Tuesday, July 20, 2010

The One Where My Brain is On Backwards and I Can't Stay On Topic

I swear, I'm going to finish some of the posts I've started, but for some reason, I'm just like. . .they aren't shiny and new to me anymore. They were awesome when I started them, but then I started to bore myself. And when you start to bore yourself, you're in trouble. Big Trouble.

Also of note, I went from 12 subscribers to 11. That made me. . .a lot more sad than it probably should have. I don't know who it was that dropped me, or what I did to offend them so. It was like (before I stopped caring) when I lost facebook "friends." I was like. . .wow. What have I done that is SO BAD that people don't want to be facebook friends with me anymore?

And then, of course, I started weeding out my facebook friends list, went from almost 600 friends to just under 335, and I continue to weed it occasionally. These people shouldn't necessarily take it personally. . .I just don't really care that much to keep up with them.

I'm a little all over the place today, and I actually wouldn't even be here (writing, I mean), had I not read a post by the lovely Aunt Becky about why she writes. Aunt Becky is one of those bloggers that I wish I knew in real life. She's awesome and crass and heartfelt (can one BE heartfelt, or do people just SAY heartfelt things?), and I'm not even exaggerating when I say that she sometimes may even make me feel better about myself. Call me lame, call me whatever. . .that's the way it is.

I have a book club meeting tonight. I can't remember if I mentioned the book I read, but it's "Still Alice," and it's about this 50-year-old woman with early-onset Alzheimer's. This book broke my heart, and I'm excited to talk to other people who read it, to see what they thought.

Of course, reading this book gave me yet another thing to worry that I have. I'm a hypochondriac of the worst kind, and I'm also horribly, horribly absentminded. So, in my mind, of course, Absentmindedness = Alzheimer's.

Some time, I'll have to tell you about the time I thought I had simultaneous cancer and liver failure, thanks to the blue ice cream.

I'll share this with you here: I've decided that my OCD is taking over my brain to such a large extent that I am actually therapist shopping right now. I'm not. . .terribly ashamed about it, but the problem that I have is actually, I know how drugs to tone down the problem can mess with you, and I've taken those, and I do not like them. I don't like how they make me feel, and I don't like how they make me think.

That may sound kind of weird, me not liking the way brain drugs alter my brain, but what I mean is, if I'm on something like that, I'm. . .less interesting. It's kind of like putting an artist on Ritalin. They just can't do the same things when they're not a little crazy. This concerns me. I battle enough with thinking I'm boring. But then again, during a screaming match I may or may not have had yesterday, I was accused of being "paranoid and delusional," so if that is, in fact, true, maybe my brain NEEDS to be altered.

I don't really know. I don't know why I feel the need to share this either, but there it is. So if I get really boring and my subscribers list drops from 11 to 8, and then from 8 to 3, and then, one day, I only have 1 left. . .that's probably why.

Since I can't seem to keep a straight train of thought, I'll leave you with a conversation I had with D after lunch. His car is in the shop currently, so he comes to get me for lunch.

Another thing you need to understand is that my parents (my mom and SDad) are gross. Like. . .in a nauseating kind of way. In the kind of way that my mother always has flowers at her desk that he bought her, and that there are little notes around their house that say things like, "I dove my Tschugah!" or "I miss my Tschugah!" (Um. . .Tschugah is kind of a bastardization of "Sugar," and that is what my parents call each other. They do not refer to each other by name. Ever.) (Also, dove = love. This is important later.)

So, we're pulling into the parking lot, and I don't even know what prompted this (it could have been the fact that my SDad was in the parking lot, waiting for my mother), but this is what happened:

D: I dove wu!
Me: Oh my God. OH MY GOD. Never again. Never. Again. We are not longer talking. OK, you can come and pick me up at 5, but I'm not speaking to you on the ride home.
D: But. . .I DOVE wu!

Probably, it was funnier in person. But it made D laugh.

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