GROWING UP PSYCHOLOGICALLY.
chipped white paint wrought-iron chairs. and i sat in them on the porch by the bluebird's nest. my sister to my right.
back then i didn't know. and i bet i liked it.
we'd sit and wait for the cars to zoom by. the iroc-z's and the chevy blazers. with vernor's in hand, we'd use our other thumb to show how much we liked that car. the obvious up's and down's. halfway horizontally stuck thumb toward the vernor's in the opposite hand.
back then i didn't know. and i bet i liked it.
i also never understood the cardboard signs in people's frontyards with marker or spraypaint letters strewn across the front. all those abbreviations.
XERCISE EQUIP 4 SALE
CLEAN FILL WNTD
i gave those signs thumbs down and a thumbs up to the "$1,500-$2,000/wk" ones.
this is all ancient.
that old, not-forgotten christmas tree fairy tale how it was "so perfect." the perfect tree. it had outstanding stability.
this was before i knew about Alfred Adler and the inferiority complex.
before the Genital Stage that Sigmund Freud smoked his cigar and listened to ragtime to.
before paranoid, disorganized and catatonic schizophrenia.
before 'ol Ray Cattell's 16 source traits.
back then i didn't know and hadn't yet found a reason to feel insecure.
soon enough, garage sales leaked from my poor head like antifreeze. the same cars went zooming by my grandmother's front porch. the bluebird migrated and ten years later, i learned about empty-nest syndrome.