It's funny how other people can see
aspects of your personality you can't. Or rather, alert you to
something that you do know about yourself but have sequestered to the
attic and forgotten. It's a part of me that I have written about
before when it came to the Charlie Horse's I get and how I responded
to people trying to help. I was alerted to this yesterday and I'll
get around to that story in time.
But first, here's something interesting
that I learned from some younger ones who gave me the nickname,
Ronimal (Ron-Animal...get it?). When I heard it, I told them that
when I was in high school, I had the nickname “Animal.” I told
them how odd it was they should come up with a moniker that was very
similar to the one I had been given when I was 16. The original
nickname came from those in my gym class when we were playing various
games. They never did explain why I had that name but from what I
could gather, my adrenalin would shoot up and my eyes looked a bit
wild when we competed in a game I enjoyed. Perhaps I twisted, leaped
and struggled like a wet cat when contact sports was involved too.
I'm not entirely sure, but the look in my eyes was there, that I did
know. I liked some of those games....really liked them to show it on
my face. If the game had NO rules and it was “Catch as catch can,”
I loved it.
Now that I am remembering this, it was
even earlier in my life. My Dad would go out of his way to tell me to
“calm down” when I got wicked excited about some game or whatever
it was I was doing that ramped me up. Gee Dad, toss convention and
let loose!
Adrenaline...that's the key.
Anyway, here's another time I was
called an animal and not for a very good reason. As boys, we weren't
the best behaved kids. Also toss into that, the mistaken accusations
that you sometimes you get slammed with due to your past behavior.
Gary McClintock, whose name I can use
since he's long since gone now, threw a “paint bomb” at the next
door neighbor's house and sped away. The funny thing, he used some
of the paint to befoul our house too in his run. But he nailed the
house next door better than ours. Gerdy, who came out, began
shouting at my house, to my Mother who was standing in by the kitchen
door, that I had done this. That was a mistake as
I had been in the house all afternoon. My mother's protests didn't
dissuade Gerdy at all. Then I heard this, “You keep that ANIMAL
away from my house! He should be locked in a cage!!”
No joke. She said it. Gee...what had
she observed about me as a kid at other times?
Now to yesterday. I mistakenly whacked
the hell out of my thumb with a knife. Those french knives can be
razor blades mind you. I may have used one 100,000 times in my past
but you can't always escape the occasional cut, or the every ten year
Charlie Manson-type slice. I had nailed myself fairly well and was
trying to stop the blood which didn't want to stop due to the way the
skin was sliced.
A friend, who gathered up a First Aid
box, was helping me staunch the bleeding. He used hydrogen peroxide
which is known not to sting but I suppose the slash was so deep and
the fact it was nice and cold woke up those exposed nerves. After
the second dousing of the H2O2 and with my thumb burning in pain, I
kept my eyes glued to that bottle. I knew, if that came at me a third
time, I was going to push it out of the way. My adrenaline was UP and
I felt something appear a bit...Animal was coming up. It was the
Fight for Flight thingy animals are known for. I wasn't thinking, I
wasn't being rational...all I wanted was to get away from the pain.
Rationally tell me certain procedures are for my “own good” and
half of me will understand and accept, the other half of my brain is
becoming the Hulk and doesn't hear logic at all.
Adrenaline...
I have to admit that the help I was
getting was out of care and concern. The motivation is laudable. It
was not purposed torture. I wrote before one time, while I was in the
backyard once with both thighs all balled up due to a Charlie Horse,
that I switched into this persona. I had a friend try to help me
deal with the pain. I shoved them away with a “NO! GO AWAY!” I
might have acted...no...I was like a wounded animal.
I can't tell you where this comes from.
I have no idea. I have said that if I’m ever in a car accident, I
know the firemen will have to shoot me with a dart gun like they
shoot a cougar that's wandered into a mall in Portland, OR.
Animal, Ronimal, being nicknamed one,
having people see wild eyed enjoyment in me from “In your face
competition.” These observations are from people who have never
met one another and over the decades. Do you think there's a bit of
truth to it? You bet there is. I've been reminded of it again.
Ah well, it's part of who I am. I'll be
a Ronimal and as part human and part animal, I'll have to learn to accept any veterinarian’s care
when needed. You'd think I'd be more into adrenalin rushes, more
risk that to me is completely exciting. Guess the smarter part of my
brain has kept me from bunji jumps, base jumping and Russian
roulette. I”ve told you the story before how I was restricted from
climbing Mount Hood, all 11,000 feet of it for my own good.
I admit this, I can get bored real
quick with the usual. I like the PCP-Angle Dust like highs I get from
doing something a bit risky.
Animal, Ronimal and whatever hairy wild
beast I can be compared too = Adrenaline Addict?
Wow, This was enlightening! I just Googled adrenaline addict and I hit this link.
γνῶθι σεαυτόν...or Know Thyself...not a bad thing to do!
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