Another Excuse

I find that I am easily confused. This is only fair, given that I'm easily confusing too, but somehow that doesn't make it any easier for me to cope when I'm at an ice cream shop or am walking down the street on Christmas Eve, and see lots and lots of people wearing glowing devil horns. The people dressed up as animals, that I could deal with. But the devil horns was just a tad bit too much for me. I honestly don't know what I would have done if they'd tried to hide my coat.

Likely I'd have tried clicking my heels together chanting "There's no place like home, there's no place like home," thereby reinforcing the widely-held belief that I'm easily confusing whilst convincing the rest of the world which doesn't yet know it that I'm certifiably insane. But I've lost the certificate.

I think that I handle most changing situations fine. My head has yet to explode as it tries to deal with paradoxen, and even has managed to create a few on its own. But yet, even with the ability to handle the difficult questions I seem to have, I still manage to get confused. Maybe it's a defensive measure that helps keep the universe from exploding whenever I see myself walking down the street.

Either way, I'm still going to start using it as an excuse. "I'm confused... why did I get out of bed this morning, again? Oh well, back to sleep for me, I guess!"

It's Not Easy, Being Green

I think that I've decided that green isn't. There really isn't any color there, but our eyes think that no color at all is boring and would make them feel useless. So they interpret the lack of color for us.

The consequences if they didn't would be horrible, though, you have to admit. No more green means I'd try to walk through the huge wall instead of using the door to get to the next room, and end up hurting myself pretty badly.

I wouldn't ever know if my plants were doing well, or if someone had snuck in and stole them in the middle of the night. I'd end up watering them, hoping that it was doing some good, until the day I decided they must not be there any longer, as there's no chance I could manage to keep a plant alive for so long. But once I stopped watering, of course the plant would die, proving that it had been there in the first place by changing to brown.

I'd also no longer be able to wear my green shirts, of which I have a few, or my green flannel, which is the only flannel I have anymore, since my blue one decided that adding a few holes would be an interesting experiment in the conservation of matter. I'd have to wear some other color of shirt for obvious reasons. I'd have to find a new flannel, as this one would have gone missing ages ago.

And, of course, my eyes would probably be right. If they're not willing to show me what's there, what good are they? They'd be pretty boring, and I'd start using them less, instead developing my sense of hearing and practice echo-location.

I don't want to have to sleep upside down. I'm glad I can still see the color green.

Well, It's Not Santa

There I am, still in my pajamas, minding my own business and playing a computer game when I hear a key in my front door. Or my neighbors front door, I think at first, but as time goes and the key keeps rattling around, the door banging, I realize that my first guess was correct, there's someone trying to get into my apartment.

Being 10am, I wasn't too worried that it was a burglar. Well, being 10am and the person trying to get in being obnoxiously loud about it. And with several people having just moved into the complex, I figure someone's probably got the wrong apartment and will realize their mistake shortly. And I don't feel like pausing my game. So I continue to ignore the shaking of my front door.

And they're still there.

Finally, I give up. I pause my game when I hear the person starting to knock. If they've not figured it out by now, I should send them on their way, let them stop wasting their time. So I get to my front door, open it, and ask, "hello?" of the person in my doorway. She sees me, gives a shriek, and /then/ glances at the number on my door. Comprehension dawns as she apologizes before running up the stairs to the apartment above me.

What kind of person wastes a handful of minutes trying to use a key in a lock that it obviously doesn't open without checking the number on the door?

Night Lights and Pajamas

I'm such a confusing person. Confused most of the time too, but certainly not constant, because then I could be understood. I just can't seem to make up my mind, not that I really have all that much say in it.

I was a short, skinny kid. For a little while. And then I was a short, slightly bigger kid. And then I got skinnier again, and put on some more weight, and again got skinny, but through it all, all the way through high school, I remained a fairly short blonde-haired, bluish-eyed kid.

Ok, maybe my eyes weren't really blue, either. Sometimes they seemed to be more of a green, sometimes more of a grey. Sometimes you thought it was because of the clothes that I'd be wearing, some colors making my eyes seem one color, some the others. But sometimes it didn't, sometimes my eyes would even seem different to other people.

And I'm not really sure that my hair was really blonde either. It was really light blonde when I was young, but I'm not sure when it changed to more of a brownish color, 'cause when I think about myself, I'm still like four years old and wearing footie pajamas.

But then, after high school, first year in college, I finally grew up. Gained a good deal of height, and apparently became less confusing. In some ways. But I still miss my footie pajamas.