My Early Years

[Uptown]

Hi!
I'm king of the universe!

[bloody]

lol, noice...
weakness was the point.

again...

I'm king of the world!!!

[bloody]

my job is done here

[BabyAdonis]

Hi, I forgot to mention my Adonis archetype story...

When I was a baby, I had a circumcision accident, and had to have reconstruction surgery to realign the plumbing. My mom was worried like hell, but the doctor told her I have a perfect... yeah. 


Adonis and Attis are castration deities.

Adonis, with Venus mourning at his side.


...Attis is lesser well known and represented.

[BabyAdonis]

If I don't stay active I actually have sharp pains doing anything. Been that way most of my life. :/

[BabyAdonis]

Other than that, fuck you guys and your ugly ass art.

[poet]

let me be me.

[poet]

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[poet]

I apologize. I don't know what triggered me today.

[poet]

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[poet]

The Story of My Early Years

In my first year I developed the habit of headbanging in my crib, especially at night. We think I developed the habit from my mom bouncing me on a pillow on her knees, and I just naturally carried on all on my own. They couldn't get me to stop the habit and took me to see a doctor to see if anything was wrong with me. The doctors didn't think anything was troubling me, and told my mother that these things happen, and that there was nothing wrong with me. When I became old enough to walk, I made a game of jumping, and diving head first into objects. I liked to climb up to the higher spots I could find and jump into coffee tables and end tables. In my toddler years I had split my head open numerous times requiring stitches, and can still count about 8-9 scars on my head, mostly on or around my eyebrows (not to mention the times I leaped but didn't split my head open.) I believe I made up the 'jumping' game as a result of my nocturnal headbanging, but that can't be proved. When I started school, I noticed that one scar in particular popped out, and I likened it to a lightning bolt. I showed all my teachers and friends my 'lightning bolt' by telling them about it, then scrunching my brow to make it pop out. My teachers thought it was humorous at times.

When I was 3-4 years old I learned to be left handed. I was coloring at the kitchen table one day when my left handed uncle, Joe, suggested I color with my left hand and I thought it was the cool thing to do. After that, my left hand was my go to hand and it easily became my good hand. I moved in with my dad a year or two later. We were playing basketball with some big kids, I was 5 or 6, and my dad must've saw me using my left hand because he said 'shoot the ball with your right hand!' and I said 'like this?' and he said, 'No, your right hand! Don't you know what your right hand is?' Then he called me over and we had a talk. He said, 'Show me your right hand.' I gave him my left. He said, 'No, your right hand. It's the hand you write with, what hand do you write with?' I gave him my left. He then said, 'No, it's the hand you punch with.' He put his hands up and said, 'Give me your best punch.' I punched with my left. He then went on to tell me that I was using the wrong hand, and that my right was better. When I asked him why the right hand was better, he said 'Because it's a right hand world!' He then told me a list of 'right handed' things including scissors. So, I agreed to switch. I spent the next few weeks trying to relearn my dominant hand, and it was frustrating at times.

One day I was moping around near the door of the house and my dad said, 'What's wrong, you look bummed out? Why don't you go outside and play.' I said, 'I'm bored, there's nothing to do.' He said, 'Why don't you go play in the woods. You love that.' I said, 'I did that all day yesterday.' He said, 'Come on. I know you like it. Why don't you go to your favorite spot, walk the trails or something. I bet you'll have fun.' I brightened up at the thought, and said 'you're right!,' and walking off, I said hesitantly, 'But do you really think I'll have fun?' He said, 'Of course, you always do!' So, I headed out to the woods and started looking for something to entertain myself with, when I found an arrowhead (likely a spearhead) and couldn't wait to show my dad. So, I grabbed it and raced for home. I ran and was running downhill, when I noticed the arrowhead in my left hand (I was still in the task of learning to use my right, mind you), and I decided to feign a hard fall and stab myself. I decided, and tripped myself just at the bottom driving the arrowhead into my right wrist. I was bleeding profusely, and crying, fearing for my life at the loss of blood, and made my way inside to my dad. He said, 'What did you do, son?!' I told him I cut myself! He said, 'You gotta be careful, you could have killed yourself!' I said, 'What do you mean?' He said, 'You see that vein there? It goes straight to your heart. You cut that and you could bleed to death!' I replied, 'What do you mean, 'I could die?' He looked at me and said, 'You would be no more.' He then bandaged me up and told me it had a nice shape to it, and that I shouldn't mess with it or else ruin it. Still to this day, it's a well defined shape, almost a perfect V, or the v-like shape of a 5 pointed star without the arms. Anyways, after that I calmed down, and wanted to go look for the arrowhead I dropped, but my dad said he would look for me, but I had to stay inside for the rest of the day. I asked him, but he said he couldn't find it, and I couldn't find it on my own the next day.

The next few days I was amazed at how lively the woods were. I went to my dad and asked him, 'What happened?' He said, 'What do you mean?' and I told him that things were so alive and vibrant. He then told me, 'Well, nothing happened, you're just having fun!' and I left it at that.

That's my story of learning to be right handed and falling with an arrowhead, but I still imagine my toddler years, when I liked to take leaps, still played a part, and every night I was still banging my head for a few minutes before sleep, which may have played a part in all this. Even without absolute proof, I believe this to be completely probable, as I had always made a game of taking headfirst leaps.

I only shared this to fill in the missing pieces. If it had already been known to this extent, or I had put it elsewhere, I would have never shared it here. I apologize for sharing this, if it's seen as sensitive information and makes anyone uncomfortable. Like I said, my intentions were purely informative, and I felt a need to share details, which I saw as important, that had never come directly from me in the form of the literal story. As for the artwork, that was more to justify it as art, but I had nowhere to share these details, and felt an artistic community would better understand the need to divulge this information, especially seeing I'm the only one who knows the finer aspects. Whether or not it's seen as important is up to the individual.

thanks for your time.

[hypnotoad]

Ok, I keep coming back for one of two reasons... I have more to say, or 'i don't want to leave this way'

this time it's more along the lines of 'I have more to say'

anyways, on to it...

When I was in Kindergarten, my grandpa came to visit my dad and I during spring break, or at least I'm pretty sure it was spring break. During his visit, we all took a trip to Cherokee Rock. I remember two very specific things. We were walking the trails, and came to a cliff face with a fence guarding the edge. I asked my dad why there was a fence there and he told me it was there to keep people from falling off, and that specifically kids might not know any better and may think it's a game, and I asked why would they do that, and he said because they might not know they'd get hurt. Later on we visited the gift shop and my dad told me to pick out something, anything, that struck my fancy. I looked around and eventually made up my mind that I wanted an arrowhead. I was very enthusiastic but my dad said 'No,' and when I asked why, he told me 'Because they're not toys.' He and grandpa then directed me over to the toy tomahawks and said 'how about one of these?' He then told me that they were for warriors, and even what scalping was, and when I asked why you'd want a scalp he said that the scalps were trophies. After that, I warmed to the idea of that as a toy, and chose that for the one gift I was afforded.