2001-09-15|5:01 p.m.
I don�t really know what to write about. I am tired of talking about the whole �tragedy of America.� So, I decided to give a brief autobiography of myself. Feel free to nod off or skip this section all together---that is if you even read this thing anymore.
I was born in Southern California in 1981 in a city called Walnut. The first street I ever lived on was called Camino De La Rosa and my first dog�s name was Sandy (named after Annie�s dog in the play/movie Annie). I guess that would make my porn name (dog�s name + first street's name = porn name) Sandy De La Rosa.
My dad worked as an ironworker as soon as I was born, knowing he could make more money doing that to take care of a family. My mom throughout my life has worked small jobs or not worked depending on her ability to do so. Both of my parents met through my grandma, my dad�s mom, and they dated for a year or so, married, and waited until they were both in their thirties to have me their first child. My dad was married before in his early twenties but it did not last long and he did not have children.
My dad is an amazing man. When I was growing up he recited whole pages of Shakespeare to me, taught me those most amazing words and their meanings, took me out sailing, and loved me more than anyone on earth could, I suppose. My father is self-taught in almost everything he knows, and continues to impress me all the time.
He owned and sailed his own boat, learned how to fly, became one of the most skilled ironworkers in California, saved many people�s lives (like the one time, of several others, he helped this family out of their burning home and helped keep the fire low until the fire fighters came), made several of my Halloween costumes while growing up many of which required sewing, collected antiques which filled our house, had two green houses with exotic plants which he loved, cooked amazing meals, and many other things. My father also never made money into the triple digits and never went past a year in college. He also had a terrible temper. All of these things are merely a glimpse into which my father is and was, but every bit of it shaped what and who I am.
My mother�s life was hollowed out by a lot of anger and abuse that she had received while growing up. She was depressed most of the time, and would stay in bed until late in the afternoon if she could. I loved my mother, but could never seem to penetrate the distance and anger she had towards life while I grew up. For this, she has always had a remote place in my life, however important.
I grew up with a lot of attention. I was the first grandchild born for my dad�s parents, and the first girl child for my mom�s parents. I always had a lot of toys but my favorites were always the junk that I would create out of trash and things. Since my parents were very, almost overly, protective of me, I had almost no friends come to play with me growing up. It wasn�t till I was in my early teens that I would have sleepovers and hang out with other kids at their homes or my own. So, I imagined a lot. I�d build traps to capture tigers by digging holes and covering them with sticks and leaves (and get in trouble for them). I�d make fairy people who would live within my dad�s green houses among the beautiful orchids. These times are my fondest.
When I was almost six my brother J was born. Because of another family rift between my mother and her family there was a lot of stress following, yet unrelated, his birth. My parents began to fight much more than usual and my dad confessed a huge secret to my mother and me.
Will continue later�.