Disorganized Overthoughts

It's interesting to think that some children want to "fit in." I don't ever remember saying that. I imagine situations where the child has that one-on-one talk with a parent- where real feelings that they're embarrassed to say come out. Most of the time, I feel like a child would say, "I'm different than the other kids" or "I just want to fit in"- I've heard similar things to this before. I realize, however, that I never said that. I'm not sure if I just didn't care or if it was that I wanted to be different. When I think back to a particular example of this, I think of some kids night that my church had when I grew up. It was called Kidz Praz (I'm not sure why there were "z"'s instead of "s"'s, but I was always sort of offended and felt that they were insulting our intelligence by misspelling such a simple word.) Anyway, Kidz Praz was, more or less, a talent show so that the parents could have a night off from Bible study, film their perfect specimens of children and acquire fuel for the next year of making fun of each other's inferior spawn. I was ten years old. Everyone was quoting a psalm or playing their cheesy piano solo. I didn't want to do either of those things. I had written a song that I liked and I knew that my guy friends in the class played music, so I proposed that we put together A BAND!!! So while everyone else was quoting "Jesus wept," we were actually doing something great! We played in my friend's garage for years after that.

Another story. When we lived in St. Louis, my parents took my family to some grown-up's house for some big summer party. I remember they had a really cool... swingset? Playground? It was one of those wooden playgrounds that a semi-rich person might buy for their kids, I guess. Anyway, I didn't want to play on the playground- there were so many kids. So I went off to the side by myself and found a tree with a little bitty cut-off branch poking out the side. I also happened to find a large quantity of home-grown tomatoes, which I did not appreciate or realize the importance of, at the time. I just knew that I wanted to throw this red ball (that I knew I should probably hide that I had found) at my target- that little branch. So I started throwing the baby tomatoes at the branch.*

Sometimes I wonder, did I do the band in 4th grade, for example, because that's what I wanted to do or because I just wanted to be different, maybe to be recognized for breaking the mold? Did I go play by myself because it was genuinely fun at the time, or because I actually wanted someone to come talk to just me? Obviously these examples are dumb, but I feel that habits and thought processes start as a kid, and if one can look back to their thought processes in childhood, one can see more purely why they act the way they do. When you are a kid, you do things more because you wanted to do them and less because of what people will think about them. Even if you are doing something because you wanted people to see, I feel that as a child, you're more honest with yourself. It's somehow less embarrassing to admit as a kid that you did a cartwheel because you liked someone than it is to say that you wore a low cut top because you know he's a boob guy. ...Obviously I just made that up to use it as an example. Honestly! If I actually meant that, I wouldn't have said it. I would be too embarrassed to say that if it were actually true. See?!!!!! My point is proven, and I didn't even mean to prove it, at first! But anyway, sometimes I wonder things like this- like, why we do the things we do, at the nitty gritty. I feel like it's more than just.... "I wanted to!" This is what I love about human interaction- being able to tell what someone will do because you know them that well- this insight into what maybe they don't even realize. My thought processes can be annoyingly nitty-gritty, but I enjoy the insight I receive from them. I feel very in tune with myself, and others, really; I am depressingly honest. I don't put anything past me ever. But I also know that I give people the benefit of the doubt by not putting anything past them either. At a certain point, each wonderful thing they do is when they rise above the "human" things they could've done. You're naturally selfish; if you perform an action that is not selfish, it's because you tried to break that mold. Good for you. But why did you do it? I just need someone else to understand what goes through my head sometimes. It is so annoying how deep I can get into mine and others' heads, but it is a strength, I think. It's a weakness. It's why I never win arguments. It's empathy, I hope, and not creepy. If I have a spiritual gift, that is it. I enjoy knowing the "why" just as much as the "what."

I apologize for this being a novel. I wish I had more time to actually work this thought process out, but I believe that would be torturous to read in a few years. I'm just writing things that I already know. It just feels better to get them out of my own head and onto a piece of paper, or a screen, as it were. Thank you for your time.

*(In case anyone would like to finish this epic story. Cont.) Miss. Miss. Miss. Insert infamous church bully holding my nerd friend Nicholas upside down over the slide. Nicholas is crying like a baby (I hated and loved this kid). Bully and his bully brothers are laughing. Five-year-old Chelsea hears the cries of her companion and turns to meet his assailant's eyes. She lowers her head while a fierce, determined fire becomes alive behind her eyes. It has begun. Chelsea grabs the tomato. Chelsea yells, "Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeave Niiiiiiiiiiiiiichooooooolaaaaaaaaas alooooooooone!!!" in slow motion (and creepy, low, man voice) as the tomato leaves the tips of her fingers. The bully looks up- a slight tinge of fear is seen in him by all the onlookers for the first time. Victory already. Tomato still in slow motion. Chelsea stood as if recovering from a pitch toward home plate- watching with a menacing smirk to see the contact. Suddenly the tomato jolted into real time as the on-lookers were thrown back across the yard, shielding their eyes and ears from the sonic boom that had just occurred. I can still hear their screams. It looked kinda like thiyis.

Except with a tomato... The tomato had contact. Oh yes, it did. It smashed into the bully's chest, tomato juice and chunks spraying across the playground. It was as close to war as anyone could've imagined at that age. The bully lost control of Nicholas, letting him get away, and looked at Chelsea in utter disbelief, embarrassment and anger. Everyone laughed at the bully- a five-year-old girl had just stood up to him and embarrassed him in front of all of his friends. Justice had been served. Peace in the world. Chelsea was a hero for the day, at least in her own mind.**

**(The real end of this story. Cont.) After Nicholas had been saved, instead of his joining me in triumph, he ran off crying like a little wuss and left me alone with a busted tomato at the bully's feet. (Sidenote: I was also wearing brand new clothes that I had helped make and really liked. I was wearing light purple shorts that looked sort of like spandex? And a white t-shirt with little light purple, green, blue and pink shapes that me and my mom had "sponged" on. I distinctly remember a watering can shape being on there.) The embarrassment in his eyes soon turned to anger. I realized what he was going to do right before he did it, so I started running inside screaming, "MOM!!!!!" All of a sudden, defending someone didn't feel as respectable or even appreciated as it had ten seconds ago. I was close to the door when I felt the tomato hit my back. The shirt was ruined, and I don't really ever remember playing with Nicholas past that point. But I do remember the first time I stood up for someone and my first real fight. I was never ashamed of what I did, no matter how many times I was made fun of because of that instance. I felt like I had done something right. That's never not a good feeling.