Cupcakes, Checks, Cherries & Comics

It’s been months since I’ve blogged. I’ve thought about it. No doubt there. I’ve meant to. Yep. But I’m a terminal procrastinator, and my life does not hinge on me blogging. I journal, and there I gather my thoughts, like daisies in a field. A bouquet in the making. Sometimes I get a weed or two. I throw those out. But if I don’t gather, I can’t throw out. It’s a way to keep me sane. Sometimes a favorite daisy gets stuck in my hair, right behind my ear so I can see it out of the corner of my eye. It makes me feel beautiful and agreeable. Innocent. Are we talking about daisies or thoughts and perceptions? Maybe both.

Sometimes I imagine really weird and rather hilarious things at random times. I guess that makes me really weird, hilarious and random. Like tonight, at work, I was eating a real cherry. Not a fake one mind you, but the good kind. The juicy, sweet, natural red cherry. Anyways, as I was eating, I observed how cherries look like hearts. But there is a pit in the middle that has to be avoided. It’s really hard and I’m always afraid I’ll break my teeth on it. Then I got to thinking. Is there a hard “pit” in my little cherry-like heart that people try to avoid? Idk. I just think stuff like that sometimes. That’s not a good example of hilarious, but it is random. A good example of hilarious would be me imagining a basketball game going in stop motion with stars and comic book effects animated above the heads of the players. Boom. Pow. Dunk. Squeak. (that would be the shoes.) A ref blows his whistle and points angrily at a player with the little squiggly lines circle above his head. Idk. It amuses me.

You know, recently, I’ve stopped apologizing when I say stuff like that. Like, “oh wow, that was so random and weird. I’m sorry.” Or, “Man, that made no sense. I’m sorry.” I’m tired of apologizing for thinking the thoughts that make me who I am. I’m me. I’ve stopped being someone else. Sometimes I subconsciously imagine I’m living like Buddy the elf. I’m a stranger in a foreign world that doesn’t appreciate the brilliance within me. Have you ever had cheetos and chocolate chip cookies for breakfast? It’s awesome. Do you ever lie in bed, fighting sleep, just so you can finish the story you were making up in your head? The late night stories are best because your mind is befuddled by the fuzziness of unconsciousness. Sometimes I rearrange my furniture in my bedroom at 2 am. Sometimes I use a hammer to kill spiders. I thoroughly enjoy being someone nobody can figure out. Is that wrong? Or bad? Or weird? I’m not apologizing for it, I’m just thinking out loud.

When I was little, I’d make Ken kidnap Barbie and make her wash his dishes because he didn’t want to do it. Then he’d give her a cupcake. And take her home. I’d also rollerblade through my kitchen. Or see how long I could jump rope before I either collapsed or had a bout with the ceiling fan. At church, I’d beat up boys and make friends with lonely cats. Once, I walked into a metal pole. Ok, it was more than once. I could never find good hiding spots for hide and seek. I loved playing baseball and I had a natural affinity for causing trouble with the neighborhood kids. I dreamed of my someday “happily ever after”, and made my own house by tying vines to a cluster of trees, and making rooms and doors and such. Then we’d play “farmer boy” with Cai, the weird neighbor kid, and use the local dogs as our best friends. We argued about what our names were and who grew what vegetable and who would own the store. I don’t even know if we ever got around to playing. We loved setting the scene so much.

Now, I attend school and daydream while pretending to study. I work and daydream while pretending to pay attention and get stuff done. (I really am capable of being a hard worker. I promise.) I watch a lot of movies. I love movies. I can’t even really explain it. It’s a love of mine. It’s more than escape. The different story lines and plots fascinate me. Because it only takes 2 hours for someone’s life to be fixed or changed forever. And I’m so ADHD that I find great pleasure in watching someone else’s life go so fantastically in such a small amount of time. I especially like it when one of the lead characters is quirky and unusual.

I can listen to a song a thousand times and not get tired of it. I can write songs like some people can write checks. Some of my songs bounce, but others get deposited into some bank somewhere.

I get a kick out of stringing a bunch of really random facts and facets and thoughts and observations together. I like to keep things lively and unique. Different and entertaining. It makes my life seem brighter, more exciting, more meaningful and distinctive. I like being spontaneous. I hope I can rub off on some really boring people.

Hey, that’s a heck of a bouquet.