Traverse in Reverse: The Memoirs of a Discordian

[AFK]

It started when I was two years old.  You wouldn,Äôt expect to hear the cathartic choral of cherubs after an ancient window frame just came crashing down upon your fingers.  And, honestly, I don,Äôt think those were
Angels.  I think it was just my grandmother humming along to the Lawrence Welk show again.  Yeah, I loved that show too, well until the bubbles were done that is.  Anyway, yeah, I think that was when I first heard the voice, and that beat.  The syncopation was quite unlike that of others.  But it was pretty damned catchy. 

Of course, my grandmother was the beat master.  She probably never realized she was the one that planted the first seeds of Discordia.  She was a prime example of how to just do whatever the fuck you want to and not worry about what the other uptight Grannies say.  How many other Grandmothers make up stories about the zany adventures of a zit-laden lad?  How many other Grannies would play Atari for 3 hours and be totally into it?  Yup, she was a true Discordian saint, which isn,Äòt too bad for a born-again Baptist. 

Truth be told, I never really understood how different I was until I was in school.  When you grow up in rural, small town America such uniqueness becomes blazingly apparent when you are in a group of other kids.  I was the good kid.  Or at least, that,Äôs what all the teachers would say.  I was quiet, introspective, introverted, but my mind was never silent.  But, I played the good student.  Got my straight A,Äôs in science and arithmetic and didn,Äôt cuss in class.  But I did challenge the authority. 

Now, I,Äôm not talking about the teachers, nor the principals, hell not even the lunch ladies.  No, I,Äôm talking about the authority on the playground.  When you get a bunch of kids together in school the pecking order quickly sorts itself out.  In grade school you don,Äôt have jocks, and preps, and those sorts of literal cliques yet.  But, you definitely see the precursors to them.  You see the group of girls hanging out who will be the prissy, preppy cheerleaders and class treasurers.  You see the guys playing kickball who will be the basketball and soccer stars.  You see the kids whose faces are covered with dirt who will be the vocational students and rebels.  Then you have those kids who are fodder for all of the rest.  I guess I was in that group by default.  By that early age I had already decided that I pretty much hated all of the other kids.  Sure, I had a couple guys I could relate to just enough to call ,Äúfriends.,Äù  But, I,Äôve not kept in touch with any of them.

These kids are expected to give way at the water fountain.  To relinquish the basketballs that aren,Äôt leaking air.  To buckle and succumb to their class bullying.  Now, I would be lying if I said I never ended up being a pushover for one of them.  However, I,Äôd also be lying if I said I never gave them a good slug in the stomach once in awhile.  Of course, doing that sort of thing too often can be hazardous to ones health.  Plus, its easier to just slip in some mystery liquid into their Chop Suey when it,Äôs your turn to work the lunch line.  Who would have thought that stomach convulsions and retching could be so entertaining? 

Of course, I would be painting an inaccurate picture if I said I was always this wacky, zany, chaotic, nose-thumbing kid throughout school.  I think we all stray into the realm of typical ness as we walk our paths.  I had the typical dreams of being a baseball star, a rock star, and an astronaut.  Of course the astronaut dream ended quickly when Ms. McAullife retired from teaching in ,Äò86.  But, yeah, I did enough typical kid things to keep my parents from worrying about me too much.  I figured the inanity of public education was better than weekly sessions with Dr. I. M. Deep.  But, I did know that I hated being a part of this class.  A bunch of kids being total dupes to the whims of predictability.  Bathing themselves in superficiality.  Worrying about playing with the right kids.  Worrying about not looking too smart and geeky.  Worrying about ,Äúgoing out,Äù with the right boy or girl.  Worrying about following Mommy and Daddy,Äôs footprints.  Worrying about becoming a success.

There was just so much more to think about that was much more interesting and much more important,Ķ,Ķ.. 

[rygD]

I would share my own story but it is long and I am too lazy.  Maybe tomorrow.

[Thurnez Isa]

Its good that you bumped this
I just come to finally read this a few days ago

[Doc Howl]

This is pretty good stuff.

[AFK]

Oh man, I forgot about this.  There's supposed to be more too, I guess I should get on that. 

[the dreadful hours]

bump.  get on it. 

[rygD]

RWHN, you said there was supposed to be more.  Did it ever materialise?

[AFK]

Not yet.  I should get on that.