Three Weeks Left

I've lived a sheltered life.

I've never been to a funeral, or a wedding, or broken a bone, or fired a gun, or smoked anything, or left the country, or been in a car accident, or even moved. No major life changes.

And most people would probably think that's a bad thing. Changes help you grow, help you become a better, wiser person.

But I don't think you necessarily need big events like that to evaluate your place in the world. There's signs all around you all the time, you just gotta pay really close attention...and then make stuff up that's probably true.

That's what all that boredom from having nothing happen in my life has given me, the ability to pay attention to little details and then spin the everloving crap out of them.

Just today I had a memory from my seemingly uneventful childhood and realized that I was part of some sort of study in elementary school that may or may not have been used to determine if I possessed psychic abilities. It was a single, isolated incident and kids that had important things happening to them wouldn't even have bothered to notice but I remember.

 I was in first grade, doing my first grade thing, trying not to smell my pencil box too much even though I was powerless to stop it. And all of a sudden this lady shows up and takes me down the hall to this corner room that was about the size of closet. Inside the room was this girl who I recognized as someone my age but I wasn't friends with her.

And the woman goes, "Okay, Andy you're going to play a game of Guess Who."

That game where you each pick a person and then you ask questions about the other person's person to try to figure out who they picked.

So we played that. I lost. And then I went back to discretely huffing pencil and eraser shavings.

But you know that woman was looking for something in either me or that other girl! Did they think I was "challenged" in some way?! Did they think she was challenged? What was she looking for?!

So after several seconds of reflecting on that memory, I came to the logical conclusion that she must have been on the look out for supra-natural abilities in the youth of America. Had I been able to correctly guess with uncanny speed that the girl had picked 'Peter', I'd be part of an elite team working with the president to end all the wars and wage love across the globe.

All will knuckle-under to the relentless love of the Home of the Brave!
 
And I failed miserably.

But you know what? To have even been considered is a great honor. And also, it would be nice if someone could tell me why the sound of other people snoring makes me want to set all the boats in all the harbors on fire. I HATE IT SO MUCH!

Number One Attribute I Look For In Sharing a Bed With Someone: If I'm snoring. They punch me. Because that's exactly what I deserve!

(Also, 601st post.)