HOLY NECROPHILIA, BATMAN!!!

AUTOBIOGRAPHY---CHELSEA LYONS
My name is Chelsea Lyons. i was born in the city of Orange in Orange County, California on September 21, 1992 at 2:55 am. i

have been a connections academy student for 3 years and don't enjoy writing about myself.i have a little brother named

Christian. he recently turned 13 and goes to military school. i enjoy rock music, pop music, and even some rap music [if you

can call it music], and basically everything except country. i hero worship the band My Chemical Romance and Gwen Stefani is

my biggest idol. i'm going to start writing about my history now so this won't sound too much like a personals ad.

CHILDHOOD
i went to elementary school in Costa Mesa California. that's in Orange County too. i was pretty happy, i was social, i was

studious, i was very different. when i was 7, in the year 2000, my grandfather died of cancer. it didn't really upset me too

much, because i've pretty much always understood that death comes to everyone, regardless of whether or not they or their

loved ones are ready for it.

i remember that i loved Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys. i also wanted to be a ballerina. before that, i wanted to be

a cardiolgist. then a princess. and then a reporter. and then a zookeeper. and then an animal trainer. and then a singer. and

then a tap dancer. which is when i got to ballerina.

soon after i decided i was going to be a ballerina, i changed my mind again and wanted to become an Egyptologist. i've stuck

with that decision ever since. Ancient Egypt has just filled me with so much wonder and passion, more than anything else i've

ever done, even music, and i've always loved music.

my family and i stayed with my grandparents in Orange County until my second semester of third grade. then, we moved to

Fontana, hell hole of the Inland Empire. people call it Fontucky. i don't blame them.

when we got to Fontucky, i immediately made friends with a group of girls. one of the girls in the group was Marlene. i liked

her a bit more than the others. she was very skinny and small with dark hair and large brown eyes. towards the end of 3rd

grade, she was introduced to one of her brother's friends, some guy whose name started with an A, and they started 'going

out'. which basically means they called eachother names and sat together at lunch.

the guy with the A name was a year older than we were and everyone thought he was handsome, although i cannot imagine why. i

thought he was a total jerk. eventually, when we were in 4th grade, he stopped calling Marlene names and sat at some other

lunch table. Marlene stopped eating almost entirely and started playing more and more sports. she was also a lot less of the

person she had been before. she was sad, she barely talked to anyone, and she avoided me and the rest of her friends

completely.

a couple weeks after the start of this behavior, she made plans with another friend of mine, Diane, to run away from home. i

was invited to join them, but i declined, because i have always been a wuss at leaving familiar things behind. they told the

rest of our clique, and no one tattled on them until the actual day they did it. then my friend Jessica, who could never

really keep secrets, told our teacher, who told our vice principal, who told the principal, who made us all come in to her

office.

then, we were interrogated and made to feel as if it were our fault that they had made the choice to leave home. Marlene

actually had a good reason, her grandmother neglected and abused her. Diane was just along for the ride.

finally, the cops caught up with them at some McDonald's, and they were brought back to the school to be yelled at. Diane was

returned to her parents, and Marlene was put into foster care. we hugged goodbye. she was crying, i was too, and they took

her away. i never saw her again.

she called once, saying that she maybe could visit me, but then abruptly hung up and never called again. since i didn't have

her new number, i couldn't call her. and her grandmother was...strange...and liked to disconnect her phone from time to time.

she didn't like me anyway.

life without Marlene was pretty much the same, a bit sadder and emptier, but the same. Marlene had pretty much avoided me for

a few weeks before she proposed running away from home, and we had lost touch in that amazingly small amount of time. when

people distance themselves, it's like their dead. so she became dead to me.

in 5th grade, i had to go to a different school, a newer one that was closer to my house. none of my good friends were going,

so i had to use my back up friends as clique members. my back up friends were weird, geeky, bi polar, and even mean, which is

why they were only back up friends. i can handle weird and geeky, i prefer it even, but bi polar and mean is just too much.

at the new school, things were different. for one, we were the first people to use the books and desks. at my old school,

everything went back to probably generations ago. at least to the early nineties.

my teacher's name was Ms. Finch. she is by far my most favorite teacher ever. she didn't judge, stereotype, or anything, she

saw just the person, which was especially good for me, because if someone looked at only the surface, they'd probably turn

around and run away.

during this year, 2003, major things happened. my father started feeling ill on Cinco De Mayo, which was on a Monday, and by

Thursday was a total and complete mess. i remember being woken up so we could drive Daddy to the hospital. i was tired and a

little bit angry because i had school in the morning. hospitals are boring and filled with waiting tired people. i never

liked hospitals, but i'm used to them now.

so, to make a long story that i don't like telling short, Daddy went into a coma. when i first saw him, i wasn't really

shocked or sad or angry at anyone like people thought i would be. i didn't really feel anything, and i still don't. it's a

part of life, i accept it, and i move on. it's actually not hard at all. people still expect me to be sad, depressed, and

even suicidal or at least a little unusual. but i'm not. i never have been and i never will be. well, i am unusual, but i

think that's kind of a good thing.

i don't like people knowing my father is in a coma. sadly, my mother does not think along the same lines as i do and tells

people about Daddy so she can have their prayers. i think they can keep their prayers, i don't like being treated like a

freak. being treated differently makes me upset, not the fact that my father is comatose.

i remember that when i got back to school, somehow everybody knew, and all my friends started pretending to be sad for me. i

got so many 'if you ever need anything...'s that i just became sick of it and avoided my friends. not by physically avoiding

them, but by changing my personality. i used to entertain them with jokes and stories, but no more. i like entertaining, but

i do not like entertaining people who look at me as if i'm someone who should be treated completely differently just because

her father is an invalid.

but enough about that. let's skip to 6th grade. the back up friends moved away and went to different schools, and i had to

use my back up back up friends, who were even meaner and more bi polar than the back up friends. so, i went from being

popular, to girl with the dad in a coma, to complete nobody who sat in the corner and never opened her mouth.

the 2003-2004 year school year was my worst ever, and always will be. worse than 5th grade when my father went into a coma.

worse than 4th grade when my friend ran away. worse than 2nd grade when my grandfather died. in 6th grade, i was made fun of,

pushed aside, and avoided like the plague. around this time, i started getting acne and my hair became frizzy and i ceased to

care about my appearance. i neglected myself and dressed in pajama pants and large tee shirts. that made me even less

accepted. i always wanted to be different, but i wanted to be different and accepted.

even my teacher was mean to me that year. she said i lost assignments that i was positive i turned in and she went through my

desk and brought out private things so she could look at them. mostly, those private things were drawings of her with devil

horns and holding a pitchfork, and i didn't mind her looking at those. maybe i subconsciously intended for her to find them.

maybe i even 'accidentally' left some on her desk.

i was absent a lot that year and i was always late to class. i had to take speech lessons to correct a lisp that i have

always had, and i still sometimes let slip. the other children thought not being able to say your 's's made a person stupid,

and even though i hardly ever slipped up, i was ridiculed.

my teacher had unusually long nails, hairy arms, a unibrow, and a mustache. i was certain she was a werewolf. she also drived

a bright orange car with a license plate that said 'pumpkin'. she was even less popular than i was. i think i was maybe 3

points higher than she was on the popular scale.

she was mean to everyone, not just me, and kept us late after class and sometimes cursed in the classroom. she liked to take

her shoes off [her feet did not smell nice] and walk around and peer over people's shoulders to make sure they weren't

cheating on whatever they were doing.

later in the year, she somehow managed to get engaged to a truck driver. she liked to cancel lessons and tell us about her

fiancee and what she hoped her wedding would be like. children often fell asleep in our class. whether it was from

exhaustion, her boring stories, or they were knocked unconscious from the smell of her feet, no one will ever know.

towards the end of the year, a girl named Brittany joined our class. she dressed all in black and dyed her hair. one of my

friends invited her to join our clique, and we soon became close friends. she gave me posters and cds of bands i had never

even heard of before. she called herself punk rock, but as i became deeper and deeper immersed in punk, i found out she was

what punk people call a 'poser'. but whatever, no one can see the inside of a person, so it's best not to judge, even though

she completely stopped wearing black and listening to music that wasn't rap or hip hop when a popular boy started talking to

her.

Brittany and another friend, Haley, started pressuring me to become punk/goth. i didn't want to because i just wanted to be

me. even though i now label myself as a punk, i still don't let other people call me punk. only i can. i listen to all types

of music. for instance, Barry Manilow is one of my favorite artists. surprising, isn't it?

well, sometime during sixth grade my mother decided that my brother and i were to be homeschooled for personal reasons that i

don't feel comfortable mentioning. she got a letter from connections academy in the mail, and here i am! my brother was in CA

for a little while, but got kicked out because he didn't do his work. he now goes to St. Catherine's Military Academy in

Anaheim, which is a Catholic all boys school. surprisingly, he likes it there.

TEENAGEDOM
ah, teenagedom. what every parent fears and what every child looks forward to. actually, i never wanted to grow up beyond the

age of 9, but Peter Pan never showed up at my window, so now i'm 14.

after 6th grade was over, i completely distanced myself from my 'friends'. i never liked them much anyway, so it was easy.

plus, my mother likes to listen to all my phone calls, so i decided i would completely immerse myself in the online world and

have a social life there. i never liked parties or large groups of people, so the computer is much better. i never intended

to become a recluse, but a lot of things happen that we don't mean to.

when is started being homeschooled, my mother got me more involved in my church. we're Roman Catholic. when i was 12, i had

to attend a youth group every Tuesday night called 'The Edge'. i liked calling it 'The Edge of Sanity', and i still do now

that my brother goes to it.

in The Edge of Sanity, the children all knew my father was in a coma, and i was treated almost the same way as i was in

school. not that i expected anything different, but still, i hoped. here, i wasn't made fun of, i was just completely

ignored. everyone went into little cliques, and i just hung out with a girl named Veronica that everyone else seemed to avoid

too.

Veronica was like Brittany, but not a poser. she got me into more bands that i had never heard of, and the music was better

than what Brittany gave me, in my opinion. i never figured out why people avoided veronica. maybe it was the black

sweatshirts, black jeans, heavy eyeliner, and purple streaked black hair that did it.

i had another friend in the group that told me people were going to avoid me even more if i hung out with Veronica, but i

didn't care. even in my days of wanting to be a ballerina, i didn't care what other people thought. all my friends were

tomboys then and teased me. i have never cared about people's opinions and i never will.

and everything my other friend said came to pass. i wasn't even looked at. when i tried to start conversations with people,

they just ignored me. it hurt at first, but then i realized i didn't want to be friends with people like that anyway.

after the first year of The Edge, Veronica stopped coming. i don't blame her. during my second year at The Edge, i was

completely alone and i didn't mind it. better alone than in bad company.

when i started attending the classes that prepare me for confirmation into the church late last year, i was avoided still.

but there were more people than in The Edge, and they were all different. we went on a retreat into the mountains and i made

several friends there. they didn't judge or stereotype me.

when we got back from the retreat, people realized i was intelligent. or, rather,  they somehow started thinking i was

intelligent. when we get into groups to complete quizzes, i'm always the one that has to answer all the questions. i'm good

at church history and stuff, because i study ancient Egypt, and that means i have to study the rest of history to get a good

understanding of it all. religion ties into history, obviously. so i have studied many world religions.

and when the religious teachers make us write posters on the ten commandments or something, i end up designing and doing it

all. somehow, the other kids figured out that i'm quiet but not shy, and then make me present our projects to the class. we

have to do little posters and worksheets in groups every time in this class.

and yes, i am complaining. writing is a form of release, and this is a part of my life, so why not put it in my

autobiography? i see no good reason not to.

CURRENT DREAMS AND HOPES
as i mentioned earlier, i want to be an Egyptologist. i also like singing, and i think i'm good at it, so i may dabble in

that a bit before the whole Egyptology thing.

i started taking voice lessons when i was 10. then i stopped for a little while, and when i was 11, my mom thought i needed

some sort of extracurricular activity, and i was in singing again. i took group and private lessons. both teachers tried to

push me in the direction of opera and broadway, but that's not really what i want to do.

i took my private lessons at a place called Alta Loma Music Shop. they have this thing every summer called Rock Project where

kids get together [after paying gobs of money] and form bands. the first time i did this, i was nervous because i wasn't

really a completely trained singer yet, i had only performed onstage 5 or 6 times, and singing in front of people without

being on a stage made me nervous. so, i basically screwed that whole experience up. i didn't like any of my bandmates, and

you have to like your bandmates or else someone ends up being killed.

the adult who supervised the band [and basically told us everything we had to do] told me i had to write a song. i don't know

why people always expect the vocalist to write the songs, and before this i had never tried rhyming things. i even made fun

of people who did. but i was forced to write one. so, the first song i wrote was called Read My Lips and was about two boys

who followed me around and didn't seem to understand that i had no attraction of any kind towards them.

i thought/think the song was horrible. we had to record it in a real recording studio, which made me even more nervous than i

was before. they put the headphone thingys over my head, and i couldn't hear the music or myself properly, but no one seemed

to listen or care. thus, i ended up sounding like i had a cold.

when we performed in August, we had decided our set would be 'Louie, Louie', 'Read My Lips', and 'Wipe Out'.

i have not listened to Louie, Louie or Wipe Out since and i never intend to. and i have almost completely forgotten the words

to Read My Lips [thank god]. i won't go into details, but let's just say that someone got nervous onstage and forgot the

words to nearly everything and had her microphone turned off.

but two years after that horrible/terrifying experience, i tried Rock Project again. i had kept on writing songs and had

gotten more training from my voice teachers, and i was way better this time. i had completely gotten rid of my stage fright,

too. and this time, my bandmates were all boys who were younger than me, and that was a lot easier because i have a little

brother and they were around his age. i know how to handle kids that age.

so, with this group, we were in the opening group of bands and our set was 'Helter Skelter' [the U2 version], 'His Regrets',

which i wrote, and 'Artificial Sweetener' by No Doubt. we were the one band that was not professional or had adults in it

whose orginal song was chosen to be put on the Rock Project Myspace. so now i have my words and voice on the internet.

my little brother is learning how to play guitar, and we've done some songs together. i write the words and the music, but he

comes up with some pretty good stuff too. he's planning on taking guitar lessons this summer. maybe he'll even be in Rock

Project too.

CONCLUSION
the first time i wrote my autobiography in 5th grade, it came out around 3 pages long, and that was with large type and

double spaces. it's kind of sad, really. it shows me that i haven't really lived at all. either that, or i just need to put

in more details, which i am determined not to do. i have been purposefully vague on some things, and i'm not detail oriented

at all, and as a result, this is very short.

so in conclusion, i am a girl who likes remaining somewhat mysterious, rock music, good friends, the internet, and writing

long and seemingly pointless odes to goldfish crackers. yes, i am unusual and it takes me absolutely no effort and i like it,

but whatever. it's all good in the end.

*note: i have not edited it yet. just tell me what you think.