This Christmas I made a friend an advent calendar, I’m not usually if the opinion of buying Christmas presents but this year I got a few. We’d long agreed that I would get her tampons as a Christmas present, sure it’s a little strange but I laughed and that’s all I need (in return I got a 10 pack of capri sun, hardly conventional presents).
Now I was meant to give it to her in school, I realized I was going to look pretty foolish handing her a 20 pack of tampons in school, so I thought I’d personalize it. Voila, tampon advent calendar, each tampon gets an advent message written on it, from confessions of love, life hacks and the phone number for the police. I spent the first few hours of the day illicitly writing messages on tampons, sure I got odd looks, a 15 year old boy opening multiple tampons in class, but hey public humiliation is a joy.
Anyway I was down to my last few, I was pretty stuck for ideas, the gags were slowly dying. She’s always complaining that she doesn’t get enough details about my life (she doesn’t know my parents’ jobs, I could probably write her father’s autobiography)so I told her I’d answer any two questions on my last two tampons.
The first one was a mundane “so what do your parents do.” the second one puzzled me a bit.
“why do you work so hard? You could easily halve your effort and still do incredibly well”
Now this one troubled me a little, I didn’t really have a good answer, sure I’d learnt the merits and how to work hard from Tai Lopez and others, but I’m not sure why I did it. I don’t have some massive dream or even know what I want to do when I grow older. I was somewhat at a loss for words, I couldn’t really think of a reason, a rationale for doing things. So I thought I’d just write something to inspire sympathy, and I suppose I must believe it in some part of my body.
I just wrote “fear of becoming my parents” i wouldn’t call my parents failures, my dad managed to go from farming peasant to pretty affluent and mum’s pretty swell too, but there’s some things about them that annoy me. Ticks and niggles that put me off following their footsteps, dad has a Messiah complex like no other and mum is like a social leach. But I didn’t really think this was the reason, I didn’t like it, just seemed like some bullshit answer is scribbled on a tampon in haste.
I suppose what I really want to do is have some proper deep probing, go over my childhood, think about what went wrong, what went right and formed me today. Problem is I can’t remember much from my past (something which compels me to think about death and loss of consciousness) I’m not sure if it’s because of some mind problem or my mind hiding some sort of trauma from me, resulting in my current self being this quasi-made up being built on little or no foundations.
Maybe I need hypnosis, or a proper psychiatrist to break me down and work out the pieces, or maybe I had a stellar childhood and just have bad memory.
I don’t remember many major trauma, maybe just some things, I remember being beaten sometimes, not like a domestic violence thing, sad to say I probably deserved most of it and I’m pretty thankful it happened or else I would’ve grown up to be a little prince. I was shown enough love and things like that.
But whatever transpired I’m happy with what I ended up with, apart from the ridiculous amount of leg scars I have because little me used to love pick scabs.