I swear I’m not crazy. No really. Why are you walking away?
An update on Facebook Drama Queen: she recently posted about something that is generally reviled by most thinking people, stating her strong distaste for the topic. As if she is blazing a trail of rebellion against something that, in reality, pretty much everyone agrees is crap. Her sycophants chimed in with words of support for her stance. She then posted that it was just how she felt, dammit, and screw the people who feel differently. (obviously I didn’t hide her, as I’d promised myself I would) (there’s just a certain level of entertainment here, mixed with vexation) (maybe I’m doing character research)
I was discussing weird fears with a friend the other day and feel compelled to share one of mine with you (not done with my lunch yet, so I need to keep writing). I have a mild case of OCD. It mostly involves me locking and re-locking our doors a few times each night before bed (the average is probably three, though I occasionally go up to five – I don’t count when I do it, I just do it until it’s “done”) (I think the number varies according to how stressed I am, but I’m not sure – I try not to obsess about it) (ha. ha.) But there are other not-grounded-in-reality fears that I have that are in no way (?) connected to my OCD. For instance, if I see a large ship in dry dock – like when my grandfather would take me to the Port of Houston where he used to work (he was editor of Port of Houston Magazine back in the day) – I immediately start to feel panic. Because, for whatever reason, I start worrying that I will be next to that boat when it is in the water, and I will be forced to swim down under the water to the bottom of the vessel, then go under it and have to come back up the other side. The enormity of the task – because there is way more boat under the water than above it – is what scares me. I’m sure it’s a metaphor for life or some bullshit like that, but it has me curious. What “crazy” fears like that do you have? Come on, you’re bound to have one or two. Please share.
A different thing that isn’t really a fear but more of a coping mechanism is something that my friend Lisa does too. When I’m going to fly, I carefully look at the people who are waiting for the same flight to make sure we don’t have one of each of the disaster movie characters in attendance. If I see a nun traveling with a guitar case, a very pregnant woman flying alone, a fat man who sweats too much and looks like he’s about to have a heart attack, a mixed-race couple very much in love, an old white couple with a sunburn who are very much not in love (and wearing shorts), a rebellious teenager with great hair, a religious teenager with great tits, a grizzled veteran with a slight limp and a distance in his eyes, a milquetoast guy who will end up being evil and an unwitting drug mule with a lisp, then I know the plane is going down. I have seen one or two or as many as three of these people waiting for the same flight but have been spared seeing them all. (I do not fall onto the list and am therefore not counted. Unless “sarcastic writer who likes to drink” is now one of the disaster staples.) (Now that I think about it, I probably do fall on the list. Shit.)