My mood is on an upswing, and I feel a bit like popping out of my skin in a pleasant carbonated way. I feel fizz-tastic. I've been completely off my meds for a few days now (though, not off all drugs since I've practically become an allergy-med addict), and it is hard to judge how I've been faring since I have been in an epic battle with my environment (with my person taking the majority of the heavy artillery), and thus I have been anxious and terribly peevish. I hopped in the shower as soon as I got home last night--it was the only way to keep me from bombing everything in the house. It was a really good shower.
Yesterday, I gnashed my teeth a lot, and got really angry at some lady in Wikus' parking lot (just shut your driver's-side door when getting your mail while audaciously parked in the middle of the parking lot), and then cursed at the apparent closing of House Pizza (if that ends up not being the case, why haven't they been open the past 10 days?). However, during small moments of calm, I did catch up on my Google Reader (stop mocking me with that 1000+ unread notice). I often enjoy reading Kendi Everyday, she seems like such an intelligent, sweet girl. I would seriously consider stalking and wooing her if she actually lived in Austin (she's near, but not near enough). She had posted a hilarious meme recounting various snippets of her childhood--the not-so-flattering kind!
Thus, I spent a lot of yesterday thinking of the fleeting bits of my childhood that I can remember. I've blacked out so many of my years, but there are still some memories that cling to these sodden brain walls of mine. Writing these makes me want to cover my face with a blanket and giggle. There's no taking them back, so I might as well put them out there for everyone else's enjoyment. Cheers!
1. While I did spend a lot of time in elementary school rollerskating to Cyndi Lauper and Madonna in the back of our 4-car garage, I also really enjoyed listening to David Lee Roth. I lived in Anchorage, AK in the mid-'80s, if that helps excuse some of my early musical tastes.
2. While in a McDonald's drive-through in Lewisville, TX, my mother told me that I have the type of "rear-end" that black guys would like, and she was okay with that. This would have been a way less uncomfortable conversation if there wasn't a black guy handing us food at the moment. For the record, my ass has an equal opportunity policy statement, where it does not discriminate against race, religion, color, national origin, sex, sexual preference, age or disability.
3. Starting my freshman year in high school and extending in to my sophomore year, I wore XXXL t-shirts on my 100-pound frame, and I thought I looked really good. The repercussion of that fashion statement was I spent many years believing I was flat-chested.
4. When I was 13 or so, I accidentally dyed a very conservative friend's hair bright, cotton-candy pink (I swear I was shooting for a very lovely shade of dark auburn). She never spoke to me again, and I'm pretty sure her mother posted a warrant for my arrest that stated she preferred me dead to alive.
5. My first job was at a car wash, where I was often made to sit in a small shack where some dude smoked copious amounts of pot. I stole quarters from people's ashtrays to make myself feel better about my lot in life.
6. In 4th grade I thought I won an art contest (I drew a fabulous cornucopia in crayon!), and told everyone I knew how it would be hanging in some bank building in downtown Edmund, OK. I stood up and announced it to my class just to have my teacher stand up and tell me I had not actually won anything at all, and what I had received was a notice thanking me for competing.
7. I wasn't properly kissed by a boy until I was 14. It happened the day I got rubber bands to wear with my braces. It was a very short-lived romance.
2 comments:
I went through a stage in high school (you probably remember it) when I only wore men's clothing, but like yourself, I was waaaaaaay too tiny to look good. I wasn't properly kissed until I was 15, and that guy still psuedo-stalks me. I must have been one hell of a kisser!
Yay for sharing! I was 14-going-on-24 when I was properly kissed. I didn't have braces, but he did. It was kinda gross because he practically licked my tonsils, but we were in a hot tub and I thought I shouldn't ruin the moment by being squeamish.
Hm. Now that I think about it, it wasn't a proper kiss at all. Highly improper, actually.
Now, the first proper kiss I had with a girl was totally awesome. She did NOT have braces, and smelled way better than that stinky boy. I still think of her whenever I smell Obsession and cigarettes.
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