Most kids, when asked what they want to be when they grow up, I guess would say that they want to be a fireman because of the "hero" factor and being able to scare the shit out of people with those loud ass sirens. Other kids usually answer that question by claiming that they want to be policemen, possibly with visions of protecting the land mixed with getting a cat out of a tree running through ones mind. I guess there are other stock answers you would think a kid would give like an "astronaut", "nurse", "doctor", or some other profession that you make you think that an immediate cat scan wasn't needed based on a logical answer.
Lets just say that I was a very unique kid, because when the assignment was to write a report on what we wanted to be when we grew up, I just knew that my answer would blow everyone's doors off. As I sat through the obligatory choices, patiently waiting while my intellectually inferior classmates rambled ad naseum, I couldn't wait until it was my turn. When it was my turn, even though I articulately broke down what I wanted to be when I grew up and why, as soon as I said I wanted to be "Yoda" when I grew up the class and the teacher erupted in laughter. Still desperate to state my case, I aggressively argued that "Yoda got to hang out on a cave all day, was a master fighter, could move things with his mind, and the wisdom that he handed down was priceless." Even though my presentation didn't go well, and it probably didn't help my case that I said "who wants to be a damn cop anyway, they kill black people!" as I sat back down in my seat in protest, at the grizzled age of 32 I still don't think being Yoda is such a bad idea to be totally honest.
Even though my reasons now for being Yoda have changed somewhat, like me embracing wearing a robe and having the ability to "free ball" it whenever I wanted to, chopping random assholes arms off at my local bar with my light saber when they get "out of pocket", and the mere fact that I would be 2'2" and would love to see a woman's face when I claim that we are all "the same size laying down!", it would incite laughs as far as the eye could see. But the coolest thing about being a 500 year old Jedi master would be the wisdom that I could pass down to whoever asked, from life lessons to what to use to get out blood stains.
Besides the fact that I nicknamed my mother "Yoda" for her stellar advice, and the fact that I was listening to Juniors "Mama used to say"(a song about the words of wisdom from his mother) I thought I would document things passed down to me that continue to have an affect on my life.
Mama used to say: "Those who sleep with dogs will rise with fleas." When my mother first said this to me she was referring to an extremely loose woman that I was dealing with in college that she had warned me about. Even though my mother had told me that she felt that the woman in question was no good, a parasite, and a complete waste of space, I ignored her warning because I was "in love". Well, moms was right, the woman in question had indeed served more men than an army chow line, and on top of that she was married, so when her husband that I wasn't aware of came home and shoved a pistol barrel in my cheek I was heartbroken to say the least. When I told my mother about it that's when she said, "Those who sleep with dogs will rise with fleas.", and that has always stuck with me.
But that phrase isn't just for lovers, it could also be a cautionary tale about no good friends who you should stay away from at all cost. Case in point, I was good friends with a dude who was knee deep in the world of street pharmaceuticals, and based on our friendship I became too acquainted with a couple of Virginia Beach's finest.
Grandma used to say: "Revenge is a dish best served cold": When I look back on my recollections of my grandmother I get kind of sad, primarily because my family treated her like a geriatric "hot-potato", hoping that they wouldn't get stuck with her. Granted, she was an absolute handful with her drinking and what not, but maybe my rose colored glasses that I'm wearing right now makes me think that she wasn't that bad. Anyway, during a time period that she was living with my family, I had came home crying because some random asshole had taken my lunch money and punched me dead in my face. As I stood in front of my grandmother hoping to get a warm embrace from her, possibly telling me that everything was going to be alright, she forcefully grabbed my wrist and brushed my face with my own hand and yelled "Wipe that shit!! Wipe that shit!! All that god-damned crying!!!"
She sat me down, told me not to tell my parents or even my teacher, but to get revenge the next day. She said that I shouldn't even put any food on my plate, walk over to the bully, and bash him over the head until someone stops me. She said, "Revenge is a dish best served cold!! Show that motherfucker that no one is going to mess with my grandson!!" The next day, armed with her words of encouragement and her promise that I wouldn't get in any "real" trouble because I wasn't 18, I walked over to the bully and beat him like a fucking bass drum. Lets just say that that bully not only stopped fucking with me, but did his best to become my new pal the rest of the year.
My father used to say: "An idle mind is a devil's workshop": Even at the age of 32, I always want to be busy because I know that me and boredom haven't exactly had the best history in the world. When I was a kid and had a significant amount of idle time on my hands, I set someones yard on fire, impaled a few kids with a friend's nail gun, urinated off a 12 story building on passers-by, stuck my penis out of a school bus window at a bunch of nuns, and a gang of other shit. Now that I'm an adult I don't do things as juvenile as the stuff I just mentioned, but my "idle time mistakes" usually have something to do with women that I later regret sleeping with.
For some reason, when I'm bored somehow I forget my paranoid and germaphobic nature, so that cashier who looks like she is a veteran penis holder all of a sudden looks like a prime conquest. Then, after said encounter of "sweating and smiling", I get all paranoid and immediately make a doctors appointment hoping that my dick doesn't start glowing in the dark.
Mama used to say: "Practice doesn't make perfect, perfect practice makes perfect": The best example of this was the time period that I played Pee-Wee baseball and kept striking out. Besides me not being able to hit the broad side of a barn, I would literally close my eyes when the ball came in my general vicinity. I practiced religiously, all day long, but on game day I would exhibit the same deplorable habits that I always did. That's when my mother took me to the ball park with about 20 baseballs, and worked with me by literally hitting me with fast pitches until I kept my eyes open every time. It was pretty brutal, getting pelted with baseballs for an hour, but it helped me keep my eyes open to avoid any further punishment. I still remember my mother putting her arm around me after that particular practice, saying "Make sure you don't tell them how you got those bruises on your arm, people will start thinking that I'm abusing you!!!"