fandomsecrets | [ SECRET POST #2885 ]

[ SECRET POST #2885 ]

⌈ Secret Post #2885 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

01.

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02.

[Avengers]

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03.

[Terminator: Genisys]

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04.

[Red Dwarf]

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05.

[Gracepoint/Broadchurch]

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06.

[Doctor Who]

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07.

[All The President's Men]

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08.

[The Great Mouse Detective]

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09.

[Supernatural]

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10.

[Transformers: Prime]

Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 01 pages, 024 secrets from Secret Submission Post #412.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

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It's my birthday (yes, I am Virgin!Anon), and I've been reminiscing as one does when one is getting older and completely boring and sensible. (Which, honestly does not make the worst life.)

I was a really good kid. Like really really good. Like, "don't let her play because she'll find a way to ruin it!" good. No mischief, no pranks. Except I did do one thing. One thing that was actively bad and in a weird way I feel it sort of salvages my childhood.

So when we were nine, my best friend and I were both homeschooled, and we had been brought up to be fairly independent. And every summer we'd go to the local community pool. After age seven the pool didn't insist on a parent coming along, so my friend and I would go together. The problem was, although we had our parents vouch for us when we went in; it seemed like no one ever believed we wouldn't be trouble. It didn't help that we were both small for our ages -- I myself looked closer to six. So the lifeguards and the people who ran the changing rooms always had this condescending attitude towards us.

One Summer, the pool opened and the changing room had been, well, changed. They'd taken out the old half-open stalls that your best friend would have to hold a towel over the front of if you were shy, and replaced them with separate, lockable stalls.

Now, on the day this happened, my friend and I were at the pool later in the day than most people went. (Possibly school had started already.) I remember there were very few people there, which gave the staff a lot of opportunities to annoy us when we weren't doing anything wrong. So, when we found ourselves in the empty changing rooms (and the clothes-check girl had abandoned her station), we used our size to our advantage. Between the two of us, we managed to get under and lock every stall in that changing room from the inside. Then we booked it into a golden afternoon and took refuge in the nearby library, giggling with shock that we' done something like that. When we went back past the pool entrance, we caught a staff member storming out of the changing room looking really pissed off.

My friend and I were never caught. I don't believe we were even suspected, despite being some of the only people there. We were just such a good pair of little girls.

Now that I'm older and thinking about it, I assumed I'd see things from the staff's point of view and be more appalled at that little prank. But actually, I'm not really. They should have given us more respect, because we never gave them trouble. This is how I came into my policy of never talking down to children, because I remember what those little bastards are capable of, and how long their memories can be of injustice.

I fought the power. And I was naughty. And I am proud. What about you?

When I was around three-four years old, my parents lost sight of me while in a town close to the holiday home they had rented during a vacation to the beach. Apparently, I remembered the way back to the house and walked it all by myself - it wasn't that far away but still quite the distance for a child of my age. I remember only bits and pieces, but I know that I didn't feel like it was that big of a deal back then. I know now that it was actually pretty dramatic and all, including them calling the police, who were already searching for me by the time I showed up as if nothing had happened.

I was one of those kids who feared nothing. Also, I think I'm sort of insane band lack some sort of basic sense of self-preservation.

I also had a phase of climbing things.

One summer, I was spending a few days out of town. We went on this day trip with a friend of mine and my mom and grandma, I think.

My friend was maybe 14 and I was 12 I think. There was some sort of rock formation there, and we decided we were going to climb it. Without gear, obviously. We got quite high up. There were actually some people climbing up with gear on the other side.

At some point I recall jumping from rock to rock where it was a loooong way down. Also I got stuck between two rocks and thoughts: Oh dear, I'll be in so much trouble now.

I got unstuck with his help eventually, and we did climb down after that. We never told our parents the full extent of it.

It was sort of badass, but I also feel somewhat sorry for the people who raised me.

Gah! The jumping from rock to rock, while way up high, gives me the heebie jeebies just reading it. You are fearless! Which was probably a good thing. If you'd got a case of nerves, you'd have been much more likely to fall.

I'm not petrified of heights, but they make me anxious - but it's not the heights that I'm afraid of, it's the falling. I like hiking and climbing, and I'm fine with leaning over a precipice with a railing. But when I went to Toroweap Point at the Grand Canyon, a sheer 3000 ft drop, I got that horrible twisty feeling in my stomach, and I was afraid to get too close to the edge. I am fearful. :)

The funny thing is, it can change. I think that about 1,5 years after this I started to slowly suffer from anxiety - and stuff I'm scared of...changed. I remember climbing up a lookout tower once, and there were these metal stairs - the kind that are "open" and you can see down. And about halfway my brain went "nope" and suddenly I was in a panic. I forced myself to climb up nonetheless, but since then I'm not too thrilled about heights.

I miss being fearless - because really, in the grand total of things, I don't think fearing things makes you more "safe".

I know what you mean about the Grand Canyon - doesn't help I tripped and fell there (not way down, of course, of I wouldn't be typing this). But despite that, I thought it was absolutely glorious.

I was about 8.

18 yo older brother of one of our mates was giving us major shit.

Took a swing at him.

It was the perfect punch, smooth and sweet. It was cinematic.

Laid him out.

aww cute :P

dunno what counts as "kid" or not, but with eleven I founded a "terrorist organisation" with my friends. The worst thing we did was to sneakingly trigger toy torpedos by closing our exercise books over them in school (it goes Bang! and you get soot on the last page. they couldn't prove it was us.). Otherwise it was more a parody of the paranoia and islamists at the time- as far as a kid
"got it".

It was two years after 9/11, so of course we got into trouble.

I was walking to school one day. I was eleven and this teenager on a bike came up to me and demanded my money. He had a gun and he would shoot me. I told him to fuck off and kept walking. He eventually left.

My parents were horrified when they found out. Looking back on it, I see it as another example of how ghetto my hometown is.

Holy shit! Just for clarification purposes, did you see the gun or did he just say he had it? Either way eleven-year-old you had rocks of titanium!

He just said he had it and I didn't believe him.

Da

You mad lucky.

dude, just get an account, you're cool

Don't get an acount. Trolls, man.

Used to sneak onto the grounds of the Berkeley Cyclotron, which back in the 50s had been one of the best-kept secrets in the country, but my day security had gotten more lax. I stole old lab equipment out of their trash.

Also me and my father found a small-time gold mine in the Nevada desert, which proved not to be abandoned after all, and we had to then talk our way out past the owners and their shotgun. But that was with my father, so I don't think it counts, any more than the time he and I went on an illegal trip through the storm drain system.

lol, I would read a novel about that

We used to live out in the bush. One time we were climbing trees and I jumped out and broke my foot.

I hobbled all the way home to mum (prob about two football fields of distance) which feels very far over branches, rocks and a broken ankle.

Not really badass, but I would do things like sign up for the school talent show promising to do things that I not only had no talent for and my mom would have to talk me down and make me tell my teacher I had to back out (although I never admitted to a teacher that the reason was because I didn't know how to do the thing). I think I figured I could learn how to do stuff by the time of the show or else I could just fake it - I don't think I had much appreciation for how much work it can be to become good at things like dancing or singing or breaking boards with your hand and figured I could do it too, no problem. I was a pretty shy, cautious, scaredy-cat kind of kid, and yet I had this weird bravado and inflated sense of my own abilities.

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[ SECRET POST #2885 ]

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