(source)
Have you ever wondered why you’re
the unique snowflake that you are? What makes you, well... you? What lies on the bottom of your most basic habits and beliefs? I often do.
I got my answers in the form
of an unexpected reminiscence with my dad. I wasn’t really on one of my fishing trips where I nag my parents to tell me what I was like as a kid, but
nevertheless, my dad started reminiscing. There was nothing I could do to stop
it. Now it’ll be forever carved in my mind, and blog.
Anyway, let's look at the points, one by one. Maybe they'll shed some light...
1. I was funny and entertaining. (Meaning I got laughed at, a lot.)
As it turns out, my
psychotic-obsessive-random personality (those are officially the three words
you can label me with, I’ll even let you slap a sticker on my forehead) may
be traced back to my earliest years. To quote my dad, “You always got people’s
attention.” Of course, that’s not necessarily
a good thing as I understand that most of those instances were followed by
laughter and ridicule.
I was a funny bunny. A bit on the crazy side. Some things don’t change.
And apparently, I had the need to
announce obvious events/things/places as if I’d witnessed the Pope strolling
down the street in a tutu (which I still do today to everyone’s horror) and
state my every feeling as if the world’s economy must cease and tend to my
needs instead. (Well, it should!)
2. I was quite the narrator. (Meaning I had a smudge of split personality.)
So I liked to refer to myself in the third person. Big deal. Some grown-ups do that!
Fellow
writers,
Am
I alone in this or are we all predisposed to playing the narrator from an early
age?
Yours
Truly.
P.S. Did your imaginary friends get jealous when you played with you, too?
3. I chose my friends carefully. (Meaning I was raised by wolves.)
Another point my dad never forgets
to remind me of is how keen I was on playing with wild dogs. Picture a two-year-old
surrounded by a pack of friendly wolves, laughing and playing in the woods.
Well, sure, because TV is so overrated. Apparently, dogs understood more about
me than did people.
If you ask
me, I think dogs are oftentimes smarter than people, so there, I chose right.
Who wants
to hang out with people anyway? Perish the
thought!
But… you can imagine how hard my
transition to the big bad town was! I remember looking out my balcony – at the
moving cars – and pointing at each one, wondering what kind of giant puppeteer moved
them, and trying to figure out where the strings were hidden. I still haven’t figured
it out...
4. I was profit-oriented. (Meaning I begged for food and hugs.)
That's right, I was quite entrepreneurial at an early age. In the head
of a toddler who hasn’t yet learned the word, it translates to adding the
phrase ‘give me’ to every request and holding out my hands to people to
get bread. Mostly around churches. Not that my parents didn’t feed me
better things.
And no, that’s not begging. Go look it up in the dictionary! #denialisfun
5. I bravely battled infestation. (Meaning I killed innocent insects because I didn’t like their spots.)
Yes, I used to step on bugs. Repeatedly. I was particularly
opposed to ladybugs. I guess no great mind can avoid being a little sadistic.
Muah. (Now I suffer nightmares of vengeful bug family members.)
And finally, here’s for the big
one. Apparently, on the day of my Christening, I was unforgivably rude to the
Priest. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I avoid going to church…
My dad, in calm voice, informed me
that I had beaten the Priest every time he touched me. I was naked, you see,
and I think that’s a perfectly lucid reaction. I am naked!!! Don’t touch me.
Oh, and I think there was a fly
involved, which made me swing even harder!
So in spite of OR because of these
early tendencies, I am what I am today. Polygamously passionate, always obsessive, seasonally hyper… all of the above and more. The point is,
by examining one’s roots, one gleans insight. I urge you do the same and show me
your dirty underpants. I’ll wait.
