?

I told Katie about this and she says she cares and is there for me. You would think that after knowing each other for almost two years that she’d be over and trying to comfort me. Nope! She’s with her boy toy right now, probably getting high or talking about dumb shit like coleslaw. (He asked her if she liked it or not the last time we hung out.) Maybe this is payback for calling her a pig killer.

If I can find any alcohol in this house, I’ll probably drink myself to sleep tonight. I don’t feel like being around anyone, and I’ll probably be depressed all day tomorrow. Yippee!

 

Steven, Pig Killer, and No Diploma

Last night I met my friend Katie’s great grandma. I think she’s 83. It was so awkward! She was all old and wrinkly and almost deaf. It took her 5 minutes to actually hear something, even though it wasn’t accurate at all. She thought my name was Steven, yet I’m obviously a girl and don’t look like a Steven. I just don’t understand how she got Steven from Jessica. I don’t think she has teeth, and I’m pretty sure she smelled weird, too. But I think that’s just Katie’s house. When I left Katie’s house, everyone said bye except her grandma. She said hi, which caused me to stop and stare at her as if she was foreign.

My friend Katie had an awful time on Easter. She’s so sensitive, but I guess I can see why. She’s a sheltered pig like the ones her dogs killed. She couldn’t stop crying about it! I spent at least ten minutes laughing about it. My sense of humor is terrible. But I wasn’t laughing at the dogs killing the pigs. I was only laughing about how the people are going to look back on this ten years from now and laugh about it. When I hung out with her yesterday, I made fun of her. The dogs killed a little autistic boy’s favorite (and best) show pigs. He only had two weeks to go before he could show them off. I made fun of Katie for being a pig killer, but she responded with “You eat pig all the time!” Hahahaha! I even told her she killed an autistic kid’s dreams. She almost cried.

Skipping to this morning, I was in a huge rush. I ran into my principal, which only led to her talking to me about the emails she sent. She said if I didn’t do three exams in a few weeks, I wouldn’t be able to get my diploma and graduate. How fucked up is that?! I’m going to ask about it on Thursday, but I’m not going to take it if I don’t have to. It’s pointless. I hate school.

This would’ve been a lot longer, but I didn’t have an eventful day at all. I have no idea what time to post. I think I’ll post when something interesting happens or when I’m in the mood for spilling my deep, dark secrets. Not sure. I have a lot of work and sleep to catch up on, so I’ll update you all on when something of my liking—or disliking—happens. See ya.

Nine Hour Shift

Having a job that’s relaxed and lets you sit on a yoga ball the whole time is amazing. Too bad this is my last month working there. It’s honestly so boring and everyone treats each other like a doormat. My boss is literally crazy and makes weird ass sounds, and this one lady that I work with is hated by everyone. No joke. We’re trying to get her to quit.

It was a slow day, which is great since it’s not so loud and people rarely come up to you to ask if they can borrow a basketball. Most are clueless and ask before looking. Working at a gym sure has its perks when you want to get your homework done, though. Which, as we can all believe, I didn’t do.

I was working with Oscar today, which I rarely ever get to do. He’s a little on the bigger side with a gray mustache. He looks like Mr. Potato Head, but without the hat and dark skin. He’s white, bald, and is probably in his mid forties. Anyway, we talked about anything we could think of. We made fun of people on Facebook, talked about cooking/baking shows, and criticized school subjects. Then we started talking about ghosts and ghost towns.

There’s actually a ghost town called Johnsonville Village in East Haddam, Connecticut that’s on the market for $800,000. It’s basically a town created from a mill, and the people that worked at that mill lived in the now abandoned houses. This was all during the late 1800s. We watched a video that showed the area, just to see how it looked, and the music made it a little too creepy. There are a few ghost towns around here, so maybe I’ll check one out.

Somehow we got to talking about our ghost experiences, which I’ve only had one. It’s not that cool, so I won’t talk about it. But Oscar had three. Two when he was younger, and one when his daughter was a year old. Those stories were creepy, to say the least.

Have you guys ever heard of water babies? I haven’t until today. Water babies are these unwanted or deformed babies that were thrown into water by this Indian tribe. People say you can hear them cry and hear the laughter of children, which makes those unlucky few drown. They’re sort of like sirens, I guess.

Oscar said that he read about this one guy just vanishing in a lake six hours from where we live. There was zero trace of him, and his small boat was still floating. He was an excellent swimmer and never drank, or so his family says. I don’t believe the nondrinker part. I blame the water babies for making the poor guy disappear. Apparently, the more I look into this, there are a lot of urban legends about this lake. There are also a lot of disappearances. Where did they all go? Crazy thought, huh?

After a few hours, this random guy came up to me and tried asking me what I was doing on my laptop. He was super sweaty, awkward, and had glasses. I said I was doing school work (lies!), in which he stopped and kept asking more questions. I don’t think he got the hint through my facial expression. I’m not a narcissist or anything, but I legitimately thought he was about to ask for my number. I already had two awful experiences where a guy tried hooking up with me, and an old lady tried hooking me up with her son.

I feel like this is all over the place, stops abruptly, and only talks about my work day. I worked nine hours and that’s basically all that happened. Does that annoy any of you? If so, I’ll try harder to end things smoothly and talk about more interesting things. I literally just got home from work and took a shower, and now I’m about to eat a delicious TV dinner while watching Gilmore Girls and/or documentaries.

Thinking About the Future Sucks

A couple months ago, when I had the urge to become a world-renowned writer, I was told by someone that works near my house to write a blog and get input from the people reading it. I had one complication, though. What was I getting input for? What was I going to write about?

And then it hit me. I’ll write about my pathetic life that no one cares about! How interesting would that be? I’m sure people would love to hear about how many mistakes I make on a daily basis, right?

There’s a part of me that thinks writing about my life to a bunch of strangers is ridiculous. Another part thinks it’s good for me to talk about how great, or crappy, my life is going. I mean, maybe typing things out and telling the world about them will help me figure things out. I still have no idea what to do after I graduate in May.

My mom, including everyone else on this damn planet, keeps asking me what I want to be and where I want to go for college. All I say is, “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.” She rolls her eyes in return and keeps pushing me to make a decision. It’s annoying. I only have this coming up summer to figure out my future. No big deal, right? Everyone else has their future picked out, so it kind of sucks to be the only one in my friend group to not know anything. I didn’t even apply for any colleges. Honest.

I have one friend, the only one I’m closest to in this shitty town, is moving an hour away to a university and already knows what she wants to be. She’s smart, has fifty million scholarships, and can drive. I’m smart (only about film and crime related things), but I can’t drive. I don’t have my license or a car. I’m 18 and still need to be driven by my mom. Can you say “Loser!”? I can.

My school counselors try to figure out what I should do and where to go. I’d hate to tell them that they’re wasting their time. They get paid shit money just to guide us lost students. I believe they should at least be paid more, but half of them suck at their job. I go every few weeks, which they hate, but I have class. I tell them I’m doing fine, but that’s not completely true. They just want to see me succeed, which isn’t really working since I have a bad case of senioritis. I’m failing a class and have two very long papers to write. Guess what I haven’t done yet? Those papers. Ha!

I promise you guys that a majority of my posts won’t be about school. Just wait until summer. That’s when I’ll be visiting my grandparents and hopefully getting my license. Until then, I’m screwed and have to take the bus to school. Honestly, thinking about the future sucks.

I should probably go now, though. Talk to you guys tomorrow.