Learning To Love You More




Assignment #14
Write your life story in less than a day.

KD Summers
Olympia, Washington USA



I was born on August 4th, 1986 in a hospital in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia to a man from Ohio and a woman from Kota Belud. I remember little of the incident. I drove by the hospital some years later. I remember little of that too. Shortly after my birth my family, which consisted of my mother, my father, and my two older brothers Keith and Lee, relocated to Cape Girardeau, Missouri. I was sent to the Cinnamon Bear Day Care Center. I cried. A lot. This would be the beginning of my homesickness issues. I remember little of Missouri. In fact the only memory I have of the place is of our basement. Our basement was considered the computer and game room. So, in order to find some sort of amusement inside the house one would usually trek down to the basement. This, however, posed a problem for anyone who might find themselves completely terrified of the space. In this case, me. The terrifying circumstances were only intensified by an original song written by my two brothers, aptly name "monsters gonna getcha.'" Our life in Missouri eventually came to an end and my father packed up our family and shipped us back out to Malaysia. We lived in a large house on a hill in Petaling Jaya, Kuala Lumpur. We formed good friends with our neighbors. Our neighbors to the left, the Pais, were an Indian family with three daughters, coincidently similar in age to my siblings and I. They later relocated to Illinois. Years later we would visit them there, watch the Chicago Bulls beat the Indiana Pacers, and eat hot wings at Hooters (under their claim that it was a "wonderful family restaurant.") The neighbor to the right, Abu Bakar, was the son of a prince of a minor territory somewhere in Southeast Asia. He was also my first crush and kiss.
My first kiss. This is how it happened. Or at least how I think it happened. In fact, it may never have happened. It may have simply been some dream or extended fantasy from my past. I, however, tend to believe that it did happen. So, we will say that it did. It was quite simple really. We were chasing each other around my house, or rather I was chasing him around my house, when he ran up the stairs, I followed, caught him, pushed him down, and proceeded to kiss him on the lips. I have since failed to act upon a more aggressive impulse.
The neighbors behind us, the Diemer's, were probably our closest friends. They had two children, a girl and a boy. Our time together was idly spent impersonating ninja turtles, dancing to "Pretty Woman" with folded napkin breasts in local restaurants, and talking on our can and rope telephone line, which crossed from the upstairs of our house, over the ditch, and into the upstairs of their house. They would later move to Indiana.
My father's work allowed for him to send two children to the illustrious American education school ISKL. This meant my two brothers went to one school and I to a completely different one. I, being the left-over child, was sent to Garden International School, the British education school. It was here that I met my best-friend for the next few years, Hannah Baker. I don't remember how we met. In fact, I don't remember much of what we did together. However this is what I do remember of Hannah Baker. She had an older brother who was friends with my brother (a reoccurring theme in my life), she skipped year one (or maybe it was year two) with me because we both took some test and were found to be rather intelligent, she always did better then me on Field Day (a day of sports and such), and she gave me one half of a best friends necklace (which I still have to this day, despite not having spoken to her in over 12 years). Her family later moved to Pennsylvania or maybe Colorado, I don't remember which.
My other memories of living in Kuala Lumpur are rather scattered. I remember I used to run down to our gate every time I heard the ice cream truck and stop the man and plead with my mom to buy me ice cream. I remember the day my dad told me he had run over one of our cats. I remember Keith getting suspended from using the bus because he took apart the seat belts that they had on them. I remember Lee getting in trouble for bringing alcohol to school inside small film canisters. I remember my mom cutting herself after an argument with my dad and me not wanting to leave her with him, but him forcing my brothers to take me to piano lessons. I remember the cat with a hole in her cheek, the housekeeper who stole from us, the two boys who were killed by their house's security guard, our rambutan tree, riding bikes without brakes down our steep hill, and the German/Indonesian family moving into the Pais' house.
During all this time in Malaysia, my family frequently took trips abroad. We traveled to Europe, where I remember very little except for English jam and toast, Madame Tussauds wax museum, Lee peeing in a shoe in Germany, and the salt mines in Salzburg. We went to China. I remember hating it because we ate the same food over and over again (ie duck, rice, and watermelon) and walked a lot. We went to Australia, where I remember being jealous of Lee getting to go snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef while Keith and I, being too young, had to stay on the boat. We also went back every Christmas to see my Dad's parents in Las Vegas, Nevada. I eagerly anticipated our annual trips to Las Vegas as it meant a. casino buffets and b. Nintendo at my grandparent's house. Now, I realize how absolutely shallow this must seem. Obviously my biggest joy should have been that I got to see my grandparents. However, at that age and having lived in Malaysia most of my life, all that mattered to me was American food and games.
Around my third year in school my father decided it was time to move. We had two choices: California or Las Vegas, New Mexico. For the sole reason of snow, we chose Las Vegas. When we first moved to Las Vegas we hadn't bought a house so we stayed in a run-down rental place with a yard full of grasshoppers. We eventually found a place on Lee Drive, conveniently within walking distance to the elementary and middle school Keith and I would attend. I started third grade in Mrs. Padilla's class at Legion Park Elementary School. I slowly grew accustomed to school life in the U.S. Over time I found myself to be quite the tomboy, indulging in games like football, soccer, kickball, and the infamous Ôsmear the queer.' It would be years later until I realized what that meant. At the end of my first year in an American school we had to take the ITDS test (one of those silly standardized tests). I accidentally missed one of the bubbles on the scantron sheet and proceeded to fill in all my answer, oblivious to my mistake. I soon discovered my boo-boo, informed Mrs. Padilla, and soon received very harsh words for a young child new to the American school system. I never really liked Mrs. Padilla after that. Fourth grade put me in Mrs. Price's class. That year would be filled with my eventual obsession with presidents. That year also brought with it my first brush-up with the law. After school I would walk home with two fellow class-mates, Mark and Tatiana, who could both be described as rather misfit-like ruffians (we spent our time trying to light used cigarettes with magnifying glasses.) Walking down the alley behind my house, my fellow misfits and I came across a storage house boarded up. I would like to say that at this time I very much lived in a fantasy world. I never truly liked my life so I made it more exciting and adventurous. Well to me, this storage house was buried treasure and I, a pirate. So, accompanied by Mark and Tatiana, I broke into the storage house and took what I liked (mainly jewelry and such). Well sooner or later the cops found out about the storage room. The three of us agreed to stay clear of the alley so as not to be caught by the police. Mark broke that agreement, was caught, and proceeded to rat me out. Tatiana (the more likely to beat Mark up of the two of us) was not implicated in the matter. Fifth grade brought me to Ms. Lisa Montoya's class. She had a thing for Kevin Sorbo from the tv show Hercules. She was also a camp leader at Camp Elliot Barker, a girl scout camp, and a place I would rather not like to remember. Moving on.
I soon moved on to Memorial Middle School. Many people have told me that middle school was hell and some of the worst years of their lives. I did not have that same experience. In fact, it may have been some of the best years of my life thus far. This was probably due to the fact that I had managed to gain a small group of incredible friends. We were called "the hippies" by some, though I still remain clueless as to why we were named such. We were all quite unique, choosing to stray from the preppy or gangster image that most of our fellow classmates adopted. Our time together was spent playing midnight soccer sessions in the Armand Hammer United World College auditorium, pulling all nighters and climbing up a mountain to see the sunrise, and throwing parties where crazy fights would be followed by weepy apologies. After my stint at Memorial, I found myself at Robertson High School. It was here that I would meet Marguerite Keane, my hero. Ms. Keane was an ex-actress, nicotine gum chewing, crystal light loving, animal saving, eccentric English teacher but even more importantly an incredible mentor and friend. I haven't spoken to her in awhile though and I could really use some of her wisdom right now. High school also brought with it a new friend, Kate Alderete. It was with Kate that I would start making really bad movies and really bad music.
I must note that for a brief 6 months during my freshman year in high school, my dad moved us to Hamilton, New Zealand. I look back now and think of it as a wonderful experience, though at the time I'm sure I thought differently. Key memories of that time in New Zealand include playing a Chopin piece and getting horrible reviews of my performance, getting a B in P.E. (I still don't know the reason behind the grading scale), hanging out with the rebel girl of the school (our friendship lasted one day and ended when she later learned that I didn't spend my time back in the states smoking pot and getting drunk), my first concert (Frenzal Rhomb), and for the first time realizing my social ineptness. After those six months, we moved back to Las Vegas and I finished up 9th grade over there.
After 10th grade, my father once again decided to move, this time to Columbus, GA. I think I will stop here because life really has stayed the same since then (with exception to my 5 weeks of heaven in France). You see, my social ineptness has only increased and I find myself unable to converse with people. This leads to a rather mundane lifestyle. I have since (as in two weeks ago) moved to Olympia, Washington, where I hope to start a new life. My goal: to form actual relationships with other people, to avoid failure, and to find some sort of purpose in life.