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WTF?

 

 

I said it in the intro, and I'll say it again.  I'm not an author.  I have thought about how/where/when to start telling my story.  Do I start from birth? Do I just tell random stories about my life?  These are the kind of stupid ass thoughts that constantly go through my head, especially when planning...well, anything really.  These are the thoughts that will literally stop me dead in my tracks because the Virgo in me likes structure and planning...and without a plan, no task or goal of mine will ever commence.  This is a trait of mine that will literally stress me out so badly, I end up not moving forward with several things in my life.  Things that I know could've potentially been huge for me.  I’m going to step out of my comfort zone (deep breath) and just start with my childhood, or what I remember of it.

Obviously, I have no recollection of my birth, or even my first few years of life; however, a part of me feels like I do thanks to my dad.  I have heard the stories of my early years so many times that I feel like I remember them at times.

Let me stop there and give you a little insight into my dad and his personality.  I now understand a lot more about why I am the way that I am.  Not only do I look like my dad, apparently, I think and talk like he does too.  My dad isn't afraid of hurting anyone's feelings.  I'm not either.  We will both call it how we see it, like it or not.  The difference between us is that I try to use as much tact as possible.  My intentions are never to hurt anyone's feelings, but I'm not going to lie to protect them either.  My dad on the other hand, is going to call it how he sees it also, only very rarely will there be any tact. If your feelings get hurt, so be it.  You'll get over it.

Let me tell you the story of my birth, in my dad's words.  We'll start my story there.

My parents were both good looking people.  My mom used to model for Mattel as a Barbie Doll and my dad was a brown haired, brown eyed, dark-skinned Electrician.  They met at Knott's Berry Farm in Anaheim, CA when they were 17 and 14. For those of you that don't know, Knott's Berry Farm is kind of like a knock off Disneyland; an amusement park.  Both of my parents worked there as teenagers.  My mom worked the hot dog stand and my dad ran the log ride.  They also went to the same high school.  My dad was a typical high school boy - car building, drag racing, prank pulling little shit, I'm sure.  My mom, the blonde, cheerleader, prom queen.  Two high school sweethearts who would later become husband and wife.

A couple years into their marriage, they decided it was time to bring me into the world.  They were never vain in any way, but they had to know that they were good-looking people. At least everybody else seemed to know.  So, I'm sure that their friends and family were expecting them to have this picture-perfect little baby as well.  Little did they know what they were in for.

"Congratulations...." says the doctor as he held me up to show the proud new parents.  "It's a..."

The doctor was mid-sentence when my dad's not so tactful voice chimed in.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

Ahhh...the very first words I will ever hear. The room fell silent.  The doctors and nurses froze in shock, quite possibly fear, not sure how to respond to my unfiltered father's comment.  I can only imagine the thoughts going through their minds.

".....IS I WRONG WITH HER FACE?" Daddy dearest continued.

Sometimes I sit and wonder about the things I've gone through in life or why I am the way that I am.  Then I'm reminded of this story and no longer wonder.  I'm pretty sure that lovely, red-carpet rollout kind of welcome would be the starting point, and a good indication as to how the rest of my life was going to go.  Like a spell cast upon me that very instant, by my own father, so began the curse.

Bell’s Palsy: a condition that causes temporary facial paralysis in newborns. The good news is that doctors learned something new about Bell’s Palsy that day. They learned that Bell’s Palsy also causes temporary Tourette's in the parents of the kids born with this condition. So, you're welcome science!

I had come into this world looking like I had a stroke.

As I'm writing this story, I’m laughing to myself because I can still see my dad holding his hand up to his face as to divide it vertically between his eyes.  He would do this every time he told this story of my warm welcome.

"She came out crying..." his hand still dividing his face.  He would pause right there and would begin to animate only half of his face to mimic what mine looked like when I was born.  

..."and only half of her face cried." He would continue as one side of his face appeared to be crying, the other half completely motionless.

Compton, California is where this magical day took place.  I often wondered why Compton.  One of the most notorious cities in the world, infamous for its hardcore gang violence.  I figured that my parents were on their way somewhere when my mom's water broke, and they had no other choice but to go to the nearest hospital.

There are maybe 5 white people in the entire town of Compton and most of them were delivering mail or lost.  Point being, you don't fuck around in Compton unless you have an in with someone.  Not a place you want to be roaming around if you're not from there...especially if you're white.

Not only did I wonder what the fuck my parents were doing in Compton, I often wondered why they named me what they did.  Pretty much everyone in my family has some girly, rhyming name.  Shari Lynn, Marla Lynn, Jacquelin, etc.  You know, typical "basic white girl" names.  Surely the location and the name had to be some sort of weird fluke I didn't understand.

Nope, not only was the hospital planned, but the name was also. 

CASEY DIONE. 

What the actual fuck?  I thought about this for years.  I never believed my parents actually planned all this shit.  So I came up with my own conclusions: either my parents had a gang affiliation that they never owned up to, or the free-love/drug use era finally got to their heads.  That’s because after me, they went back to the rhyming names and named my sister Carrie Lynn.

I guess the drugs my parents were on finally wore off that day. No, I don't mean epidural drugs either.  I mean whatever elephant-tranquilizing quaaludes my parents were consuming because a few months later we moved to Orange County, CA

And this is where my life began....