The Method To My Madness

Mulan

Dear Reader,

I'm not the kind to shy away from confrontation...... Hahahahahaha that's a straight up lie (sometimes). Sorry, let me get on topic here because I have NO CLUE where I was headed with THAT intro. I have A.D.D. and no editor so be prepared because I believe in the "No Filter" lifestyle. Now the basis of this letter is something we ALL can relate to and that is school. Lucky for you my little reader; I moved schools 3 times (in elementary), became a homeschooler in my junior year, and graduated early from high school so I can give you a variety of situations that pretty much everyone has been in.

I have one of those memories that never gets rid of anything. Like seriously, my memory is similar to that of a criminal record. It's a "once it happens and goes in the system it's never leaving you" kind of memory. My brain is a hoarder. So in truth I remember a shit ton of grade school moments. So what happened in kindergarten that began my journey to psychosis? Well I liked my sleep and I still do so I was in the afternoon class. I walked in terrified to let go of my mom's hand but once I saw the crayons and the fact that my teacher's last name was the same as a grocery store (Randall's) I was fine. That year I met a friend and we'll call her E; well E was my best friend back then because if we weren't friends then she would be mean and I was smart so I stuck with the cool kids. I'm talking 64 crayons plus sharpener cool. Thinking back though maybe if I was a normal child school would have been easier for me.

But no. I just had to go a screw it all up. That's right people. I single handedly caused the ENTIRE kindergarten department to take away the scissors from ALL of the kids. Insert facepalm here. What did I do? Oh dear reader I'm so very glad you asked! I chopped half of my hair off. Now take a moment to let that sink in..........................................................

We good? Okay. So let me explain the mindset of a 5 year old genius. Picture this if you will, there are 6 kids at each table in a classroom full of colorful posters. The table that is important is a tan rectangular table with the title "Green Circle Table" and if that doesn't screw with a kid that is learning shapes and colors I don't know what does. Anyway this table has 5 kids because one is out getting a tonsillectomy and the class just finished making her get well cards and now it's time for math. Math is the kryptonite for our 5 year old genius with A.D.D. because she loathes math. So what does she do? She looks around at the other kids and suddenly she spots the awkward Asian girl sitting across the table.

Now this Asian girl is mean to our genius because smarty pants is friends with E (this detail is important to the story). Please note that before I offend anyone further I was five and I thought all Asians were the same so I didn't realize this Asian was Vietnamese and not Chinese. I WAS 5. I'm going to hell I know. I'm sorry. Back to the story, I saw her and all her Asian-ness and it made me think of the movie I was watching the night before. Oh yes, Mulan. Let's be honest because this is a judge free zone; any kid that is as awesome as I was would rather reenact an epic Disney movie than do boring old math. So while I thought no one was watching I grabbed the scissors and crawled under the table, did the whole Christina Aguilera song scene, and started chopping.

I was entertained but the fricking Asian just had to ruin my fun and yell "Teacher, teacher! She's doing a a bad thing!" And if THAT didn't ruin my happiness the teacher almost screamed in horror at my handy work. She bagged my hair and called my mom...... My mom cried when she saw the bag and continued to cry for 4 days every time she looked at my hair. That night my dad took me to a salon but the lady only shook her head with teary eyes and said she couldn't help. So what does my dad do? He takes me to a barber shop filled with old guys that smelt funny. The nice lady there instead of crying in horror she cried from laughing to hard and then attempted to fix the damage as best she could. I had an inverted bob a good decade before they were cool.

Why was it such a deal though? Why were people crying over the hair of a child that wasn't there's? Because I have curls and oh what a horrible sight it was after the stunt I pulled.

If you're wondering what school was like the next day here's the basics I begged my mom to let me stay home to which she cried with me (her over my curls and my over what other kids would say about my boy hair) yet she still managed to say no, the kids laughed, the teacher lectured, and I gave the Asian the stink eye. Oh and at recess we found out that all the other kids no longer got to use scissors either but no one could understand why or the reason why every time somebody said the word scissors the new boy in Mrs. Randall's class would cry, the new boy being me. However in true child nature by the time naptime was over everyone had forgotten about the situation except for me and the Asian.

So whatever happened to that little Asian girl? Well she's my best friend now. We became friends when E pushed her off the jungle gym 3 weeks after my hair debacle. While everyone pointed and laughed I saw the pain in her eyes and got the teacher. I stayed with her all the way to the nurses' station and refused to leave until she was better. And that was the story of how I met my best friend. Obviously our relationship is unique seeing as she forgot the part where she was mean to me and E was her bully and for a majority of middle school and freshman year she was telling people I was her bully then randomly one night at 4 Am she calls me telling me she remembers I was the one who stuck up for her back then. Yes, she is crazy and yes she does get it from me. 

Oh and if you're wondering about that bag of my chopped hair? Welp I still have that too. My mom keeps it in her night stand. I don't think those two will ever let me live that down.

P.S. This was supposed to be a letter about school but instead it only proves my awesomeness. For that I'm slightly sorry.