There is no better word for it. Crap.

Every now and then I remember something from ages ago, and I would hate to lose all these memories. So I figure I should try and record them.

In like grade 2 I made castles and tracks and arenas for ants in the sand pit. That is probably why I have a reasonable immunity to ant bites these days. I loved it though. We used to wrap the really hard to find ants (the ones with wings or the HUGE meat ants) in plastic, then bury them so we could play with them later. Ahh, good times.

Also I used to pretend to be dinosaurs! I loved that even more. Nothing beat Raptor Racing, or head butting the kid pretending to be a triceratops. One of the few games I actually had a chance of winning, mainly because I knew at least 50 species of dinosaurs encyclopedicly. But it was never a game you could win...

Then there was good old fashioned guns, or Jedis. Jedis was better in my opinion, because we used to get kids connector pens and make lightsabres out of them. I personally was responsible for the most popular design, one which could transform between a gun and a lightsabre, yet also used so few parts that everyone could have one. Of course, I was also under the secret belief that as star wars was in the future, I would become Qui Gon Jin. It was inevitable. I just had to wait for them to invent lightsabres, and my training could commence.

And then there was that time that I befriended some Texan kid. Being from Texas, I had to ask him if they had guns in Texas. Which they apparently did. Which confirmed for me that Texas still had cowboys, and I had befriended the distant relative of one. Then his sister heard him calling me my name, which she mistook for Karen. Then went on to assume I was a girl, and that her brother (Craig) had a girlfriend. As often happens. As she was in grade 5 or something I never had the guts to point out that I actually had a doodle. And so I have not yet forgotten the time someone thought I was a girl for an extended period of time (I honestly remember it as weeks). As far as I know she never realised her mistake, no matter how much her brother tried to persuade her otherwise.

In grade 1 I went around a big fat black kid who could bend his fingers back all the way telling other kids that they were in grade 0 and we were in grade 7. Then laughing mercilessly at them and their 'grade 0'ness.

Jeez I was an arsehole when I was younger. I used to tease the 'special' kids. There was one who absolutely freaked out at anything related to a gun. So I constantly shot him with my finger gun. And then found it funny. Looking back on it, the poor kid probably had a really violent experience involving guns to be that paranoid about them. Not something that was that funny at all. Far out, it used to be a viable lunch time activity to tease the special kids. I can remember a couple of lunch times where that is all I did.

Woah, I used to tease everyone. Then encourage the new kids to do it too. I was a horrible child. And I used to tear apart lizards. I used to love lizards, I would spend all my time catching them and keeping them in old fish tanks, feeding them and hatching them from the eggs I would find. Then I somehow got it into my head that I had to tear them apart. As in grab their heads and back legs, then pull until their guts came out. I didn't enjoy it, but it was my job to. That actually kind of scares me now.

Then there was all the traps I used to set for my younger siblings. One involved a can filled with sand on a string, which would swing down at head height. Which smacked my littlest brother square in the face. I can not see how that was a good idea. Or the time I got a piece of chalk and wrote SEX everywhere in my yard. Because I knew it was a bad word.

I had forgotten how horrible I was. Damn. Looking at myself now I guess I am actually pretty good considering how I could have turned out. Namely as a serial killer with a particularly brutal yet frighteningly creative killing method. Looks like that's enough remembering the past for the moment. Oh wait. Fubarian Monkeys. The greatest craze from like grade 5 or 6.

And I talked to that girl again. Without feeling awkward. Even as the subject of the letter was brought up. Which is pretty damn crazy. She asked if that was me, or crazy drunk Russian me who wrote it (asking whether I was sober at the time). I wish I had said it was more me than I have been in a long time. But I just said no, I was sober. Funny how she could tell that it wasn't written by the me she knew. So late night me has officially spoken to someone. I haven't seen him about lately, which is interesting. Craziest bit is that she doesn't seem as special to me anymore, ie; I can think about her without weird feelings in my gut. Which is the opposite to what I thought I would be feeling. Interesting times.