Normally, I would never do this. That is, sit down and write about my actual life and what the hell I've done. My main reason is that no one cares. Seriously, who would want to sit down and read about another person's life? "I have my own shit to worry about," is the normal mentality, so there's no point in trying.
Alright, obviously I agree with all that, so I'm stuck with a weird situation here. I want to do something I haven't done before, but it won't be fun and it won't be pretty, not to mention the whole, uncaring part, I already mentioned. I found a solution and figured it would be a good idea to warn everyone now. This is a work of fact, but only the funny and ridiculous things I've done in life (or at least my sarcastic views of life). Keep in mind some of this may just be a brief synopsis and some may be particularly eventful happenings that need their own full chapter. You don't need to know every action that has made me the country-supporting-crazy-out-going-charismatic-sophisticate I am today!
And with that…I launch into childhood. Some would say that I'm still a child, but I'm talking about actual years here people!
I was born into this world as Nicholas Reefer, a fact that gets no end of comments when you wear your last name around on your chest everyday. If you honestly want to know…I have not heard them all, but I've heard enough to guess what the hell you're going to say! Putting my last name aside would probably be a good idea since I'm talking about being a kid, and most kids don't learn that word and all its many meanings till at least middle school!
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania was my home town for the first six years or so. I spent a lot of time with my great grandparents, and had a crush on the girl that lived across from them. Now being that young most people wouldn't refer to it as a "crush", but I did try to kiss her and ended up cracking her head on the concrete and she had to get stitches, so I think the term applies even if it is only used purely as a sound effect.
Aside from injuring childhood sweet hearts I was a terror in many other ways as well. I attacked my great grandpa's newspapers so he couldn't read them, flipped his chair over when he was in it so he couldn't get back up, and turned the water hose on in his face in front of the entire family. Most of these devious acts I blame on television, simply because I don't want to admit that I was a devil child, but strangely enough my family still loved me and kept me from my great grandfather's ire on numerous occasions.
My mom was still in college most of my early days so I grew up around sophisticated people who were in the great process of furthering their education. I didn't have many friends my age, but did have a new favorite word by the age of seven; the word was, and still is, "factious" by the way. At six, I moved away for the first time and went to live in another college town in Michigan where my mother had found a new job, after finally graduating.
It was at around this point in my life that I turned my eyes skyward, yearning for more. I became like my favorite animal the monkey, and climbed any damn thing that came my way! Monkey bars where nothing, trees where no challenge, a swaying bookcase was no problem, and that random street light was just another toy! To this day I don't know if that had been a form of minor protest, or just sheer fun, but I do recall many a night when my Mother had to pry me from the roof of our little apartment to deport me to my bed.
Most of the events that I can recall from these years took place at a little place called "elementary school". For those out there reading this diatribe and wondering what exactly an "elementary school" is, it is an archaic institution that is used to brain wash young people. It was a great place full of mystery, lost glasses, and a strange growing fascination with the large orbs on the front of older women! It was in this joyous place that I witnessed the awesome power of the cuddies, learned how to manipulate those strange black squiggles in my Dr. Seuss books, and discovered that I had an appendage on my body that was apparently not supposed to be used as a cannon for playschool pals. (Don't judge me!)
Everything was going well for me, I was coming into my own and manipulating video game controllers on a eighth grade level. It seemed that the world was quite literally my playground and there where just too many things to discover. But, things never go as planned and as soon as I hit fourth grade my mother remarried and I found myself heading to another country entirely, and I didn't honestly know what the hell "country" meant!