FINALLY!

Bahahahaha. I have found my inspiration.

Allie Brosh just posted a new blog...post....(it feels redundant to say that) and it completely reminded me of my childhood. I was much like that too (or so my parents say) - hyper, out of control, and completely focused on one thing whenever I needed to be. I can only remember a few scattered incidents from my childhood, so I'll just tell you the one that defined most of it.

I used to live in Texas right up until I was about 6, when we moved to Virginia for my dad's new job (at the time I believed we were going on a secret government mission that I couldn't tell anyone about; so, of course, I told everyone). And like all moves, I left behind my best friend in the entire world: Alex Wolf. I can't remember much about him now, except that he had vividly bright red hair and we spent almost all our time together being uncontrollable kids.

Well, one time, when we were both 3, I was having a playdate at his house (I think he lived on a cul-de-sac) and I brought over my tricycle so we could ride around and make motorcycle noises and be cool. Now, I can't remember exactly how this next part happened, so I'm going to tell it like my parents and former babysitter told me it happened:

I was riding along the sidewalk when I either got distracted by someone calling my name or wanted to get out of the way of a car that was backing out of a driveway I was riding across. Either way, I decided that the best course of action to remedy the situation was to turn IMMEDIATELY down the driveway. Now, on a bicycle this would have worked - the wheels are directly in line, so turning is easier. On a tricycle, however.....speedy turns tend to flip them. And that's exactly what happened. I flipped my tricycle and bit pavement mouth-first, cracking my two front teeth and probably doing severe damage to my head. I can't remember whether there was a car or not, but it definitely didn't run me over, so I tend to not believe there was one.

Then the usual followed: crying parents, a quick trip to the emergency room, and voila I'm home. The only part I remember from all of that is lying on the emergency room table, looking up at the bright lights and seeing doctors in lab coats hovering over me. I think I was pretty heavily sedated at this point, so I didn't develop a phobia of doctors or lab coats; I thought they were the coolest things ever.

Once I got home, my parents sat me down and had an important talk with me: how I had two fake front teeth now and I shouldn't be irresponsible with them. Of course, this resulted in me pulling them out and examining them, and that became the cool thing I could do for the next five years. That kid can jump off the swing? The other kid can do a backflip? Well I CAN PULL MY TEETH OUT. AND PUT THEM BACK IN. BEAT THAT.

This probably is why I'm so unfocused later in life - there's probably some deep philosophical meaning to it, but I can't figure out what it is.

p.s. Sorry about the lack of posts! I've been doing college-related stuff like sleeping and going to class, so I haven't had much time to do a post.

p.p.s. Mom and Dad....don't correct me if I got anything wrong in this story. I like it the way it is.

p.p.p.s. Go to hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com and check out the story that gave me inspiration!