I Think I Was A Boring Kid

I saw a sign today when I was returning from buying my 3.2 items for soup.

PRISON AREA

DON'T STOP FOR HITCHHIKERS

That just made me 38.7 times less likely to stop for anyone at all. Also, I thought about going back to get photographic evidence. But now I’m scared to stop.

Today’s Exploit:

I’ve been reading lots of blog posts that relate childhood memories. Very vivid childhood memories.

I’m in awe.

I remember my childhood in snapshots. But I don’t remember the events around any particular picture. I think most of them come from activities that I performed repeatedly, like pretending that the carpet was lava and the only way not to get burned was to stand on pillows and chairs. Events that I remember most vividly usually involved trips to the hospital, or were in some way scary.

Although there was that one time in middle school, after a concert, when a lady told the whole town about how I used to take off all my clothes when I went to aerobics with my mom. I vividly remember that embarrassment. I think adults live to recount embarrassing moments for teenagers, when pretty much everything is embarrassing.

I know stories about events, like the time I shuddered at Cinderella’s mice in Disney Land or the time I demoted my mom to “sister” status. But when I think about them it’s from my parents’ point of view, usually my mom’s.

Probably I don’t remember much because I spent most of my life sucked into a book, living vicariously through the characters. And while I was entertained, it doesn’t leave me with many memories of reality. As for books I can recount billions of stories, just not titles or authors.