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Something I thought you should know...

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Whisky Priestess

09:06 / 17.08.06

I think that everybody ever does that running-alongside-the-car-thing.

I didn't. But I could always read in cars, so I never looked out of the window (which I remember being told off for constantly: Look out of the window! Stop reading! Look at the beautiful landscape!) - perhaps they were there all along.

I tiptoe barefoot, but only on non-carpeted surfaces.

I have never had an invisible friend, but I occasionally talk to the giant velour turtle I use as a pillow.

Janean Patience

09:58 / 17.08.06

I used to have a loft bedroom, and I read all the time, and I remember spending suun afternoons hanging out the window, only my hips and legs inside the house, my torso and arms hanging down reading a book. Probably 20 feet or so off the ground, so almost certainly I would have died if I'd slipped out.

Why I did it I'll never know, nor why I wasn't stopped.

10:45 / 17.08.06

i don't understand the running-along-the-car thing. never experienced that myself.

MattShepherd: I WEDDED KALI!

11:02 / 17.08.06

When I was about eight, I worked out that bad things only seemed to happen when people weren't expecting them, so I often sat around imagining horrible deaths (usually car accidents) for my parents when they were out of the house so that they would come back safely.

And they always did.

Not in the Face

11:15 / 17.08.06

When I was about eight, I worked out that bad things only seemed to happen when people weren't expecting them, so I often sat around imagining horrible deaths (usually car accidents) for my parents when they were out of the house so that they would come back safely.

I still do this.

The fact that the horrible things that have happened to people have been things I haven't thought of has only served to lcok me into this mantra. I get a bit weepy sometimes when it all gets too much.

As a child I used to try and reckon whether the Care Bear Stare would take down He-Man

13:01 / 17.08.06

I also believed that the moon was following me! just me, all me, all of the time. it was comforting, knowing the moon loved me that much.

and I still walk upstairs on my tiptoes, but only when going up. when I walk down, it's on flat feet, mostly my heels. yet I cannot feel comfortable going up the stairs in high heel shoes....I'm not sure how that works.

my grandfather used to tell these really long winded stories about gnats with the dry heaves and biker gangs of chickens while we drove to church and elvis played on the radio.

I thought that bikers were the very toughest kind of people on earth and used to fantasize that my (deceased) father was part of some roving gang and would sweep in with a roar of dozens of bikes and rescue me from my life. maybe they'd stop and beat up some people that were mean to me first.

13:39 / 17.08.06

When I was about eight, I worked out that bad things only seemed to happen when people weren't expecting them, so I often sat around imagining horrible deaths (usually car accidents) for my parents when they were out of the house so that they would come back safely.

I still do that a bit too. Or rather I’ll say it out loud and in detail for others to hear on the principle that although the chances of that awful thing happening are slim, the chances of it happening *just after I predicted it would happen* are even slimmer. Everyone would be like, ‘Oh my God, you said that would happen! That’s unbelievable!’.
A friend of mine said to me that on the same logic I should take a bomb with me next time I travel by air, because what are the chances of *two* people taking a bomb onto the plane?
Which, I suppose, is a good point.

It’s funny, I haven’t heard from him in a while.

Kiltartan Cross

13:43 / 17.08.06

I used to run programs in my head, inspired by reading Dune and falling for mentats and all that prana/bindu nonsense at too early an age. One was to attempt to analyse any situation dispassionately, and went roughly (although it was considerably more complicated in practice*) "stop stressing, what is the problem, what is your best guess at a way to make the best outcome for everyone" (fuck me, altruism!). Another was to attempt to superpose coloured auras onto people appropriate to what they were doing, which is dead easy once you've got the knack. And another was to mentally "feel" each and every part of my body in turn by concentrating on it - no sniggering - starting at the toes and working up, and noting any aches and pains. Oh, yeah, and a memory trance to attempt eidetic memory of a scene (which didn't work much).

And I used to stop, every now and then, and think "I'm going to remember this point, and I will think of all the other times I have stopped to do this, and I will think of all the times I will stop to do this in the future" which is good for a brief feeling of strangeness.

I'm guessing a few of you have done similar things... never did the "figures running alongside the car" thing, though. I do spend as much time as possible barefoot, and often tiptoe, mind.

*I could still, uh, list it for ya, but it's horribly embarassing to my nominally adult self.

14:43 / 17.08.06

Chalk another one up for the creatures running beside the car thing. Mine was a bit angrier though-it was usually some giant or monster running beside the car, crushing trees and jumping on other cars as he went.

Just after remembering another odd thing I did when I was about 5 or 6. I got my younger brother's milk-bottle and decided that my mother would be absolutely ecstatic if I drew a milk picture on the new living room carpet. The best thing about this memory, is that I can distinctly remember the picture that I squirted as being an approximation of the Joker from the 1960s television series.

Mum wasn't best impressed, though. I can't believe that I thought she'd actually be impressed that I drew a picture of a super-villain on the carpet.

Spyder Todd 2008

15:45 / 17.08.06

I really, really want to write a novel involving my childhood stuffed animals. I spent the better part of ten years developing characteristics and personalities for them when I was a kid, and I must admit I still feel fondness for the guys. The core family of tigers running the mob, their super-intelligent lawyer who’s a turtle and his family, the group of whales that do the dirtier business (a gang called the Killer Whales, of course), the rock band of reptiles…. It was cool shit. And always having to deal with the cops and the FBI (all of which were stuffed animal dogs). It was so outrageously cool, and I don’t want to abandon it, damnit. Even if it was a bit peculiar.

That’s right. At age 8 most kids spend their time playing house or going to the park. I spent my childhood developing a sophisticated model of organized crime using plush animals. Huh.

18:37 / 17.08.06

I had lasers coming out of my eyes on car journeys, sometimes I moved it to accomodate people/tallness, sometimes I didn't. It was a massacre. Also, in the car, I would try and count the blades of long grass as we drove past them.
Once I poured all my mom's make-up all over the bed, I thought that when she came back she would sneeze so hard it would send us to Africa. All it achieved was being sent to my room.
I though Goblins lived in my grandma's pantry. There was a delay between switching on the light and the light shining, I tried to click at the exact second the light appeared so the goblins would think I had magic powers.
I thought Drop Dead Fred lived under my bed, and I worried he would grab me if my body passed either of the short sides of the bed.
I knew Gremlins lived down the toilet and so ran away when I flushed. I remember my cousin was too. We used to scream in our panic to get away from the loo (we always went together, despite divergent genders\ages).
I played alone till I was about 11, and I mostly pretended to be Robin Hood, a Gladiator, or Willow. At 11 I got into weird sadomaochistic games with other kids, where I _asked_ them to drive bikes into my balls. I was a very sex-confused kid.
I remember wanting to be able to ejaculate so much that I wet myself trying. I'm now much better.

19:45 / 17.08.06

When I was about eight, I worked out that bad things only seemed to happen when people weren't expecting them, so I often sat around imagining horrible deaths (usually car accidents) for my parents when they were out of the house so that they would come back safely.

I still do this.

So do I

I also believed that the moon was following me! just me, all me, all of the time. it was comforting, knowing the moon loved me that much.

and I still walk upstairs on my tiptoes, but only when going up. when I walk down, it's on flat feet, mostly my heels. yet I cannot feel comfortable going up the stairs in high heel shoes....I'm not sure how that works.

Good to know I'm not alone.

And I'm always impressed when I see people in high heels (historically speaking, women in high heels, but, hey, no prejudice here) walking up or downstairs. I mean, how the fuck do they do it?

Kali, Queen of Kitteh

19:51 / 17.08.06

Very very carefully. Especially if you're me.

21:07 / 17.08.06

My earliest memory is being scared that an elephant was coming to reach into the car and grab me. I really wanted my uncle to close that window...

But that was a real elephant, and it really was moving our way (tho perhaps with less kiddy-snatching intent than I had assumed), so it's not quite 'travel ninja'.

Billian and Gillian (pronounced 'ghillian', with a hard 'g') were my imaginary friends. They were a boy and a girl. But the boy had a cunt, and the girl had a willy. I apparently told my father that they come from 'the central distance', which I'm quite proud of in its faux-mystical weirdness.

I have a vague memory of my parents talking about Billian and Gillian, and me snorting derisively and saying 'they aren't real, silly!', because they weren't real. Not Real real anyway...

Zarbi.

But the title of this thread isn't just about childhood memories (unless the only self-deprecating things to happen to board members happened as they were kids.. Lucky, Lucky bastards...)

So a more recent one? Okay?

I once 'had a conversation with God' where he told me I had a choice: I could live my normal lifetime normally and let that be that, Or I could live for 450 years (which is the amount of time it takes for history to repeat itself, WORD OF GOD TRUE!) and observe all that happened. However, if I chose to live for 450 years, I wouldn't be allowed to tell anyone about it, nor would I be able to share with anyone the truth about history repeating.

Needless to say, I chose to live a normal life. I mean, what's the fun in living 'forever' but not being able to brag about it?

I still sometimes wonder if that really happened...

Imagination? Overactive? Wha..?

21:07 / 17.08.06

I was once convinced by my classmate to stick my hand in an icy puddle in the dead of a Scottish winter for about 15-20 minutes. My hand swelled up and went blue and I had to spend the next hour rubbing it and warming it in my armpit while hiding it from the teacher.

Similar to the time my brother told me to sit in a puddle on the way into class and I did it without complaint.

Also once rubbed a rubber over the back of my hand until it left a big raw friction burn. This was more of an epidemic though, between my class and the one next to us. Whoever had the biggest, sorest burn was obviously the hardest. The teachers had fucking kittens when they found this out and we all got a stern talking to from Mr. Hutcheson the Head Teacher.

21:14 / 17.08.06

Oh and I'm wondering if anybody else did this one, because I found out not that long ago that my sister used to too....

Whenever I'd be out and about and a stranger passing in the street would look me in the eye, I'd think they were a time-traveller that had come from the future where I was famous for the chance to see me briefly when I was wee. They weren't allowed to say anything of course...

Whisky Priestess

22:03 / 17.08.06

Grown-up confession:

I love eating raw pastry. And not the sweet kind. Mind you, this has its roots in childhood.

miss wonderstarr

22:20 / 17.08.06

I sometimes make myself imagine I've just arrived at this moment, and try from what I see around me to gradually piece together what year I'm in. If you see what I mean. Like, if you "woke up" to the moment while looking out of a train window, how quickly could you establish that you were in the 2000s?

And I also try this thing someone once suggested, another little mental game of suddenly "realising" that this world in front of you and around you will be here when you're dead. It makes everything you experience for the next few mins seem very poignant. If you're drinking at the time, you might make yourself weepy.

23:08 / 17.08.06

Whenever I'd be out and about and a stranger passing in the street would look me in the eye, I'd think they were a time-traveller that had come from the future where I was famous for the chance to see me briefly when I was wee. They weren't allowed to say anything of course...

Ah, I'd do that, only it'd be my future self. I still do, up to the very odd man who never threw out his rubbish and lived upstairs and just got his house repossessed the other day. I blame Bill & Ted, really.

23:39 / 17.08.06

Yeah. They turfed my Granny out of her bungalow too.

Bastards.

04:36 / 18.08.06

Okay, so
1) the running along beside cars
2) the tip of toes
3) the imagining of other people's deaths in order to save them

I do all those things and still do. I feel like Ben O'Reilly. Except without the sleeveless hooded sweatshirt.

ORA ORA ORA ORAAAA!!

04:59 / 18.08.06

My car-guy is usually, but not always, a bike rider, doing california-games styled tabletops over obstacles, riding along on the top of fences and things (usually this is on trains, though, actually). Other times, though, it's the ninja. I wonder if it's the same ninja?

This still happens occasionally, when I'm not reading.

I walk on tiptoes on tile, with bare feet, but I do it because it's goddamn cold, and the less surface contact I have with the tiles, the better. Also I tiptoe up stairs, but my feet are so big that they don't really fit in most stairs, and if I don't think to tiptoe, I'll feel like I'm falling backwards the whole time.

here's my big secret, though: when I was a tiny kid, I used to think the only prerequisite for being a superhero was to have the point thing that comes down from your hairline between your eyes (the usual superhero version being some kind of mask). In dreams, sometimes, a group of my friends and I would confront bullies by wetting our hair (in the well at church, no less) and pushing it into the appropriately heroic shape.

05:41 / 18.08.06

When I was about eight, I worked out that bad things only seemed to happen when people weren't expecting them, so I often sat around imagining horrible deaths (usually car accidents) for my parents when they were out of the house so that they would come back safely.

Oh no! I've always been the exact opposite. My mum was an old hippie and right into new age stuff like creative visualisation, and no matter how hard I tried it rubbed off. So if I ever find myself imagining terrible things happening to people I love I am horrified with myself and have to try and stop immediately (though that means it is now a sort of guilty pleasure).

Weirdly, it didn't rub off in the other direction - I somehow manage to simultaneously be convinced that if I fantasise about something I really want to happen too much then it will never happen (really tricky when you have a crush - now at a different stage of life I'm find it difficult to not think about babies as my partner and I struggle with infertility).

14:56 / 18.08.06

I ruminated wistfully whilst reading this thread yesterday about how I never had anything running along beside the car, but concluded that, like WP, I was always reading and rarely looking out of the window. I then remembered my 'squeezing' game with the streetlights, though, once it was too dark to read - watching the stalk (vertical strut) of one 'squeeze' out the contents of the bulb of the next (except the light remained - presumably to help the drivers avoid the motley menagerie with whom they were involuntarily sharing the road). The game admittedly was quite monotonous and repetitive until terrain threw a curve into the mix, but then what are monotony and repetition if not a challenge to an active young mind?

Suddenly a vision struck me for the first time in at least fifteen years - a tireless and nimble me-avatar (I guess, because I knew I was in the car), keeping up a perpetual performance of high level gymnastics on the horizontal struts of the streetlights. Parallel bars stuff, mainly. I would see how many spins I could get in before the bar fell behind us and I had to fly to the next one. It was pretty perilous. I had completely forgotten about that - thank you, Barbelith.

I also imagine horrible things, not consciously to pre-empt them, though. I did realise when I was younger that envisaging things (Keanu Reeves knocking on the door and asking for a quick word when I was in GCSE English class, for example) tended to render them unlikely, to the point where I would become really quite melancholy after a particularly favourable scenario presented itself to my mind's eye, and so maybe my visions of misery, woe and disaster are a subconscious processing of that?

Like someone pointed out higher up, though, the summary doesn't specify facts about our former selves that are self-deprecating. Let's rip off the rose-tinted retrospectacles (I was young! It was cute!) and roll in the mire of the embarrassing present. For example, I realised today that I could never get famous, because I always pick my nose in traffic jams.

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