Seems keeping active and working your brain is the way to stay alert and able. If that's the case, I'm in deep shit...except this job I have is forcing me to exercise my mind in ways I'm not used to. So...that part should keep working as I drift into nothingness.
A lot of me is going into Alex, more than I thought I'd do. I won't say I hated moving as much as he does, but there were two instances where I wanted to stay where I was and got taken away because of my parents. One was London, when I was very young. The other, oddly enough, was Grand Forks, ND.
In Grand Forks, we lived on base. It was in the middle of nowhere. Seriously. Nothing but flat plains in every direction, so anything that was happening was happening on base.
Like an amateur theater group. I was planning to be part of it. Had already been to two meetings to discuss plays they wanted to put on. That was the first time I heard of "The Man Who Came To Dinner", a farce about a nasty celebrity who trips on some ice while at a family's home and has to stay, and turns their lives upside down. I was hoping to play the son who wants to be a photographer.
But...my mother had one of her breakdowns (it was either #3 or 4), so we moved back to Texas. Where they don't know nothin' 'bout no theater. I started 8th grade late and never really caught up. Had to deal with the fact that I still sounded British while surrounded by rednecks and their twangs. Never did fit in. And that's coloring Alex's story.
This isn't a great cover, but it's a beginning.