It isn’t like I take pride in my weirdness, but I know I’m weird and I accept that about myself. Yes, I frequently amuse myself to the point of chuckling at thoughts that run around my head and I’m strangely okay with this.
I suppose part of it has to do with being so much younger than my sister. When I was in my developing stages, she was a teenager and had no time for a bratty little sister. Yes, I have a younger brother, but he’s several years younger than me, so I was basically an only child until he became interesting. I embrace the fact that I had so much alone time as a kid because it helped me develop a very active imagination. Sometimes too active, but we’re not going into that.
My imagination is what made me start writing and now that I have a release, my weirdness keeps growing and growing. Take for instance this weekend. I was with people who don’t know me well (my nephew’s girlfriend’s parents) and the conversation I had with my sister on the drive came up.
First it was about how I got TJMaxx and TG&Y (a dollar store) mixed up. Okay, I can laugh about that because it was silly. But then I had to explain that sometimes a lot of caffeine isn’t a good thing for my thought process because it makes me take these huge leaps of logic that have no…logic.
Like Superman. Over at gee/k/ink last week, Charlotte Stein (who is an orsom writer, by the way) was talking about her favorite superhero who is Superman. She was very frank and open about him. Of course that meant I had to go several steps further and wonder if Superman was always super, then he had to have been a super baby, but how in the hell did his mom survive labor? Did he use his laser vision to perform his own C-Section? Did she have a super uterus which could withstand his super strength and laser vision? Could you imagine the kinds of kicks she had to endure during her pregnancy?? And if everyone on the home planet was super, how in the hell did they become extinct anyway? Shouldn’t they have been able to prevent it the way Superman protected Earth?
These are the things I ponder when I’m driving for six hours on a cup of coffee and a massive, never-ending cup of Diet Coke. Be scared. Be very scared.
I have no problem sharing these inane thoughts with people, which is why my co-workers look at me like I should be in a padded cell with a pack of Crayons and construction paper. But I’m okay with that because that’s who I am. If I have this weird need to see how my foot measures up against the seams in a wood-paneled wall, well…I’ve done it since I was a kid and I can’t stop it now.
I hate spaghetti noodles, but I like spaghetti sauce (with any other kind of noodle). I have to peel the labels off of beer bottles and paste them to the tables in the bar. These are just a few things that I know make people stare, or wonder, but I don’t care.
What weird things do you accept about yourself that other people might not?