Fear makes you late to your dentist appointment. You overthink every little thing you are going to say to the receptionist. Perfectionism is on your brain and you can’t snap out of it. Then the receptionist asks you how you are doing and you word vomit all over her so now you just have this pile of spitball slush that you can’t clean up because you don’t have a word mop for all the English papers that come flying out of your mouth.
After the appointment you have a second pile of spitball slush waiting to be fired out to your next target because you just learned something new. The question is, who is going to be your next target? You contemplate talking to Nala, but she’s been cranky for demanding an earlier feeding time since 6:00 a.m. when you crawled out of bed to attempt to not be late to your dentist appointment. Now that it’s 10:00 a.m. she’s not ready for your spitball slush – female feline needs to eat!
The text rolls in and already you’re overthinking your response to a ding you can only hear and not see. It’s almost your feeding time so you decide to grab lunch first and make it to your next Saturday appointment before having a picnic in your car to guarantee that this time you will be punctual. You get there early instead and perfectionism kicks into gear again. In six months you get to battle with fear again, only by then, you will have taken 500 naps to prepare for the moment you walk into the dentist’s office.
The sun had finally set. The day was finally over. All was quiet – until that fateful knock at the door…I froze in the middle of doing the dishes and Mom looked up. Two women were standing on our front porch and they were the kind of women not welcome inside our home, the Belle Watlings of the world. We were perturbed, for there really was no reason for these kinds of women to be coming to our house. Who could they be?
All we knew was they drove a white van and they were looking for something. Or someone…We didn’t answer the door and in a few boring minutes, they walked back to their van, pulled out some paper which I’m assuming has directions, then pulled away.
I finished the dishes and kept thinking about where these women came from and where they were headed. A dinner party? No, that can’t be right. Unless it was Great Gatsby style, there’s no way they were going to a dinner party dressed like that. Were they looking for people to convert? Ha! Unless it was some Magic Mike religion, there’s no way they were evangelists.
Whatever these women were up to, they were long gone now and on their way to the Right Place. For their sakes, I hoped they got there.
We are all doctors. I’m having anxiety over having anxiety. This diagnosis happened only because I was scrolling through Facebook and I found a list a Friend had shared over the symptoms of anxiety. I have every single one of them and then I became anxious reading over the list. Then I laughed at this silly exercise because maybe I don’t have anxiety at all and am only suffering under Med School Reading Anxiety. You read about a disease in a book and from the listed symptoms think you have that disease because you are exhibiting those symptoms. Does that make us all doctors if we can read? Yeah, I’m probably anxious. It’s making me antsy just thinking about possibly having anxiety vs. possibly suffering under Med School Reading Anxiety. Maybe I’m looking into this too much. Maybe I have something totally different. I don’t know what that is exactly, but I do have a vague idea. Only I don’t know what it’s called. Hypochondriac comes to mind. Don’t get me wrong though. That’s NOT the same thing as Med School Reading Anxiety. Now I think I’m just suffering under Verbosity. Oi. This is me having anxiety over having anxiety.
I’m looking through a list of not so famous last words and am surprised to see “What duck?” on it. I’m trying to imagine what that line means exactly. Only I can’t because I keep coming up with nothing. This must be some duck if it contributed to someone’s last words. I’m imagining one that is a giant and wears a combat helmet and barks orders. That’s the first thing I think of, and it didn’t come to me right away. My second thought is a normal-sized duck that runs around and bites people. I just don’t know if one is vicious is enough to kill a human being. Plus that behavior reminds me more of a goose than a duck. Duck, duck, goose! Or maybe this duck is supposed to be a metaphor or something. Nah. That can’t be right. Whatever it is, this duck came as a surprise, messed up someone’s plans, thus ending their life. o.O It doesn’t seem to have a sense of humor either. I hope I never run into this duck…
What if you could plant an animal and raise a plant? No rules, just straight up it would work. No logistics, just straight up animals growing up in a garden with roots and all. They could run around like their usual animal selves, but somehow they’d be planted on land at the same time. No sunshine necessary, just straight up plants staying grounded, yet mobile all over the land and sea. Like an oxymoron of sorts? I’m not sure that is the right word, but you know what I mean.
If these things were possible we could re-shape farm life. (Obviously.) But maybe plants and animals wouldn’t even be considered part of farm life anymore. These new organisms would become part of a brand new world. Plants and animals would serve different functions than they do now. What that would be I really don’t know…yet…
Mothers of good girls will never understand why their daughters are attracted to bad boys. Mothers of bad boys will perpetually understand why their sons are attracted to good girls. The good girl/bad boy combo makes me think of Jess and Rory and Landon and Jamie. It didn’t quite work out between the first couple, but it worked out for the second couple. That’s because Landon changed. Jess didn’t. The bad boy must eventually turn good to keep a good girl. Lorelai never approved of Jess, but she let her daughter make her own mistakes. Luke, albeit not Jess’ mother, approved of Rory and even encouraged the relationship, believing she will be a good influence on his bad boy nephew. I’d say she was, considering he eventually became the one ex-flame who could set her straight whenever she strayed from her good girl path. When she dropped out of Yale, he came to visit her and call her out. When she lost her journalism gigs, he told her to write a book about something she’s passionate about.
Meanwhile you’ve got Jamie’s father who absolutely did not approve of Landon and Landon’s mother asking him to be careful with Jamie since she was the Reverend’s daughter. Because of who Jamie was, Landon changed and told his mother so when she found his little piece of paper that had a big dream on it to get into medical school. Landon changed so much he became the miracle Jamie wanted to witness and only then did the Reverend accept him for who he was. Clearly, opposites attract, but don’t last unless one of the opposites changes to be like the other opposite.
There are times I really want to scream my head off. No, not times. All the time.
And not because life sucks or I’m depressed or I’m bipolar. (No disrespect to anyone who is feeling this way. For real. I mean it.) I just have so many thoughts they feel like they’ll confetti out of my head.
That’s it? Just a plethora of thoughts? My grandma can hold 1,000 thoughts in her head simultaneously without a helmet on.
That doesn’t even make sense.
Tee-hehe! Ryan Higa humor for you!
Nothing. You’re so immature. When are you going to pull out of a Peter Pan and grow up?
I wish my brain would think differently. But I don’t even know exactly what differently would look like. Or rather, sound like. Maybe it just needs silence. What does that sound like? I feel like that is impossible. No matter how quiet it is, there is always some noise. The hum of your laptop. An airplane flying overhead. Creaks in the wooden floor. Water running through pipes.
Maybe silence just means eclectic.