"Creativity Killed the Cat"

There are a lot of things that I wasn't born to do. Painting or drawing, (flashback to my childhood:"LOOK MOMMY I DREW A PICTURE OF OUR FAMILY!" "...thats a squiggle."), baking, (I always eat all the ingredients before I can make them into anything), and math (The square root of X marks the spot, right?), but I was born acting. That's right, when I came out of my mom, I wasn't really crying like most new borns, I was using method acting.  I was pretending that my doctor was my dog Scraggles who'd gotten hit by a car, and that's why I was crying-not because I was breathing air.

You know how when you're little you're supposed to play house? Well...when I played house I was the mom, dad, sister, baby, brother, AND pet alligator. Sometimes I let my friend G. be the family dog because otherwise she bit me. 

At six I got sent to the school psychologist after pretending to be a Cat instead of participating in the reading circle. I kneaded the carpet with my claws, I meowed, and I walked around on all fours.  They didn't understand that it was an acting exercise. I mean REALLY. outrageous. 

DAMN IT. SO MISUNDERSTOOD AS A CHILD. AND AN ADOLESCENT. AND A FETUS. 

Actually, that wouldn't be the first time I would be sent to the psychologist. I also got sent there when I stole the class turtle and stuck him in my lunch box to free him in the park, when instead of presenting a project on immigration and ellis island in second grade I just spoke with a russian accent similar to my grandfather's and talked about drinking vodka, and when I convinced my sister that she was actually the one responsible for making the crack in the liberty bell when she stomped on the ground after a family trip to Philly and that we had a brother named Stan who my parents sent to Korea which would happen to her if she was bad. 

I think I also would've been sent to the middle school psychologist for writing a musical about an elf trying to make it to Broadway with a pet reindeer named Rudolph who gets hit by a taxi cab once they get to New York, but we had a pretty awesome 8th grade english teacher.

I am a creative spirit. When I was applying to college I wrote a letter of acceptance to Harvard for my dog P., and had my whole family confused for a little while. It had a letter head and everything. P. also has a match.com account for any of you ladies interested out there. And J. Date. 

Maybe this blog will help me use some of my creative energy for good.
xoxo,
-clown girl