Me Llamas Ramone

Today has been another stressful Saturday for me. I get stressed on the weekends because that's when family get togethers are common. It seems that my family's fortunes have really been shat on again and again, and it always breaks my heart to hear what the latest shit sandwich is. Mustard please. My 400 pound brother is________. My sick, disabled, and mental health problemed elderly father is________. My oldest sister is about to: A) loose her home B) have heart problems C) husband still won't get a job D) son is getting held back a grade E) psycho, drug addict mother-in-law is compounding the whole deal. Fortunately, my other two sisters are doing fine, but the single one lives by herself and I worry for her all the time. My mother just runs around constantly, trying to do her best to stay away from dad.

It feels as if I've taken a few glass-laced Brillo pads, lit them on fire, then swallowed them down. I'm not bowing, that's called a "Ahfak, I'm 100% Hydrochloric Acid!" stretching technique. I've got my own major life problems to deal with. I'm the baby of the family, but I'm their mediator. No one can communicate with my dad like I can, because anyone else usually runs away crying, including my 400 pound hulk of "He aint heavy, he's my brother". My dad has progressed in the past two years, but still can't lift his arms past his shoulders and still has his moments of panic and depression. At least I don't have to wheel him around anymore. Now he has a cane and likes to hit shit with it and make strangers angry. My dad was a sergeant First Class during Korea and knows how to manipulate, yell, and just make you feel small. The idea was to tear them down, then build them up. He never gets around to the last part. He hasn't been able to work since the eighties, due to all of his health problems. Or, that's what his line is, anyways.

Why did I come last and late into these people's lives? Why can't I have been born to someone else? Like, I could be feeding off of Angelina Jolies' teat right now. Hell, she's got enough to go around. The answer is simple: Even though you and yours are flawed, you still love them. I know for a fact that I'll probably be burying my dad in the next decade, if not sooner. My brother will probably come right after him, if he doesn't change his ways. My oldest sister will probably be killed off by her insane in-law ma and manchild hubby. That leaves my mother and two sisters. My mother's mother and her mother have all died with dementia, so she's got that to look forward to. As usual, my two middle sisters will make out okay. As for me, look at all the material I have to work with.

Today, I tried my best to bliss out. I went and watched some horses run around in a field. One male was getting frisky and tried to mount a mare. The mare kept backing up into him to push him off. The stud didn't get the drift until the mare gave him a swift kick in the chest. The stud ran away whinnying. I learned a lesson there.

I went to my favorite Mexican restaurant, the one with the old lady who obsesses about me. I watched an NBA game, had some food, and tried to get the Brillos to stop burning (Mexican food was not a good choice). This old chica stood there and talked to me, like I was a regular pachucco. She wondered why I don't speak Espanol, and I explained to her that I knew many bad words and had taken Espanol in 8th grade. I added that my assigned name in that class was "Ramone". She laughed and said that she would help me with my Espanol. She's going to call me Ramone from now on.

Nothing worked today, until I listened. Something about a woman's voice is so soothing. I don't care that it came from an old Mexican lady, either. The vocal patterns of a woman are so lyrical, I have a hard time remembering what they say. The music in their voice is what I hear, and that is what I needed today to quench my burning Brillos.

P.S. I could barely stand to reveal that much about my problems and my family, so please, don't ask me to elaborate.