September 2
Dear New-Journal,
So, my old diary of about 2 years has finally kicked it. So, allow me to introduce myself, O Blank-Book-Purchased-For-Half-Price-At-The-Mall. The name is Bradley Shoun Mochizawa, age 19, Cancer on the cusp of Leo. I suppose that would sum everything up, but I know it doesn't. I was named after Mom's cousin who died when she was about my age, and after dad's Grandfather. "Mochizawa" betrays my half-Japanese heritage, and "dad" betrays my hatred for my father.
Mom and dad split when I was nine or ten. She couldn't take him anymore, or she was too "American". I don't remember. Dad went back to Japan and took Renee, my younger sister with him. I haven't seen either of them for a decade. I couldn't care less about the old bastard, but I miss Renee. Maybe if I actually graduate high school, I'll try and find her in Japan. I remember getting a birthday card from her back after the divorce. I think they still live there. I hope.
Another fact that was reveled - I have yet to graduate. I guess cutting way back in ninth and tenth grade, plus some of the partying I used to do fucked that up. Nothing heavy. I did pot a few times (like twice) and I smoke occasionally. My vice is drink though, but I don't do it to get smashed, just buzzed at parties.
My "wildness" came into being after the divorce, I suppose. No one really liked me at school, so after it I'd hand out at the skate parks and try to board or blade. I guess I'm good at it, but I recently got into surfing. That is my passion. Anyways, no one at the park really paid attention to me, except for some eighth-grade kids who became my friends.
By the time I reached high school, I had most of my piercings and I was cutting more then going to school. After all the guys graduated, we just kinda fell apart, I guess. They all went north to Oregon and Washington (I live in San Diego, just a little outside the city) for college. A few of them have to work to support families that came into being nine months after prom night. We still see each other and chill, but between trying to graduate and work (I'm finally a licensed piercer) I don't really have that much time, and whatever I have left I spent on the half pipes and shit.
Another thing to know about me, before I call it a day - I'm Wiccan. Mom is too. After dad left she kinda went back into her hippie ways. The pot smoking never left, nor did her occasional promiscuity. She's cleaned up a lot, actually. She has a steady boyfriend, some guy named Roger (we hardly talk, but he's alright, I guess). Anyways, I was never confirmed or anything, so she just left me to "grow into my own path". At 15 I found some of her books on the subject, and here I am today. and so is Mom's coven. While we celebrate the same faith, I'm not involved in her coven for one simple reason. 13 naked middle-aged men and women, including Mom and Roger. and "Rog" is rather. large. Not my cup of tea, so I'll be seeing a movie now.
September 6 Dear Journal,
I feel like Doug Funnie. Not much happened today, or yesterday. not sure. It's fucking late. Drew kept me late at the shop because it was so busy. Apparently people get more mods done in the summer. Made a shit load today though, I love being paid by commission.
My head's been killing me for the past few. I've been getting sick too, which is not fun. I tried some holistic healing techniques I've read for trying to diagnose the problem. Parts of my abdomen feel hard. My guess is gas or something. So I guess no more taco binges for me.
Not much happened all week actually. I'm working on a Government report, which I have to present to the class. I hate Mr. Sullivan because he makes us do that "get-up-in-front-of-the-class" bit. I'm not a public speaker ar all.
September 16
I hate my job? No, I don't. The money is great, and the people are okay. One of the guys, although she's a chick, is retiring, so I'm going to be taught how to tattoo. That rocks. The paper is shit. I still feel sick. I thought I was getting rashes or something, because my sick was getting rough and nasty when I was taking care of my board, but I suppose it was something else. Maybe I brushed up against poison ivy again. but then I should still have it. Weird.
September 24
My buddy Dave's b-day. Party, fun while it lasted. We had to bail out early because his 'rents were coming home early from their second honey moon - yet another younger sibling was introduced to the world. Things didn't get fucked up, but he's going to have to explain why the liquor cabinet's half empty.
September 28 Oh shit. Today was horrible. Today sucked. I'm so fucking scared. I was giving the report today, and it was going fine, until the teach went outside to flirt with a security guard (chick). That asshole Martins (arch- nemesis since kindergarten) slammed the door shut and he and his jock asshole friends started pelting me with the fucking bagels Sullivan brought in today. They were fucking screaming at me, the whole class got into it. It was like Carrie or something. Then one of the desks was hurled at me. I don't remember what happened after that too clear, except for the fact that the desk was totaled, and I wasn't even bruised. The class was shut up, the teach managed to get in, but everyone was completely stock still. I just bolted. I'm still feeling sick. Mom hasn't come home, but the school called like five times. I hope no one comes by or anything. I just want to be left alone. Fucking 3rd period was never this bad.
Later September 28
I think today unlocked some very horrible memories, which unlocked strange change in my body. When ever I think of anything bad, my body changes. I'm not talking about like I begin sweating or something, I mean it changes from flesh and blood to something else. I was told by a friend that saw the "incident," I looked like I was metal in the classroom, but I was getting sick before, and I turned into porcelain, I swear. My hand disappeared too, but I could still feel it, and then it came back. Did it turn into air? As interesting as this is it's the most fucking disturbing thing.
October 1
Some guy from the east coast called today at noon-ish. I haven't been going to school since. then. He said he's like to visit me and "discuss my future," so I'm hoping he isn't from a freak show or anything. People have been outside for most of the first day, but they've all disappeared. Jimmy, the guy who saw me, doesn't even remember what happened. I haven't told Mom, so the only proof that I have is the fact that parts of me turn into not-me. It was very fucked up how I woke up with literal "morning wood."
October 3
East-Coast man appeared today. Or should I say, Professor Charles Xavier, who turns out to be some bald guy in a wheel chair. He also had with him some black lady with a weird name and absolutely white hair, this is odd because she looked like she was about 30. They talked to Mom and I. Apparently, I am what they call a "mutant." Mom had apparently heard about this phenomena from a Biology professor she's friends with (Mom's chairperson of Asian studies at a local college), but it's only theory, which I'm supposing isn't as theoretical as she believed. Apparently this Xavier guy has a school for "gifted youngsters, such as myself" and he wants to "unify man and mutant kind" by having "us" hone our powers and show the world that "the rising number of mutants aren't a threat." Apparently there are a few reports but nothing conclusive to this, so the school is just a "boarding house and a place to further studies for students that meet the criteria of the school." I like how he doesn't mention being a freak was one of the prerequisites. He already has a group of kids there, about 20.
I guess I'll go, I dunno why, but something in my gut is telling me too. That and when I was going to reject, I guess I turned into the water I was drinking, because I melted.
October 5
Back pack full of books - check. Discman - check. Laptop - check. Cell phone - check. Luggage - in the cargo of the plane. check. Off I go into the wild blue yonder. Off I g to West Chester New York, or rather the town of Bayville, right outside of it. I hate early morning flights. The rest of my shit's being mailed. I wish the Atlantic had great waves, but it doesn't, so I didn't bother to have my surf board sent. skating is the way to go here.
October 6
I've been here for a little under a day, and I guess it's okay. Some other new kids are here too. Some of the best people thus far are a girl from Roanoke, Virginia named Tabitha who can make things go "boom," a guy, Ray, from New York that's a living bug-zapper who's always hanging around Tabbie and this guy who's blue and fuzzy... I like his fur, didn't get his name though. This short red-head tackled him out of nowhere.
Not much happened except getting the grand tour and getting the rules. The food's not bad, and the rooms are nice. My room mate is weird though. He's almost always at the computer or playing video games. I'm not much of an extrovert, and I apparently don't register on his radar. I hope we at least tolerate each other.
So, my old diary of about 2 years has finally kicked it. So, allow me to introduce myself, O Blank-Book-Purchased-For-Half-Price-At-The-Mall. The name is Bradley Shoun Mochizawa, age 19, Cancer on the cusp of Leo. I suppose that would sum everything up, but I know it doesn't. I was named after Mom's cousin who died when she was about my age, and after dad's Grandfather. "Mochizawa" betrays my half-Japanese heritage, and "dad" betrays my hatred for my father.
Mom and dad split when I was nine or ten. She couldn't take him anymore, or she was too "American". I don't remember. Dad went back to Japan and took Renee, my younger sister with him. I haven't seen either of them for a decade. I couldn't care less about the old bastard, but I miss Renee. Maybe if I actually graduate high school, I'll try and find her in Japan. I remember getting a birthday card from her back after the divorce. I think they still live there. I hope.
Another fact that was reveled - I have yet to graduate. I guess cutting way back in ninth and tenth grade, plus some of the partying I used to do fucked that up. Nothing heavy. I did pot a few times (like twice) and I smoke occasionally. My vice is drink though, but I don't do it to get smashed, just buzzed at parties.
My "wildness" came into being after the divorce, I suppose. No one really liked me at school, so after it I'd hand out at the skate parks and try to board or blade. I guess I'm good at it, but I recently got into surfing. That is my passion. Anyways, no one at the park really paid attention to me, except for some eighth-grade kids who became my friends.
By the time I reached high school, I had most of my piercings and I was cutting more then going to school. After all the guys graduated, we just kinda fell apart, I guess. They all went north to Oregon and Washington (I live in San Diego, just a little outside the city) for college. A few of them have to work to support families that came into being nine months after prom night. We still see each other and chill, but between trying to graduate and work (I'm finally a licensed piercer) I don't really have that much time, and whatever I have left I spent on the half pipes and shit.
Another thing to know about me, before I call it a day - I'm Wiccan. Mom is too. After dad left she kinda went back into her hippie ways. The pot smoking never left, nor did her occasional promiscuity. She's cleaned up a lot, actually. She has a steady boyfriend, some guy named Roger (we hardly talk, but he's alright, I guess). Anyways, I was never confirmed or anything, so she just left me to "grow into my own path". At 15 I found some of her books on the subject, and here I am today. and so is Mom's coven. While we celebrate the same faith, I'm not involved in her coven for one simple reason. 13 naked middle-aged men and women, including Mom and Roger. and "Rog" is rather. large. Not my cup of tea, so I'll be seeing a movie now.
September 6 Dear Journal,
I feel like Doug Funnie. Not much happened today, or yesterday. not sure. It's fucking late. Drew kept me late at the shop because it was so busy. Apparently people get more mods done in the summer. Made a shit load today though, I love being paid by commission.
My head's been killing me for the past few. I've been getting sick too, which is not fun. I tried some holistic healing techniques I've read for trying to diagnose the problem. Parts of my abdomen feel hard. My guess is gas or something. So I guess no more taco binges for me.
Not much happened all week actually. I'm working on a Government report, which I have to present to the class. I hate Mr. Sullivan because he makes us do that "get-up-in-front-of-the-class" bit. I'm not a public speaker ar all.
September 16
I hate my job? No, I don't. The money is great, and the people are okay. One of the guys, although she's a chick, is retiring, so I'm going to be taught how to tattoo. That rocks. The paper is shit. I still feel sick. I thought I was getting rashes or something, because my sick was getting rough and nasty when I was taking care of my board, but I suppose it was something else. Maybe I brushed up against poison ivy again. but then I should still have it. Weird.
September 24
My buddy Dave's b-day. Party, fun while it lasted. We had to bail out early because his 'rents were coming home early from their second honey moon - yet another younger sibling was introduced to the world. Things didn't get fucked up, but he's going to have to explain why the liquor cabinet's half empty.
September 28 Oh shit. Today was horrible. Today sucked. I'm so fucking scared. I was giving the report today, and it was going fine, until the teach went outside to flirt with a security guard (chick). That asshole Martins (arch- nemesis since kindergarten) slammed the door shut and he and his jock asshole friends started pelting me with the fucking bagels Sullivan brought in today. They were fucking screaming at me, the whole class got into it. It was like Carrie or something. Then one of the desks was hurled at me. I don't remember what happened after that too clear, except for the fact that the desk was totaled, and I wasn't even bruised. The class was shut up, the teach managed to get in, but everyone was completely stock still. I just bolted. I'm still feeling sick. Mom hasn't come home, but the school called like five times. I hope no one comes by or anything. I just want to be left alone. Fucking 3rd period was never this bad.
Later September 28
I think today unlocked some very horrible memories, which unlocked strange change in my body. When ever I think of anything bad, my body changes. I'm not talking about like I begin sweating or something, I mean it changes from flesh and blood to something else. I was told by a friend that saw the "incident," I looked like I was metal in the classroom, but I was getting sick before, and I turned into porcelain, I swear. My hand disappeared too, but I could still feel it, and then it came back. Did it turn into air? As interesting as this is it's the most fucking disturbing thing.
October 1
Some guy from the east coast called today at noon-ish. I haven't been going to school since. then. He said he's like to visit me and "discuss my future," so I'm hoping he isn't from a freak show or anything. People have been outside for most of the first day, but they've all disappeared. Jimmy, the guy who saw me, doesn't even remember what happened. I haven't told Mom, so the only proof that I have is the fact that parts of me turn into not-me. It was very fucked up how I woke up with literal "morning wood."
October 3
East-Coast man appeared today. Or should I say, Professor Charles Xavier, who turns out to be some bald guy in a wheel chair. He also had with him some black lady with a weird name and absolutely white hair, this is odd because she looked like she was about 30. They talked to Mom and I. Apparently, I am what they call a "mutant." Mom had apparently heard about this phenomena from a Biology professor she's friends with (Mom's chairperson of Asian studies at a local college), but it's only theory, which I'm supposing isn't as theoretical as she believed. Apparently this Xavier guy has a school for "gifted youngsters, such as myself" and he wants to "unify man and mutant kind" by having "us" hone our powers and show the world that "the rising number of mutants aren't a threat." Apparently there are a few reports but nothing conclusive to this, so the school is just a "boarding house and a place to further studies for students that meet the criteria of the school." I like how he doesn't mention being a freak was one of the prerequisites. He already has a group of kids there, about 20.
I guess I'll go, I dunno why, but something in my gut is telling me too. That and when I was going to reject, I guess I turned into the water I was drinking, because I melted.
October 5
Back pack full of books - check. Discman - check. Laptop - check. Cell phone - check. Luggage - in the cargo of the plane. check. Off I go into the wild blue yonder. Off I g to West Chester New York, or rather the town of Bayville, right outside of it. I hate early morning flights. The rest of my shit's being mailed. I wish the Atlantic had great waves, but it doesn't, so I didn't bother to have my surf board sent. skating is the way to go here.
October 6
I've been here for a little under a day, and I guess it's okay. Some other new kids are here too. Some of the best people thus far are a girl from Roanoke, Virginia named Tabitha who can make things go "boom," a guy, Ray, from New York that's a living bug-zapper who's always hanging around Tabbie and this guy who's blue and fuzzy... I like his fur, didn't get his name though. This short red-head tackled him out of nowhere.
Not much happened except getting the grand tour and getting the rules. The food's not bad, and the rooms are nice. My room mate is weird though. He's almost always at the computer or playing video games. I'm not much of an extrovert, and I apparently don't register on his radar. I hope we at least tolerate each other.