Self-Explanatory

Self-Explanatory
just one of my hats.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Alert, Alert

This is the 24th blog post I've ever written. Other than my three sprouts, and the gem of a man I landed for a husband, this may be my greatest accomplishment to date. What? There are bloggers out there with hundreds, even thousands of posts of their own? Yes, but they are not Me.

Imagine your brain. I know, kinda gross...go with me...I'm going somewhere with this, promise. Now imagine those new, freakish little toys they market to parents who refuse to buy a real rodent (who, me?)...you know the ones....Zhu Zhu pets. Man, those things really freak me out. Not quite as much as the fake "real" cat my neighbor got for her daughter though. The thing would just look at you or make a mew when you entered the room and all of a sudden it was Bride of Chucky all over again.

Incidentally, I am currently sitting on our deck, it's 7:08 AM and I just did my first "cup the hot cup of coffee in the cold brisk fall air" thing. Yes, it felt just as good for me as itdoes for that chick on the Folger's commercials. There was no Irish step dancing though. There will never be any step dancing. I'm sorry if you thought there might be.

So back to Zhu Zhu, now that I've illustrated, in a most ironic, unknowing sort of way, the state in which my mind constantly resides. Sometimes I think of it as one step away from an institution....other times, rarely, a gift. One thing I've recently stopped doing (ok, about 5 minutes ago when I thought of this) is referring to it as something I've been "stricken" with, my "plight". That's mainly because my therapist back in OH, who I adore, would tell me it's probably a good idea. And she's pretty much right there after God. It goes: God, my therapist, coffee. Wait...no....maybe God, my therapist, the color kelly green? Anyway.

I refuse to label the way I think, even though I have many times in the past and I'm sure in this blog. I'm sick and tired, quite frankly, of the way It is viewed, distorted, abused. When a psychotherapist diagnoses someone with it these days, they may as well be saying, "sure, no problem, I'll write you the freakin Adderall....hey, I've got another patient in five minutes....oh no! no problem! you totally passed the (five question, yes-or-no answer) test....got all the classic symptoms....k! call me for that refill! you know you've got (insert any small type of project requiring the smallest mental fortitude here) coming up".

I write in run-on sentences, fragments of thought, and parentheses. I rest my case. Not that you were arguing it, if you're still reading.

My father, who I completely respect and value, has always complimented me on my gift of writing. Secretly I think it kind of bugs him to death to read my stuff like this. Though I think I've yet to meet a man so easily unruffled, I'm pretty sure he'd much prefer for me to wrap things up in a more tidy, readable fashion. He just looks out for me. Maybe if I could do that - learn how to tame this Zhu Zhu pet-riddled brain with some better punctuation, complete metaphors, etc. - maybe I could even write a book. For now though, this blog is my release, my escape into (or maybe escape from?) Me world.

I think tomorrow (or later today, or in a week or a year) I will start chronicling my search for my biological mother. That should be interesting.

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