Why are you reading this?

I know I’ve gotten old.  They said on the news that we’re going to have four inches of snow overnight and I thought, “Crap, I better get to bed early because I’ll need extra time to shovel.” 

Seriously, what the hell?  When did I grow up and get all responsible and stuff?

Okay, to be fair, I spent ten years trying to be responsible and grown up.  But let’s face it, it didn’t work for me.  Or if it was working, I was constantly being told that it wasn’t.  Either way, I’d pretty much decided that I was just gonna be me.

However, from time to time, I have these intrusive thoughts.  Sometimes, they’re just random, mundane thoughts like the snow things.  Other times, they’re more intrusive.

For example, the other day, I had a customer.  His hairpiece was on crooked.  We talked about finances and I’m sure I said the appropriate things, but all the while, there’s this voice in my head saying:  “Do you think he knows?  Does he always wear it like that? Should I tell him?  How does it say on in that exact position without sliding off?  Why would someone ever wear something like that?”

It’s been said that I don’t have a filter, that I say anything without regard to the consequences.  That I’ll ask anything.  That’s far from the truth.  You may think I am saying whatever pops into my head, but to be honest, I censor about 90 percent of my random thoughts.

I confess, these things usually come in the form of questions.  Not always, but I’d say about 80 percent of the time.  Somewhere along the line, I’ve learned not to ask so many.  Perhaps my parents yelled at me one too many times.  Or perhaps after so long I’m just embarrassed that my mind doesn’t really work like other people’s minds.  Answers that seem simple to others elude me.  Which is probably why I ask all the questions I do.

But I don’t ask all the questions I want to.  Why?  Who? What? When? Where?  How?  I want to know what makes people tick.  I want to dig into their brains and find out why they make the decisions they do.  Simple decisions and difficult ones.

Especially for stuff I don’t understand.  I want to know why some people are capable of depravities that turn my stomach and why other people can’t face a drop of blood on the sidewalk.  I want to know why my brother would go to Toft’s when we were kids and look at those dozens of ice cream flavors and always (ALWAYS) choose vanilla.  I want to know why I have friends who are bird fanatics and friends who are terrified of birds.  I want to know why a person who believes something doesn’t want to accept that others can believe something opposite and still be a good person.

I don’t get it.  Why?  Why don’t I get it?  Why does it happen?  Why can’t someone answer?

I’m asking myself a lot of questions too…it’s not just others.  I want to know why I don’t believe I can do this 5k thing.  I want to know how I will feel if I do manage to do it.  I want to know how someone who is bright and intelligent can choose to marry a man who spends a decade chipping away at her self esteem and telling her she can’t do anything, all why he lies on the couch and does nothing.  I want to know how to make sure I never fall stupid in love again so I don’t get hurt and so I don’t surrender my soul trying to make a chronic complainer happy.  I want to know what happens next.

I watch couples in the store, at Cedar Point, on the islands, and I wonder what it is that makes them a couple.  What do they bring to the table for each other?  I once saw a horrendously obese couple waddling out of a restaurant with a baby in a carrier and I wondered….how did that happen?  Is he that big?  What are the logistics of a thing like that?  I watch wrestling and that guy they call “the Big Show” with his hands the size of basketballs and I ask “Is he proportional?”

I wonder why some people think abortion is wrong, but killing doctors is okay.  I want to know what happened to a person who loses his mind.  I want to know what it feels like to loose control.  I want to know what it feels like to be in complete control.

I’m full of questions.  When I’m talking to you, there’s other parts of my brain that are constantly working.  It’s compartmentalized and usually it doesn’t seep out; usually I listen and hear.  But sometimes, I lose track.  I apologize.  I don’t know why I do that.  I can tell you that you will never guess where that part of my brain is going.  It could be that the color of your shirt matches the background in one of Raphael’s paintings.  It could be that I just wish I could have the personality trait that you’re exhibiting; what would it be like if I could say that? 

People are fascinating.  I don’t know why.