ASSIGNMENTS:
|
|
Chelsea H.
Berkeley, California USA
|
|
REPORTS:
PREVIOUS NEXT
|
|
I was born in Bavaria Germany. I lived on a farm in a tiny town with people I called Oma and Opa, though they may have had no blood relation to me. My brother was born two years later. We moved to the US when I was in early elemntary school. I remember being terrified of chickens and thinking baby chics were gross and also that people who ate eggs were revolting. I remember seeing two skinned rabbits hanging by their ears in the kitchen and refusing to eat meat at the age of three. I remember the smells of a farm town and the huge fields of sunflowers that grew like giants way over my head. I remember a huge wave in Spain that scared the pants off of me. I remember staring out a hotel room in Paris and realizing myself observing the world. I remember the not-so-cozy feeling of castle dungeons, and leaving my favorite stuffed animal in a train station in Belgium, which my parents actually went back for! Enough of memories.
We moved to Denver, CO, where they thought that I might be "retarded" because my speech was all garbled from learning multiple languages at once, and I mixed them at will. I went to speech therapy to learn how to communicate properly, and also, after having my IQ tested, ended up in a special program for Academically Gifted kids - thus further isolating me from regular kids my age. My parents broke up and my dad sort of slipped out of the picture. My only memory of him from that time is playing tag and he accidentally landed on top of me while running and knocked the wind out of me. The boys in my regular school thought I was cute and would chase me down and try to kiss me. I hit one of them with my shoe and got in trouble. I begged my mom to let me cut my hair short and eventually she did.
One day, I was told that we were going to go live with my dad again and we were moving to NC. I was in third grade.
I met a boy, who was my friend for the next few years, who looked more like me than my brother. I still wore my hair short and I still got put in weird classes, sometimes by myself, because I was "so far ahead" of the rest of the kids. I also got interested in skateboarding and BMx bikes, I tried girl scouts but it was boring and you had to sing stupid songs. My mom's best friend lived across the street from us. She was an abstract painter and made clothes. This was my first experience being around someone who made art, for real. I didn't think too much of it.
My parents split up again before a year was up and we moved to another part of town. Oddly, when I started school, the boy I was friends with before was there too. The teacher loved me and told my mom that I "like to take care of the underdogs", a phrase that my mom likes to remind me of often. The next summer, we found out that this boy friend of mine had been sexually abused by a friend of the family. This wasn't suprising to me but I won't get into why.
My mom remarried that summer while I was in Denver visiting relatives. We moved again and that winter I got a baby sister. This is 5th grade. I danced and did cheerleading but also still skateboarding and the bike. I was slowly adjusted to the ways of the American South. My sister slept in ,y rom - that sucked. I met Dorian at the skating rink. He was my first "boyfriend". he lived on the other side of town but we both speed skated. It didn't really last very long but it would make a lasting impact on both of us.
I moved after 6th grade, further out of "town". We were the only house in a new upper middle class development. My mom and step dad owned nightclubs - a gay bar, where they had met, and a new goth/industrial bar - both doing quite well. I was the weird new girl in junior high. And it was pretty uneventful. I had good grades, ran track, did theater and danced, tried some drugs, and got alcohol poisoning at my friend Melodie's 14th birthday. Boys liked me, their girlfriend's hated me, I got hassled a lot. Learned how to kick some ass even though I was barely 5' tall.
I met two of my closest guy friends who I still see when I go home. I was a menace to the young male populace. Punk, cute, and slightly tom-boyish - I also relished in breaking the hearts of guys who had done injustices to my girl friends though I had few.
Senior high, I ran into Dorian again in gym class and fell instantly in love. We had grown into the same kind of people. Misfits. he had grown his nappy hair into dreads, which he bleached white, played drums and sang in a band with the sweetest voice ever. We were, much to our dismay, a fucked up version of childhood sweethearts. Our on again-off again relationship was full of drugs, strange conversation, song. Our senior year we were both nominated most bizaare. I loved him, but I also wandered.
I moved out during high school. Couldn't keep things peaceful in the house, so I left. I spent most of senior high couch surfing, but still managed to graduate top of my class with honors and all that silly stuff. No plans to go to college. Some time at NCSA and LSD made me realize I no longer wanted to perform and started making art - academics were a joke, and I did hallucinogens before Calculus regularly.
After a scuffle with some skin heads shortly after graduation, I went on a road trip. Me, music, and the open road - it was great. I ended up in Denver. Went to Bound By Design on Colfax and got a few new piercings, was invited to a Crash Worship show. Holy Shit! I can't really say much more. It was in a field between Denver and Co Springs, Midsummer, candyflipping. Yeah, that's the stuff!
I enrolled at CU-Boulder. Named America's #1 party school by MTV that year. I definitely lived up to that it's reputation. Spent most of my time at the Funny Farm, worked as a dancer at some gentlemen's club, and tried heroine. That was great. I managed to keep my grades up out of interest but missed an exam.
I went home for Winter Break, met the people who are still some of my closest to this day, and did not return to Boulder. I drifted, did a lot of drugs, tried to "get straight", moved to the country, that didn't work. Somehow managed to get a job as a graphic artist somewhere. I told myself: you hate the corporate world so much but know nothing of it. Try it for a year. See what happens.
I hated it, became suicidal, and eventually OD'd one night on some kind of pills and a bottle of Jack D. Aside from my best friend, Monica, who found me, no one ever knew. When the year was up. I quit. Got a job at a titty bar in the next town. Met a boy who was ordained to be my destiny by an old black bum one night. The boy, JM, was a musician and we began making music together. I saved upa few hundred dollars and one night we just split. We stopped at a pull over in the W. Virgininan mountains and threw our watches over the look out. This relationship and collaboration lasted at least 10 states, one major hurricane, two drug addictions, and a series of noise-art happenings. It ended with an attempt, on his part, to cut off his own head. This was intervened by a band mate who was living in the flat at the time.
Two months later, another mate OD'd on heroine and I lost my mind for the next year or so. I took up painting again. Eventually moving to Portland.
I painted a lot there as well. Another, but less traumatic situation occured, so I moved to CA. Couch surfed and reunited with all my old guy friends from NC. But eventually decided to turn myself over to a Buddhist temple for a year, based on a horoscope in the Aquarian Age which read: I had a dream about you last night. you were riding a lama through the desert. Behind you was the Dalai Lama and in front of you Salvador Dali. The artist whispered into one ear, "Become the beauty that you seek". The Dalai Lama whispered in your other ear, "Serve others. Give up yourself to the universe."
That's the best fucking horoscope I've ever read!
The year there was cool. I met my boyfriend, got accepted to art school, and moved out. I still go there to volunteer sometimes. I'm still marked with everything up til now, what with scars and tattoos and all. I go to CCA. I'm still dancing, running, biking, and all that stuff I did as a kid. Last time I went to visit my mom, I saw Dorian, and we made out, etc. as though time doesn't pass in this bubble between us. We mused about how rediculous it is that we still do this. He asked me to marry him if we don't meet anyone by the time we're 30 - I don't think that's fair, because 1) I don't want to get married and 2) he'll never leave that part of the world and 3) it drags the story out even further.
My life has been pretty fucking crazy and I don't really expect it to slow down any time soon. I still live like I'm 19 and I'm...you do the math.
|
|
|
|
|
|
