My imagination is a magic chef of disappointment...

I have the amazing ability to listen to something someone says, process it through an unmedicated ADD brain, then allow it to explode into all things non-sensical, dramatic, Full House story-lineish, or in some way incredibly flattering or insulting. Most of the time this makes me feel foolish, but nobody knows about it...untilllllllll NOW. Exclamation point smiley face.

My brother is one of my favorite people.

 I live vicariously through his life choices. When he said he was moving to LA I was like, "yeah. okay." My mom and dad would approach this subject very carefully with me like, "Okay, Marigold pumpkin, you know bubba bear is going to be moving to a pretty farm where he has lots of room to run around with hot blondes who wear tights as pants, right?" I would say "Yep." Because I never believed it. I thought it was one of those annoying things people said they would do so everyone would think they were a non-conformist. Like, people who buy hideous clothes from thrift stores or say they don't like the Beatles.

Then I found out that he had a plane ticket. And he had quit his job. I had to come to realization that he was actually moving out of beautiful Oklahoma City to the unfortunate Los Angeles.

Los Angeles

Oklahoma City

LA wasn't enough for my brother and he informs me he is saving and taking classes so he can move to Ecuador to teach English. I again say "yep" and once again my parents very gently say "Okay, sweet little chicken...you know big brother eagle is going to soar into a country with nothing but goats, cocaine, and murderous hot females, right?" I dismissed it again, thinking it wouldn't happen any more than the time a Barnes and Noble employee told me she was going to live at Arcadia Lake because she was going to stick it to the man and didn't want to pay rent. I am all about sticking it but I  had to inform her AND her thrift store old man pants that you had to pay for a campsite at Lake Arcadia. I also asked where she would keep her clothes and how she would brush her teeth. Her answer was "You gotta respect me for doing something like this though, huh." NO. No I do not. I will respect you more if you brush your teeth, wash your hair, and listen to bands that I've heard of.

Guess what? $14 a day X31 days in a month= $434 (to live with some ducks and i'm sure some dead bodies)

Anyways.

So brother is moving to Ecuador to teach English. We have a date of when we know he'll move. I'm sad. But all I can do is tell everyone I know or come into contact with about the wonderful things my brother is doing in Ecuador. It usually goes something like this.

"My brother lives in Ecuador....so I pretty much know all about Central America.

 What? Ecuador is in South America?  What are you talking about? Don't they speak Spanish there?

 Oh, okay. Well whatever, I know a lot about Ecuador then. Yeah he's there kind of as a missionary.

He teaches little poor Mexicans how to speak English. I'm sure they all just adore him, without him there they would be selling ganja and stabbing goats. He's really giving them a future, you know? A future they wouldn't have if it wasn't for him.

I picture him like the lady in the "King and I", singing "Getting to know you" and making all this sad, foreign children believe in themselves."

or



"He has a village of children that he has to tend to. They give him a place to live, I think it's on a mountain and it's cold and there's lots of goats. But that doesn't get my brother down, oh no sir. He walks into his village everyday, all the kids just love him I'm sure, he's so wonderful with children. The kids run around him, asking him to sing him their favorite song. He agrees, but only if they sing it in Spanish AND English. Because while he is a humanitarian, a minister of peace, and a guidance counselor, he is also there to teach. And he knows that. He never forgets about those poor, shoeless, Ecuadorian babies yearning for a better life".

My Brother's class in my mind

One day I was talking to my Mom about my brother. Something tells me we weren't gossiping about all the hot Ecuadorian women we see in his pictures. I said something about the children and she said "What? Matthew doesn't teach kids...?"

"Well then what the hell is he doing in Ecuador?"

"He teaches English, but it's a class for adults".

"Poor, underprivileged shoeless adults?"

"No, I mean, they have to pay for the class. That's how Matthew gets paid and paid for his apartment"

"He has an apartment? Like, with floors and stuff?"

"Um yes...?"



Now I picture my brother standing in front of this:

It really loses something.