He Woke Up First.

 I written before I really don't need more than 4 hours sleep. Yesterday was one of those days I woke up early. He doesn't like it when I climb out of bed, so I'm stuck with the choice of:

1. Trying to slowly slide over to grab my tablet from it's charging plate.
2. Laying very still in his arms hoping to drift back to sleep.
3. Attempt a Mission Impossible extrication to get my MacBook from the desk in my room. (bad choice)

  Z is a very light sleeper, I think it's because of his military training. So when I tell you it's a Mission Impossible task, it is. When I cracked my eyes open at five, I saw him staring at me. When I have trouble sleeping, he occasionally sings to me. He does have a good voice. After he sings a verse, he whispers the translation in my ear. We are an odd couple musically. I'm trying to get him hooked on DJs like Marshmello and he's trying to introduce me to songs from Jordanian and Syrian singers. "You must think outside your culture, my little one."

 He chuckles at my recent attempts to speak in his language. There are guttural undertones that I just can't wrap my tongue or throat around. Often times it feels/sounds like I'm trying to gargle or cough up something. I know that is not flattering and I don't mean to offend, but it's what it feels like to me anyway. 
 
 On top of all of that there are specific letters and sounds that only occur in Northern Jordanian Levantine Arabic. Z and my tutor are being very patient, forgiving, but firm.

 There are different ways of saying "please," and "what's your name," depending on if you're talking to a male or a female. So far the one phrase I have down is "I can't speak Arabic well." I feel dumb. Binomial Theorem, no problem. Conjugating a phrase around a specific gender, I panic.

 More changes here. Z's parents have treated me coolly in the past, but are always polite. Suddenly they are showing up every other day and his mom is hugging on me. I am wondering if it is the fact they know I am an orphan, and not just a damaged foster kid, has changed my status, or if they are just warming up to me. I asked Z if  the new attitude was based on pity. I hate people feeling sorry for me. My past is what it is. Z just kissed my forehead and told me they see the real boy now. 
 

 I did have another panic attack after Z went to work yesterday. Another eight legged, venom tailed, creature spawn from hell, got into the apartment. I hate scorpions! When I shrieked, the housekeeper came running (with knife in hand) to find out what was going on. She entered the room finding me jumping up and down on the flattened remains of our visitor. She grabbed my epi-pen and I got her to understand it didn't sting me. She then made a phone call, I assumed to inform Z.

 I was wrong she called Z's parents. They in turn called Z. Z's Mom figured it out where they are coming from. For the record that woman is really scary when she's mad. The building owner hires a company to care for, and swap out the plants in the stairwells and lobby. They have been cautioned to examine them closely in the future. The building owner installed new seals on our door in an attempt to keep anything else out.

 Z ran home from the office to see if I was okay. Then he and his dad started praising me as a mighty hunter. I felt stupid, being so afraid of a six inch bug. He reminded me how a stupid six inch bug put me in the hospital last time. Then he told me next time to leave the room and let someone kill it for me. 
  He kept apologizing and telling me it was his responsibility to keep my home safe. I hate it when he apologizes when this crap happens. He didn't plan for it to happen. It's not like he has a cage of them and he left the door open. He didn't mean for the bug to get in to our nest.

 I know he's trying to care for me, but it is frustrating as hell when he won't understand I can stand up to a six inch bug on my own. Yep, me and my Stefano Ricci's are more than enough to kill any six inch satanic crawler from hell. I've never been so happy to be wearing shoes in my life.

 So far the only contact I've had with any of Mom's family since we got home has been with my grandparents and Aunt Meghan. Aunt Meghan set them up on Skype so we can video chat. It's hard getting used to the concept of having grandparents let alone an aunt. I'm used to borrowing other people's relatives, the concept of having my own people is weird. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but it's so unreal right now. Of the aunts and uncles, I think I like Meghan the most.

 I told them how Z has me trying on the name mom gave me at birth. They told me that was silly. I've gone by another name my whole life. Z told them I don't have a middle name and I should consider using one of them at least.  Of course this comes from a man who has five names in addition to his father's.

 Z was very boastful about my scorpion hunt. Then reminded them of how allergic I am to the creatures. We had a quick group talk and then he left the room so I can have a private chat with my grandparents. As soon as Z closed the door Grandpa replied, "So you killed a bug..." with a smirk.  I love his sense of humor and I see where my frequent use of smart-ass comments comes from. Grandma noticed Mom's Pooh Bear on my nightstand holding mine.
 
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 While we cuddled this morning Z talked about my approaching nineteenth birthday and what I wanted. I told him he'd given me so much over the last month alone, it felt obscene for me to ask for anything. Besides my little list maker knows my birthday isn't until the end of October. 

 Z is letting me go back to the office tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it. I'm also almost caught up on my coursework. My professor was kind enough to give me extensions on a few projects.

  -Chase 

I found this on my playlist from Z. It was tagged, "This is how I feel when you are sad..."