I am about to share with you the innermost workings of an insane neurotic, gal who by all accounts can only be “cured” by organizing her insanity so that it is no longer insane, but merely part of her charm, and ultimately just quirky.
When I was a child I was obsessed with Big Bird and all the characters of Sesame Street. My mother says that I would sit in front of the T.V. in complete awe of Big Bird. It was because of this that I was given the nickname “Bird” by my Aunt Jane. This obsession this fascination has not ended. This love of Big Bird has not subsided in time. In fact I am completely convinced that Big Bird was my first core-shaking, true love. A true love that has never left my veins. That still grips me when a 10 foot tall yellow feathered monstrosity with long orange and pink striped legs walks in my view.
Exhibit 1: Big Bird was on Jimmy Kimmel last night. Who knew that Big Bird was so funny and such a smart ass. Who knew in the matter of a week I would be bombarded with such reminders of the first love that I walked away from. You see it started last Monday when this appeared on my home screen:
Then the Jimmy Kimmel last night…I was on Big Bird overload, which lead me to do the following insane action. Disclaimer–I couldn’t stop. Once I snapped the first one, I couldn’t stop. I COULDN’T STOP. Please don’t judge me:
Yep that’s right, I took pictures of big bird on the tv. [hangs head in shame]
I make lists. I have been talking about my lists a lot with you, my dear friendly readers, but what I have failed to do is actually show you the origins of my lists. The origins of these lists come from the over-drive nature of my brain. The fact that during the day, every day, my scratch paper for work becomes an illustration of insanity in the margins. It takes over. On my little sheets of paper you will see measurements, lists that say things like: front elevation, detail at reception mill work, framing note on A457, etc. The things on that list are true checklists to meet a deadline, but the notes, the quotes, the questions, the doodles, the whatever takes form in the margins is insanity. The papers look as if they were written by my alter ego working for the French CIA to decipher the heartbreak warfare of song lyrics. Observe: I mean really, the bad thing is if you look very closely, you can see were my actual to-do list is…floor joists, update elevations, etc. But then there are the doodles. Lots of doodles, most of the big ones are from being on the phone. The others are as I hear a song lyric that I like. This can’t be normal. In the first page you can’t even see where one thought begins and another begins.
I drink a route 44 coke each and every morning. It makes me feel sick, because it started as me getting the larger size because it was cheaper than the smaller ones. Once upon a time I never finished it…That is not the case anymore. I finish it. I finish it come hell or high water. I don’t care that my stomach and bladder are telling me to stop. I am finishing the coke. It mocks me if I don’t. I don’t care if it gives me the worst chest pains because the carbonation has nowhere to go but my blood stream. I am finishing the coke! I have no image proof of this, but you must trust…it is insane. It makes me sick. I am hoping writing this down serves as my self intervention. However, it brings up another issue: I consulted with Batista. I said, “Batista, I am writing down my insanities for tonight’s blog. Do you have anything you would like to add. Her answer, “Just your fear of committment. LOL” I would like the record to show that I have committed to my route 44 coke with a vengeance. The end.
lifetimes of paper rainbows…W the quirky artichoke