Shakira’s the nickname I meant living up to. I can sort of do that, but no, that goal’s not entirely finished until I bust a move in 20 years from now, hoping that even only one soul compares it! (Lol, entirely not happening, but bear with me.)
Though I have countless nicknames (mostly pointless ones), the main one is ‘Freedom’... I’ve been called that for 8 years now, because my brother just so happens to be named after our father, who’s named after his father, who had his name changed when he came to America, who somehow got the very certain full given name of Braveheart (because it was more ‘Americanized’ than Verlotto: Tell me, how? In a country full of Przylblyk’s and Hajdukiewicz?!). So everyone who knows my dad/brother call them Braveheart, and when people say “Freedom!” about the subject, it just kind of got stuck to me.
It used to embarrass me to no end. The entire male track team knew my brother, and most of them were in my senior year psychology class. Every day, David came in and acted out the freedom segment before collapsing onto the floor beside my desk. And normally, when the teacher walked in, she’d look at me like I did something to initiate it. And after class, anyone from the team who saw me would scream it into the hallway, no matter how far away I was. This brought on teachers and others calling me it, most of them not realizing why, let alone why Dave and his craaaazzy idiots had to yell it in a very certain unbearable way!
For a while I was living it up without choice. I am apparently a walking symbol of the dying quote of “FREEEEEEEEEEDDOOMMM!!!” ...
Today I got laughed at by my ‘best friend’ for being Freedom, but not being so free. Unfortunately, it’s so true! My high school friends would die over this. I’ve become everyone’s personal assistant, it’s almost laughable. In fact, it should be a completely seperate goal: break free of my shackles!
In fact, this reminds me that the other day, I did my little sister’s Medievil castle project, because the guidelines said “help from friends and family encouraged!”... My sister got lazy, and my parents decided that the interior designer in me could create a castle entirely out of foam core. Many cuts from box cutters later, I succeeded. But not after I’d spent 3 nights past 5am doing and redoing, cutting and fitting and painting and drawing… My parents actually told me that my sister was not doing any cutting—leaving the entire thing up to me. When I asked her to please do her project, she glued the wrong pieces together, got pissed off, stormed off, and never came back. All this for driving my sister to school every morning since I’ve been living at home again AND for doing her project.
(Speaking of which, I wish I had my transfer USB by now, I’m very proud of the castle and did take pictures!)
That’s not even it, that’s just a random vent, because I need one, apparently? I’m jokingly a slave though, according to my friends, because I’m always engaged in something that generally shouldn’t be my responsibility.
So why can’t Freedom be free? That is, if I’m going to be freedom at all. Hooray for longest 43t-entry ever.
