Saturday, August 7, 2010
Here were some of my thoughts:
I wondered, as I played with Barbie in the mid 1960’s, if I would “look” like her when I grew up. I don't. I hated when they changed the Barbie body to look more realistic more mainstream. Really, what girl wants to dream of looking realistic and mainstream? Not me. I wanted to look like Barbie. I thought my big busted, small waisted, dark haired Barbie was perfect.
As a rural kid, I thought it was ridiculous that I was sent to the principal’s office in second grade for talking too much in class. I thought it was cruel to ask us to raise our hand to ask or answer questions, but, we couldn’t ask or answer questions of our classmates, in the middle of class. I thought this was a bit restrictive.
As a child, I didn’t think I would live to the ripe old age of 16. I mourned this thought often because I wanted to get my driver’s license. I wanted to drive. Then I didn’t think I would live to see the age of 30 and wrote my husband and children letters of appreciation and love. I didn’t think I would live to see the year 2000. So when I was in Dallas on New Year’s Eve 1999, I thought it might be my last night. (I also took flashlights in my luggage in case all electrical grids failed, remember that?) I guess you know by now that wasn’t my last night. I’m pretty sure I won’t live to be 100 years of age. And don’t try to talk me out of that one.
It may be true--I think too much.
If you are an over thinker, you are my friend and perhaps I will adopt you as family. Do you have an example of over thinking? I actually prefer to call it...a good imagination.