posted
And then we both noticed it and posted about it! That's too funny that we both came up with the same term!
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I was pretty sure my parents were having orgies when I saw some anti-fungal powder in an upper cabinet. My first thought was "genital warts." I was about five or six, but I'd been readin my mother's nursing periodicals for some time.
I also convinced myself that witches lived behind the panelling and that the ceiling would bulge down at me if I stared at it.
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posted
I knew Romany was a she. I just didn't go back and check who called you Moenom.
My bed growing up was about a foot from the wall so you could get sheets and such on. I used to always be nervous that there was something living down in that dark crack beside my bed. I told my parents that years later and they were beside themselves that they had put me through such trauma.
I guess I wasn't creative enough to think of sex change operations and such. Just monsters under the bed.
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Noemon, we are destined never to be in the same room together. The only question is: Who gets to wear the cape?
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posted
I don't know, maybe we should draw straws for it?
quote: was pretty sure my parents were having orgies when I saw some anti-fungal powder in an upper cabinet. My first thought was "genital warts." I was about five or six, but I'd been readin my mother's nursing periodicals for some time.
I also convinced myself that witches lived behind the panelling and that the ceiling would bulge down at me if I stared at it.
You know Sara, really, I find it mind boggling how much we have in common. Seriously, that's *exactly* the sort of conclusion I'd have drawn, on finding the powder, and the bit about the witches behind the panelling and the ceiling bulge are both very much the sorts of things I'd have come up with. I guess it says good things about my self image that I like you so much, huh?
I was convined that if you watched the walruses at the local natural history museum long enough they'd begin to breathe. I also believed very firmly in ghosts, who I was sure were up to no good, and vampires, who scared the living hell out of me.
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posted
17 huh? Did you think that they'd performed a sex change on you, or that you'd actually been male all along?
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And I spent hours staring at & pinching together my thumb and forefinger, trying to see if I could see contact between them before I could feel it. Because, you know, that would be Proof of Something.
I like you a whole lot, too.
quote:17 huh? Did you think that they'd performed a sex change on you, or that you'd actually been male all along?
If I remember correctly, it was "Oh my god, they made me a man." But then later, after I was a little more awake, I had a conversation with the clock, once it climbed off the wall and onto the bed to tell me the time.
Narcotics.
[ December 30, 2004, 03:49 PM: Message edited by: Sara Sasse ]
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quote:Because, you know, that would be Proof of Something.
Yes!
That sounds like me too!
On the whole vampire thing, I remember being scared out of my wits when I first heard about Pennsylvania, because I focused on the "sylvania" part, and thought that I lived on the same continent as Dracula. I'd previously taken some comfort in the fact that an entire ocean seperated me from him. I was very relieved when I realized my mistake.
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posted
You two need to cut this out. Someone just walked into my office and found me staring at my hand while I pinched my thumb and forefinger together.
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I think it was all based on this firm certainty that things are not what they seem, and not in a good way, either. Bad stuff is happening that nobody is telling you about, and you can maybe figure it out and Do Something. A morbid resolution of sorts, in response (maybe?) to the uncertain and out-of-control nature of the world of the child.
Zan, you must publish the results of your experiment. Here, where we can read them.
quote:My bed growing up was about a foot from the wall so you could get sheets and such on. I used to always be nervous that there was something living down in that dark crack beside my bed. I told my parents that years later and they were beside themselves that they had put me through such trauma.
Poor sweetie. And it would have been so easy to correct, too. (Though you might have found something else to fix on, I guess.)
[ December 30, 2004, 04:21 PM: Message edited by: Sara Sasse ]
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posted
Curse you Sara. You've actually got me doing this now.
I think I see contact before I can feel it. But then I have to keep doing it from different angles because I'm not sure that I'm not seeing some slight overlap of my digits. There not really touching, they just present the illusion of touching. I switch angles to make sure there lined up properly, but then how can I be sure that the other plane is not screwed up now.
posted
Yeah. It's almost like there's a thin pink film over the surface (fuzzy and not really there, more of an optical illusion) that comes together before you feel it. But when you do feel the touch, it's unmistakable -- not like you could have missed it and just suddenly noticed.
Weird, eh? I believe I was concerned that this might be an aura, and I wasn't sure if it was good or bad to see them.
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posted
Just when I think they're making contact, I'm trying to hold them steady while I rotate my hand so I can view it from a different angle. But I can't hold them steady enough. Even a slight twitch ruins it.
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quote:I think it was all based on this firm certainty that things are not what they seem, and not in a good way, either. Bad stuff is happening that nobody is telling you about, and you can maybe figure it out and Do Something. A morbid resolution of sorts, in response (maybe?) to the uncertain and out-of-control nature of the world of the child.
My cousin Beth and I would spend some nights at my grandfather's farm (the place where the cats were fed a weird stew, as referenced in another thread). He loved kids and didn't like being alone, so the grandkids -- there were about 40+ of us at the time -- would rotate through.
Beth was 6, and I was 5. One night we stayed up to watch Saturday Night Live, which I'd never seen before, and were talking late into the night, after Grandpa fell asleep. I became concerned that burglars would enter through the back screens, so we gathered up mattress cushions and built a fake burglar. Then we practiced jumping out from behind the (cushionless) furniture and stabbing it with a screwdriver.
We were quite seriously worried and felt terribly responsible for protecting Grandpa. I don't think we slept at all that night.
quote:Just when I think they're making contact, I'm trying to hold them steady while I rotate my hand so I can view it from a different angle. But I can't hold them steady enough. Even a slight twitch ruins it.
You can see why it absorbs you for hours! Just as you are about to find out -- bang. You have to start over.
[ December 30, 2004, 04:42 PM: Message edited by: Sara Sasse ]
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posted
Sara, no kidding? Sylvania for you too? That's...I don't know what that is. Something good though.
quote:I think it was all based on this firm certainty that things are not what they seem, and not in a good way, either. Bad stuff is happening that nobody is telling you about, and you can maybe figure it out and Do Something. A morbid resolution of sorts, in response (maybe?) to the uncertain and out-of-control nature of the world of the child.
::nods:: Yeah, that sounds about right. I always kept an emergency bag packed just in case everything went down and I had to take to the woods.
I thought that it wasn't unlikely that I would have to defend my family from burglars. My weapon of choice was the elevator column from my Death Star, which fit perfectly over my arm, and seemed like an effective bludgeoning device to me
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quote:::nods:: Yeah, that sounds about right. I always kept an emergency bag packed just in case everything went down and I had to take to the woods.
Yeah! And I would mentally review escape routes through the fields and streets (where to hide, where there was good groundcover for running) some nights before falling asleep.
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And you could probably hide out under a neighbor's pine tree if you had to, because in the dark it would be pretty good cover, and there was room to huddle together near the trunk.
You da bomb, Jake.
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posted
There was actually a little complex of pine trees, impenetrable to an adult, in me neighbor's yard that I had all staked out. Other refuges included a delapitated barn in an old, scrubwood choked field, a culvert, and a series of hiding places in the woods.
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posted
Keep in mind that your fingers never actually do touch. Actually, the electrons of the molecules making up one finger get close enough to repel the electrons of the other finger. They don't actually come into contact.
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posted
I thought he was the male me, but I remember having no such thoughts as a child.
On the finger thing, I seem to be able to feel it just exactly as soon as I can see them touch. It's almost like a switch flipping. Does this mean I'm blind? O_O
When I was a kid I used to lose myself for hours while playing alone. Then I would come back to reality and realize the bus had left (after school) or all the other kids had gone inside to class (during recess) or home to dinner (in the summer) or whatever. When I was in 1st and 2nd grade I would just go knock on the rectory door and tell Father Allen I Missed the Bus again and ask if he would take me home. He always did and never made me feel like it was an inconvenience.
When I was at the mall I always would get lost, because of how my attention could be captured and held by things. I'd look up and my mother was nowhere to be found. Or else I would have had some other lady's legs in the corner of my eye thinking that was my mom, and then looked up higher and realized it wasn't her at all. It happened almost every single time we went, so I learned to go to the record store whenever that happened, since that was the designated rendezvous point whenever we got lost in the mall. It happened so often that we had a system all worked out.
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posted
Here's another question for you. Which finger do you feel the touch in first? Is it the finger or the thumb that is most sensitive? When I do feel them touch, I can't tell whether I'm feeling it through my thumb or my finger, I just know that they are touching. If I touch something else to one or the other, I know which is being touched.
I don't know. I'm trying it with my eyes closed now and it seems like I feel it in my forefinger first. I really have to think about it to differentiate between which is feeling what.
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You know, I'm really astounded by how much I have in common with both of you, honestly, and with Porter too.
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posted
I'm right there with you guys on the paranoid thing. I did the whole mental escape route thing. I still do sometimes. I'm also weird about having things near me or on me that I can grab to defend myself if someone tries to attack me. And when I'm in a restaurant, I absolutely can't sit with my back to the entrance or windows. Plus I always try to sit at the end of a booth or theater row so I can get out quickly. I feel trapped otherwise.
My brother and I used to "practice" stuff. Like we figured out how to break into our own house, which came in handy when we got locked out and didn't have a key. Or we'd boost each other onto really high stuff like they did in movies. I climbed out of our second story window one time to see what it was like to walk on the roof ( what was I thinking?). And one time we found a fire escape ladder in a closet and proceeded to "make sure it worked". Apparently the ladder was stronger than the dry wall surrounding the window.
For the whole finger thumb thing, My thumb feels my finger before they touch. I thought it was just because I could see them getting closer, but I still feel it with my eyes closed.
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posted
I used to plan out my fire escape route (out my window onto the roof of the family room, jump down onto the deck, and run from there) and I had to sleep facing the wall because I figured if some crazy murderer got into my room and tried to kill me, I'd rather not see him before I died. I would also make myself crazy if I was home alone, because I would hear normal house noises and think someone was breaking in.
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what was I thinking?). And one time we found a fire escape ladder in a closet and proceeded to "make sure it worked". Apparently the ladder was stronger than the dry wall surrounding the window.
