My Mom Is Always Right (or I Hate You All, You Ruined My Life)

Today, I was waiting for my friends in the park, and I sat down on a bench next to this really old black guy. I'm not sure if he was homeless or not, because his clothes were all right, but he smelled kind of rank. But I'm not writing this post about homeless people. I'll save that for another time.

I said Good morning to the guy, and he sort of smiled and said Good morning back. There was a band playing, and I was just going to sit there and write and listen to the music (I've started my graveyard story). But then the old guy leans over to me and says, "Hey, are you Catholic? Or are you Evangelical?" Now, usually, I have a whole song and dance about how I don't really have a named religion, and then we get into this discussion about whether I believe in God or not, and it's a giant mess. So, instead, I just said that I was Catholic. So he says, "That's good. There are a lot of Evangelicals in Hell right now, repenting for sinning." I don't really have a response to comments like that, so I just sort of nodded. It's my all-purpose defense against people who say stupid things to me.

We're sitting there for a while, and out of nowhere, the guy asks where I'm from. I tell him the United States, and he says, "Say, there's going to be a new government there, isn't there?" Everyone knows about Obama. I told him about how I hoped this president would be better than the last, and so that was nice.

Then the old guy starts asking me about which church I go to. The band was playing then, so I couldn't really make out the words the first few times, but eventually I got the message and said the Iglesia del Quinche, or the Divino Niño. He seemed satisfied by the answer, and since the band was really loud, we didn't say anything until they finished. Then, he asked me what sounded like an incredibly loaded question, Did I like the music? I said yes, and he asked if I thought there was music in Heaven. I said that God gave us the ability to make music, because I wasn't really sure where he was going with that. He sort of ignored me, and said that the music in Heaven was way better than the band playing here, because there were heavenly quires and all the best musicians who ever lived. I was very tempted to make a comment about Azathoth dancing to his mad pipers, but I didn't think he'd get it.

We sort of droned on and on for a while. Well, he droned, and I sort of nodded. But the general focus of this conversation is that my mom is always right about everything. It's not that hard to talk to people, and if you try, it's actually pretty likely that they've been trying to find someone who would listen to them for some time. We'll see if I talk to more people in the future. I dunno.

In an unrelated and more depressing piece (although I have to work to get more depressing than Azathoth eating your brain),

I'm sick of everything. I'm sick of not having internet. I'm sick of having to do Virtual School, and especially Gym class in Virtual School. I'm sick of trying to do Virtual School and the internet not working. I'm sick of having to go to regular school, especially since it's art school. I'm sick of teachers who think they're God with a paintbrush, especially when half of the stuff they tell us is wrong. I'm sick of my art not working out (although this is offset somewhat by my writing). I'm sick of waking up at 5:45 dead tired because I went to sleep at 10:45 the night before, and then listening to my stupid Painting teacher tell me if I really love art, I'd get up at 1AM and paint. I'm sick of the other kids who laugh at my English because they're so bad at it, and my Spanish because I'm so good at it that it stands out when I make a mistake. I'm sick of Sara showing up when she feels like it and then acting superior because most of the teachers treat her like she's made of gold. I'm sick of Johannes acting like he's God's gift to women, because he's white and can play the guitar. I'm sick of Hannes not giving me back my flash drive, even though he's had it for almost four months now. I'm sick of Camille having problems with her family, especially since now Anita and Grace want me to talk to her about it. I'm sick of Grace trying to shove responsibility for Daniele not having a family onto Lotta's family, and causing a whole host of problems for Lotta. I'm sick of AFS forcing Anita to get receipts for every ten cent phone call and then refusing to pay for this or that because of some reason or another. I'm sick of the circles under my eyes and the plaque on my teeth. I'm sick of my short hair and the fact that the inspector's going to make me cut it soon enough anyway. I'm sick of the insect that buzzes around my ear at night and won't let me sleep, and the insect bites I get from said insect.

But I'm also glad for some things. I'm glad for Rodrigo and Chooki, who I can go and play basketball with any time of night. I'm glad for the mountains, which are still I think some of the most beautiful things ever, even if I hate painting them. I'm glad for sunsets, for giving me a reason not to hate painting entirely. I'm glad for Anita, who woke up this morning at 5:45 to make sure I woke up on time, and then made me breakfast. I'm glad for Rosita, whose mother just had a bad turn, but is slowly recovering. I'm glad for Carolina, who still blushes every time I make a joke about Chooki being her boyfriend (he's not, but it's still funny). I'm glad for Andrea, who thinks I own English and laughs at all my really bad jokes. I'm glad for my friends back home (NY and FL), even though I don't get to talk to them as much as I'd like. I'm glad for my friends from MITES, who are always up to talk with me and share weird internet sites and music. I'm glad for my parents, who always take the time to talk me down from the metaphorical cliff whenever I call up in the middle of school, nearly in tears and paying $1.50/min for an international call. I'm glad for EXTRABREAD, the bread store next to the internet store about a block from my house, that sells the most amazing fresh-baked bread ever. I'm glad for the Chinese food place about two blocks from my house, where they don't even bring me the menu anymore because I always order the same thing (if you ask me, Mixto Especial con Cola Mediana is the food of the gods). I'm glad for my teachers who like me and let me out of class early (I know English. I don't need to be there.). I'm glad the Indigenous people are strong enough to have a strike that'll shut down all inter-city traffic tomorrow (Yes. Yes, they can. Hopefully, I'll be able to get pictures.) so I don't have to go to school. I'm glad Obama's going to be sworn in tomorrow as the President of the United States. I'm glad for Steinbeck, who writes amazing things (Tortilla Flats FTW). I'm glad I got into MIT already, and I don't have to worry about other schools so much. I'm glad people comment on my blog, too.

I think that's about everything. Peace out, guys.

¡Ciao!