YOU’RE MENTALLY ILL!
Thank you for your professional opinion… I mean diagnosis. Now I can start fires, say anything I want, run over baby ducks at the park, run naked through the YMCA, and engage in any kind of abhorrent antisocial behavior. And now that I’m “mentally ill” I can expect all of the protection and empathy that society offers the infirm. (Because I’m craaaaaaaazzzy. Wink wink.)
I think I’m tolerant. Mostly. I mean, I get kinda frustrated when I go through the McDonalds drive through for a medium coffee and routinely get the wrong change, but only because I’m pretty sure there’s a screen that recommends how many pennies, quarters, and ones to give back from a five when my coffee costs a buck-twenty-six. I’ve even tried to make it easy, digging in my change cup for a quarter and a penny to hand with a five-dollar bill. But my success ratio is dismal. I got $3.81 back today. Not $4.00, $3.81. I assume the difference was a tip. I couldn’t muster the energy to attempt to explain it to the cashier.
How do you see yourself? I don’t mean, what do you look like. How do you see yourself? Like, what do you think people see when you’re walking through a store? Or how does your significant other, kids, friends, and coworkers see you?
I’m aging. I don’t like it. Mostly because I think like an eighteen year old. Walking past a mirror and seeing my dad looking back usually snaps me back to the reality of true age. I even catch myself saying things like, “I remember when – not that long ago – we didn’t have cellphones….” or make some other reference that my kids or young employees can’t wrap their brains around. It’s the natural order. The timeline. But I don’t have to like it…or accept it… or pretend to adapt. I suppose my parents felt the same way. Continue reading “Waah Waahs”
I’m not a sissy. I stand by that. For my entire life I’ve made every effort to not be a sissy, yet there are things that make me weak-in-the knees and force involuntary – call it reflexive – outbursts of sissyness. For example, my family (and some coworkers) know that bats evoke episodes of sissy behavior. Sometimes shrieking’s involved. Sometimes not.
