Your reflection, my reaction

MY FIRST MEMORY OF MY CHILDHOOD would have to be a grade kindergarten class. Sometimes I wonder if it was even a memory. My mother always commented on the fact that I had a highly extraordinary imagination when it came to playing with myself. Nonetheless, I will go over the memory, even though it maybe a dream or fantasy of sorts. I was four years old, in the middle of the classroom, looking around. All I see are unhappy kids crying and looking around at these other kids with dread. At that moment, my only thoughts are of pride – I am a kid who isn’t afraid; I am on a higher spiritual plane than these children. I’m not sad, I don’t miss my family, and I am a self-sufficient individual. Ok, maybe these we not the exact thoughts of the four years old, but I assure you that is the emotional response I remember having. I am sitting in the center of the universe, and all the chaos around me is meaningless, because I am settled and aware; what is happening around me doesn’t affect me, it just helps me to come into my own, and be a much more self-actualizing person.

Memories are a funny thing really. In my case, I have forgotten just about everything in relation to my childhood, unless I write it like I’m doing now, or unless something triggers a response to remember such details. If I were to even to describe the first 11 years of my life, the first words I would use are: bland, conventional, different, scary, and insightful. I only remember insignificant things, like getting a 100 on a math test in grade 2, playing piano for the other kids in front of the whole class of Mrs. Buttler in grade 4, watching an overweight girl pee in gym class because the teacher wouldn't let her use the washroom...funny what we remember. Sometimes I wonder if I should bother even holding on to these memories.

I remember having at least two girlfriends/play dates that first year in school. One I met in the sandbox during a lunch hour. Her name was Vicki, and she had strawberry blond hair, pale skin, and eyes that contained intelligence and awareness. It was refreshing because in this instance I was surrounded by a lot of empty shells. Grade Kindergarten was a strange class indeed.

Yes, it’s true; we had a sandbox in our kindergarten class. I was never a sculpture, and creatively I cannot visualize any particular piece of art or concept unless I have something to base it on. So, my stints in the sandbox were to merely escape the other children. They were mindless drones. Any chance of talking about something remotely uncommon would only reinforce the fact that I am not a four year old. I am four years old going on forty.

“Ok kids, it’s arts and crafts time”, Mrs. Churchill would say. She was more like a turtle when I think back. Mrs. Churchill would be a firm advocate of wearing fall colors all year round. Her neck would disappear into her limitless collection of turtle neck shirts, which masked whatever shape she had. And her skirts would show off these things she called legs. Now, I cannot comment on whether or not her legs were attractive to the opposite sex. To me, they were legs covered in white or brown stockings, that is all. She looked and acted more like a librarian than a teacher.

She was a fabulous person though, a meek, smiley, happy, and enthusiastic person. Even during our art classes – we had nothing but cheap paints due to small community school budgets – I would become enticed to paint when I saw the happiness in her face. I would always think that OK, I have to pretend to enjoy this, because I don’t want to disrupt her bliss. I didn’t want to upset a person who gave me nothing but happiness. Who wanted nothing more than to show others how to become a young adult, who was a good Christian that undoubtedly loved the world that she choose to live in. Even though it’s a small town, even though her husband sometimes went months without working, she was normal and unaffected by the stresses in life. Maybe it was because she did find God. Or maybe she was really good at hiding in the shadow of her God. All I really know is she was a memory of strength, a memory of acceptance and confidence. She left a lasting impression.

Painting…so dull sigh. I am wondering what I should be when I grow up? I know one thing; I’m an alien to the rest of these kids. We don’t relate. I mean, my interests are different, I don’t follow pop culture; not a big fan of he-man or hockey. I’m sorry for your little lives, and no my mom doesn’t buy me that many toys! I don’t even understand how to play with these things…what are you doing? God, they just giggle about nothing, it’s very humiliating to see them like this - my peers are idiots. Jesus, they ask the teacher to help them in the bathroom!!! Ok, maybe I was kind of removed. IT doesn’t matter anymore now. Puzzles are much more fun, and yes I know it’s a singular activity, but look at the accomplishment. You have to spend a great deal of time connecting this puzzle, that results some artistic photograph that gives me some minute glimpse into a world so beyond what I’m accustomed too. I can’t even make crashing sounds OK. I really don’t know how. I will stick to puzzles.

Later on in life – in grade 8 my first girlfriend turned out to be Mrs. Churchill’s daughter. Granted it was strange to arrive at her house, and see the joy in her face when she saw me with her daughter. “Oh it’s Charlie; it just seems like yesterday when you were in my class, oh look how you’ve grown up into quite the man”. I guess she approves. Too bad she doesn’t know her daughters going to be a big dike, ha-ha. My first girlfriend turns out to be a lesbian. Kind of ironic isn’t it? Or maybe that is what I subconsciously looked for, someone as disinterested in sex with the opposite sex as I was turning out to be. It’s bad enough with the same sex, let along having to stretch it even future into another entirely different set of complexity.

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Come here, oh my star is fading, and I swerved out of control. If I, I waited and waited, when I will get out of this hole?

Time, pushing you down, pushing you all around.

-- Coldplay