I was kind of a weird kid.
I’m kind of a weird adult but that’s to be expected.
Raising a weird kid has to be rather hard on one’s parents.
I used to insistently demand cheese pizza. Which my parents would order me. And when I got it? I would be furious. And I would rip off all of that garbage on top of my beloved pizza and eat it, never understanding why my parents couldn’t get what I had requested they order.
Man, parents just do not understand.
Except that stuff I was ripping off? WAS the cheese. It took me years to understand that they were actually giving me what I asked for.
While I can see that this may have been a language issue and that many toddlers are this temperamental, it did not stop there.
When I was 6, my parents played Clue with my sister and I. I don’t remember how long we played before I broke down in hysterics and was unable to function any longer.
Because I? Had just realized that any single thing in our house could kill me. Hell, pretty much anything on the planet. There was no safety. And I was not ready to die.
To this day, there are no candlesticks in my house. I regard hammers warily although they’ve never done anything to me. You can only imagine how much that open vent in our temporary apartment bothered me.
That said, I’m occassionally rather reckless. While I am virtually incapable of leaving a house without locking the door behind me (or entering a house without locking the door behind me), from there I do not startle easily. Hey, I lived downtown for the better part of a decade. When you routinely navigate around a stranger’s urine, you become difficult to shock.
I don’t see doom around every corner. The thing is, I’m not getting out of this whole life thing alive. And since it can be anywhere, why worry? I can’t really control it and I sure as hell can’t avoid it, so why worry?
So I navigate the streets cautiously optimistic most days.
Unless I have to visit a candle store.
Candlesticks just seem so unnecessary to be around. Especially in observatories.