Dramatic Sigh

I’m not sure how many parts this will have, but definitely at least two. It’s a long story, and kind of a circuitous way to talk about what’s been going on with my sister and I lately, which is…well, not great. But we’ll get to that later. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe Thursday. Can you stand the suspense?!?! Yes? Fine, whatever. On with the show.

My sister and I were always…weird. Weird would be a good way to say it. We’re not quite two years apart, and people always used to ask if we were twins, even when we were little and I was a lot bigger than her and even though we don’t think we look that much alike. We’re also very different, but we have times when we’re so in sync that we could be twins. When other girls our age were playing, I don’t know, My Little Pony or something, we were watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and kicking the crap out of each other in the living room. We had the action figures, the flannel sheets, the tent, the character-shaped pillows, everything. Even when Power Rangers started, we hated the show but saw it as a good excuse to karate kick our friends. The other girls demanded to be the Pink Ranger because, duh, she was the prettiest. My sister and I wouldn’t lower ourselves to fight over that – we just wanted to throw down.

When we were probably 7 and 9, we got matching flight attendant Barbies. We promptly lost one of their uniforms, and Crazy Annie was born. See, unlike normal children, we couldn’t just put another outfit on her and continue to play. Oh no. We built a Lego insane asylum and the naked Barbie was put in a room because she had issues with nudity. Specifically, Crazy Annie refused to wear clothes in public. Her sister (the still clothed flight attendant Barbie) took on the role of a high powered executive who loved Annie and wanted to take her on a trip to France, but couldn’t unless Crazy Annie would agree to wear clothes. I don’t recall exactly, but I’m pretty sure Annie stayed in the asylum. What kind of kids even know what an asylum is, let alone build one? Us. Told you we were weird.

Somewhere around 8 and 10, Gloria and Janey were born. Gloria and Janey were our alter-egos who were, um, drunks. I have no idea how or why this game came about, but we took great pleasure in staggering around the house, slurring and falling up the stairs. Somehow, we began calling each other Gloria and Janey, although who was who varied depending on the day. My mother, understandably, was not a fan of this game. I’m guessing it reminded her of too many of her relatives (hi Grandma!) We found the whole thing hilarious. It kept us entertained for at least a year, and I believe there were a couple of times when Gloria and Janey resurfaced in high school, except we were actually drunk then. No one else ever knew what we were talking about. That happened a lot.

My sister has always been the outgoing, funny, happy one. I was shy, quiet (until I got to know you, and then good luck shutting me up), and full of self-doubt. The best example of our differences might be the time we took IQ tests to get into a charter elementary school. We were 6 and 8, and we were both asked how oxygen gets back in the air. I went on a long diatribe about photosynthesis until the examiner finally told me she got it. My sister’s answer to the same question? “Open a window.” I tell her that answer is the reason I scored a whole 2 points higher on the test, but I’ve always secretly been jealous. She’s creative, where I’m analytical. She’s interesting, while I write a 700 word blog about nothing much so far. However, I think it’s those qualities that make me less susceptible to some of the problems my sister has had (is having?) so maybe I’m a little bit grateful that I’m super lame.

Anyway, this is already stupidly long, so I’ll save the rest of the story for tomorrow.