I have crazy-person pride.
Gone are the days when I would feel guilty about my obsessions with my health, my weight, other people’s opinions of me, and so on. I haven’t gotten any better: I’ve just accepted my own neurotic self. I say, “Up with crazy people!” Who’s with me?
Here’s how crazy I am: When I can’t locate an ache or pain to worry about, or torture myself with my insufficient bank balance, or obsess over whether or not I hurt a friend’s feelings, I like to listen really carefully to the noises my car makes when I’m driving around. Have you ever done this? Really listened hard to your car? Do you hear all those rattles and shimmies and hiccups? Sounds like it’s gonna blow, doesn’t it? Well, it probably will. And think how awful you’ll look, with your eyebrows burnt off. Just like David Bowie during the Aladdin Sane period, only with no excuses or groupies.
In the old days, I’d think about this kind of thing, and then I’d feel bad. “I’m really crazy,” I’d think mournfully. And then I’d wonder if my parents were paying my friends to listen to me ask them, again and again, if they were sure that I’m not dying, if my car really does sound okay, if my ass looks fat in these pants, or why such-and-such a boy is acting in such-and-such a way.
Now, however, I have developed a more charitable attitude toward myself. I catch myself thinking about these things, and instead of thinking, “Jesus, I need therapy,” I think, “Aw, there I go again. Worrying about nothing. That’s just like me.” Chuckle, chuckle. And then I worry some more.
But that’s OK! I’m completely fine with that now. However, I will require you to come here and tell me if you think this hair I just found along my part is really gray. I think it’s blonde, but I’m not sure. Look at it. Look. Is it gray? I think it might be.
Oh my God, it’s only a matter of time.
7 thoughts on “All power to the (crazy) people”
i hear ya smash…the older i get, the more OCD i get. it used to be just my pantry, you know, sleeping with the enemy style pantry organization. however, lately, i have noticed that i am slipping into one of those people that wont touch bathroom doorknobs/handles. you know the kind, they are nearly trapped in the bathroom for eternity because they cant get out without touching something.
but, more importantly, i need to know this. i am going to guess that you are 30 (i might be low or high, but it doesnt matter), you are clearly an intelligent woman, and seem to have some degree of street smarts. so what made you join myspace?
Excuse you: I am 28. I won’t be 30 for YEARS. YEARS AND YEARS, DO YOU HEAR ME?
As far as my intelligence goes, I’m not sure I deserve your compliment. My understanding was that MySpace wasn’t a dating site. And I’d argue that I’m not wrong — it’s a creepy sex-stalker site, for boys who can’t get it into their thick skulls that girls don’t want to IM dirty things with complete strangers, or mail them naked pictures, or tell smutty stories, or any of that crap. Find a girl who’s willing to do that, despite the fact that she doesn’t know you? She’s a man, guaranteed.
Only one grey hair? man you’re lucky, I have at least ten. From what I know you don’t have to worry much because grandma didn’t have to use hair color untill she was in her fifties. My mom, on the other hand, went grey after she had Marco, and is a pro at hair color, although she tells me not to use it because it’s so messy (does that seem fair?), but not to take anything away from your suffering, greys are traumatic, and I don’t think you’re crazy, at least not for this worry.
sorry for the age miscalculation, it wasnt based on anything, just a wild guess…but now that i look at your photo, you dont look a day over 21!
well, i stumbled across myspace, and quickly learned that its mainly a site for teenagers and retarded adolescent post teenagers. but i find myself aimlessly bouncing from person to person, through their friends network, and looking for the biggest freak in each set. then going to their friends and doing the same thing. it only takes about two bounces until you come across some VERY scary people (the rest are just scary).
sorry again about the 30 comment smash, no offense intended.
Oh, no worries — I’m not offended. I’m just joshin’ ya.
As far as my picture goes, I should warn you that it was taken seven years ago after my collagen treatments, but really, I still look exactly like that.
Not to add to the crazy or nothing, but have you considered hairloss to be a greater threat?
Grey Hair. Bane of my existence. I’m 25 and I have to colour my hair every 3 weeks or so.
But WHAT ABOUT THE NETHER REGIONS?!?! WHAT IF THAT GOES GREY?????
This is what preoccupies my mind every time I look in the mirror and pluck out an intruder. Then I collapse onto the floor in a pile of death.