From washed follicles to 10 toes with socks on.
Friday, 01/11/02 - 10:48 am.

I still wonder where that fuckin' sock could be. I doubt I'll find it before I leave. No, Simeon, no....of course I don't expect to find it after I leave. Poor sock. It'll stay here. I'll tell the kids to make a puppet with it, if they find it........No, I don't, Simeon! I don't suck. It sucks. It sucks for getting lost, I didn't lose it. I know where I put it. Socks are probably like the toys and they have lives. Disney and Pixar's Sock Story.

Joy to the world, my hair is long. Finally. I got my last haircut in july, after the sad incident with The Guy. Anyway, don't you love it when one morning you see yourself in the mirror and go: hey, it's finally growing? Well, I sometimes happen to hate it, because one sometimes happens to hate one's hair. Curly wants it straight, straight wants it curly.

If I recall correctly, hair grows 1 or 2 cm. every month. I often find myself -or Simeon- wondering how and why some female stars have short hair and by the next month, it's like 6-months long. Yeah, yeah...extensions, most likely. First hair, then nose, then breasts....the point is: my hair is long again! It's naturally long (well, not "that" long, kind of like Steven's in the Get A Grip era).

Everytime I bitch about my hair, mom goes: well, at least thank God that you've got plenty of hair. Yeah, well....she's right. I'd hate it if I had little hair. I'm glad I'm not -in words of Steven Tyler-: follicly challenged.

What kinda sucks it's that nails and hair grow, but if you cut your entire finger, you never get it back. Though if you get a papercut, the wound closes after a few days, which proves that one's body makes its efforts to stay complete. But why not growing the whole finger? I wonder what would have happened if doctors hadn't sewed together my finger when I slashed it, years, years ago. It'd have been funny if another finger had grown out of my wound....I'd have 11 fingers. *Simeon shakes fingers with an intrigued look in his eyes*.

Of course you have only eight fingers, Simeon. You're a cartoon. But putting aside this gross visual of growing fingers in wounds like Chia Pets, it's always heart-warming when you hear someone go: it has 10 fingers and 10 toes!!!!. Aaaww...

It was a big crisis. It's a major thing when you're growing something with a woman, but they convinced us that Diana was too young and it would never work out and would ruin our lives. They said: "will you do it?" And we said: "yeah, let's do it". You go to the doctors and they put the needle in her belly and they squeeze the stuff in and you watch. And it comes out dead. I was pretty devastated. In my mind I'm going: "Jesus, what have I done?"

So if there's a heaven and hell, I definitely have a little hell to go thru (....). It affected me later when I tried to get my real wife pregnant. I thought we'd give birth to a six-headed cow (...). The real life guilt was very traumatic for me. Still hurts. - Steven Tyler.

And it was a boy.

Just for the record, he's got four beautiful kids: Liv, Mia, Chelsea and Taj. And no, I'm not the kind of female Aerosmith fan who goes: my soon-to-be stepchildren. I love Steven but...I just don't dream of stupid things like Steven seeing me and leaving Teresa for me....duh. Plus, they make a great couple. I just wish I could meet him and the rest of the band and we'd hang out for a while (ok, now that's...that's almost as stupid and as impossible as the "Steven will fall in love with me" thing above, forget it).

This morning, Renan and I were talking and he goes...I don't have friends. "I don't have friends"? Do you imagine how much that broke my heart? He's 9 years old, he should be playing with kids his age. On the other hand, all of those kids are assholes. For what I've seen and heard, they're brainless teenagers, only smaller....hey, then if there are teenagers that are like kids, only taller, then there must be a pattern....it's gotta be the same sub-species, part of the Homo-Sapiens virus.....ugh....my pop-tart just exploded in the microwave, all the stuff is out...*Simeon opens the microwave door and looks closely to the chocolate chip pop-tart and all its stuff outside*....

Anyway...I'm really sorry his one and only best friend is in NY (before Houston, they were living in Long Island, NY). He talked to him on the phone last night....for 20 minutes!!! Now, those kids are friends. It's sad that he doesn't play with anybody in recess (some of his few friends, like Blake and Alexis, play "Dragon Ball" and they hit each other...his female friends hang out with...well, females, and you know how elementary school kids are with the ones who hang out with the opposite sex) but then I started thinking that he's a bit like me. Maybe more than "a bit". Starting out from his personality: quiet, shy, "ok" to everybody, "yes, it's ok if we do it your way", "if that's what you want"...I mean, he's someone who could easily get picked on, someone anybody could take advantage of his goodness. I never got picked on at school. In the beggining, yes, but if someone called me names, I'd punch-him-with-my-pencilcase. Plus, I was the only one with a bottle of water so "if you want to drink some of my water, stop being mean to me". It worked. *sigh*, poor me...what did I know about the word 'fuck' back then....

So, he's quiet. But he can explode when he's mad...yell, throw things at everybody, and then -sometimes- break down and cry with frustration. And at this point of my toughts, while I was putting on my socks (other pair), I understood kids with guns. I mean, some of them. The ones that have no other choice to keep "mean" kids from pickin' on them. It's not their fault. They're reacting to something. To someone.

Maybe "overreacting", may be, but it's a response, the only response they can give. I'm not saying it's good but it's the only thing they can do to protect themselves. At school it's only you and the rest of the kids. Teachers are only there to stuff your head with what the program says. Ok, no more going deep on this. The thing is....well, Renan. Sometimes I don't want to let him go on the bus. But then, again, I think of myself...and he, like me, like any other kid like us, will survive, it's the instinct. He's done it already: I just stay away from them because they hit each other.

Of course he doesn't want to get hit! Getting hit just because is not "manly", it's plainly lame and stupid. I'm afraid he'll someday get hurt, because someday he might want to play a game with them and they won't let him (it happened a few weeks ago here, with Rebeca and their friend Mark, they played clubhouse and didn't let him in). But hey, don't we all get hurt sometimes? DON'T WE ALL GET FUCKING HURT?!? We do. And if he's like me -he does act a lot like me- he'll find his way out. He'll get hurt and he'll move on. He'll learn that 95% of the people suck 70% of the time. He'll start seeing the world his own way, based on what he's experienced, not based on what his friends want him to think because it's manly. He's growing up. He's going to make it. Fuck the dumb kids from Rummel Creek Elementary. Of course I don't want him to get hurt, but that's life. All I can do is trust that he's smart and strong enough to pull all that shit off. He is...and if he's not, he will be. That's what learning is all about.

On a happier note, Denise told him that his head smelled not-good this morning. So he went to the bathroom and 2 minutes later he showed his head to Denise...it was wet. Smells good, what did you do?, she asked. I washed my head in the sink, he answered. I'm so proud of you, kid (*tear in left eye*).

So...it's time to say good-bye for now, as time swallows with a painful speed my last weekday in Houston. *Simeon blows nose with grief*. As much as I miss my home, my family and Frog, I want to stay here. I want to stay with them. I want to see the kids grow, I want to be here to help them. Hell, maybe one day I'll get Renan to have his own diary. When he's officially a "teen".

And for now...*Simeon removes his Marvin-The-Martian top hat and makes a reverence* it's time to play polka. Featuring Simeon, on the kazooie.

prev / next