Once Bitten, Twice Shy

When I was younger, around 4 years old, my mom and dad started the trusted 'no-smoking' routine, branding into my brain that smoking was bad and would kill me if I ever tried it. Every time they lit up a cigarette, they would look over to me and again say how bad smoking was while inhaling deeply like it was the very air they lived on.

I think it was hard to understand this type of teaching. If you're supposed to practice what you preach then telling me not to ever try smoking while lighting one up yourself is not the way to go.

I came to my own decision over the years that to know if smoking was truly bad or not, I would have to try it for myself. I would have to light one up, just like my parents, inhale and suck in the smoke, then blow it all out to understand why smoking was so truly terrible in the first place.

When I did try it, one day down at the 'falls' with Jess, we came to the conclusion that smoking made you sick and your tongue taste like pennies. Of course, I would never share this information with my mom, so as not to let on that she had been right all along. It was like my own realization that what she had been telling me was for my own good.

The same thing occurred when my dad told me not to touch the stove because I would burn my hand. He would repeatedly tell me this every time he turned on the stove, telling me again when he was finished cooking, and warn me again if I even took so much as one step towards it. I guess I grew tired of his constant warnings, and decided that it couldn't be that bad, because I distinctly remember placing my whole hand onto the burner and screaming out in pain. What ensued was a blistering burn and a lengthy lecture from my dad about how parents were always right.

And the same thing happened again on my fourth birthday. After the huge mess of a surprise party that my parents had tried in vain to throw me, we had gone for a walk in the nature park to ease mom's nerves, who was eight months pregnant witht my sister. As I raced down the gravel path towards the playground, my parents cried warnings of "go slow" and "stop running", but I paid no attention. Before I knew it, I was flat on my face screaming my little heart out because a huge chunk of my knee was now not where it was supposed to be. Mom had to carry me all the way back to the car while dad ran ahead to see if there was any bandages in the office. I think the whole next 6 months was filled with now continuous warnings of not to run because, "Remember what happened last time you did that!"

Actually, now that I think about it, the same thing has been happening on a regular basis my whole life... It happened when my babysitter told me not to kick that log because there was a bees nest in it. It happened when my Uncle told me that DD7 was a stain remover, not a toothpaste, but I just had to try it out before I would believe him. (That was a bit hard to explain to poison control...)

It seems like all my life people constantly try to warn me against things for my own good, but I have the hardest time actually listening to them. I have to try things on my own before I can reach that conclusion. I suppose it's hard for me to comprehend that people might possibly know more about something then me. There are times when I seriously think I know everything.

And even though I do know this; my tendency to not listen nor co-operate, I continue doing so. (I think it has to do with the fact that I'm a Taurus, a stubborn bull. Well, that's what I like to blame it on.)

I'm warning you now people, don't even attempt to try and warn me about things. I am stubborn. I am a know-it-all, and I can be a freaking bitch when I have my mind set to doing something.

No matter how much I seem to be warned about not doing something, or not trying something, I know in the back of my head I will anyways. Because I need to come to my own conclusions and realizations in life. Because I need to figure things out for myself. And although I always end up in some sticky situations, I suppose maybe it's better to be once bitten and twice shy then never knowing at all and always being a bit curious in the back of your head...

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Anyhow.

Enough rambling on for today.

I leave tomorrow at 8:00 for a long weekend of camping in northern New Brunswick. Gonna be a blast eh? (And I say that with the most possible hint of sarcasm.) Three days of 'roughing it' in a four-man tent with my mom, my sister and my mom's fucking boyfriend, who alone needs a six-man. And my iPod only has a 12 hour life battery.

I'm going to die.

But if anything, I will accomplish quite a bit of writing. I'm packing a notebook and plenty of funky pens, so I will try my hardest to deliver some a-quality material, if not a+.

Anyhow. I'm out. I tried my hardest to write that meager attempt up there.^ Don't criticize it too harshly, as you know, it's been a while...