It's only fair to start with myself. If I'm going to pick apart the people I love and who love me...and who represent the other side of the crazy scale from me...I should start at home. Get ready for a long therapy session. But...um...I've never been to therapy, so this is bound to get messy.
Where to start? Well...I think I'm pretty wierd, to be honest. I kind of have this chameleon ability to fit in with a lot of different people, but I don't revel in it...in fact...people freak me out most of the time. If given my preference, I would stay inside my home 99% of the time and only venture out when I can't face the four walls anymore. I like control. I like hosting parties instead of going to parties. I like having dinner at home instead of going to restaurants. I like not taking risks. Lately, I find myself to be awfully boring, a little growth stunted, and not a little bit superior in my attitude toward others. I hate change...it freaks me out...and I usually have to be dragged kicking and screaming into anything new (after many sullen and anxiety filled moments).
On the plus side (god I hope there is one) I'm generally a kind person. I work my ass off. I try really really hard to make sure people around me are happy. I like to laugh...and I love it when my husband makes me laugh. I'm a good wife more than I'm a bad wife. I am at my best when I'm needed. I enjoy a great book and, even more, talking about that book with a friend or my husband. I like art...and I love my husband the artist. I love my sister J. The other siblings are a bit of a mystery to me. I love my nieces and nephews, and 99.999% of the time I'm at peace with the decision I made not to have children of my own.
The holidays make me crazy. I mean have you ever seen Holly Hunter in "Home for the Holidays?" - yeah that's me, but I'm way less cool.
A friend recently observed that I tend to surround myself with troubled people. I paused for a moment and asked her...but how many of them are NOT related to me?
I sometimes yearn to win the lottery...but then I wonder what the hell I would do with all that money? I lack a sense of adventure. My imagination is limited to the little vignettes that play out in my brain. People tell me I can write, and I enjoy it - both the writing and hearing that people think I can...but I'm not sure I really believe it and I don't think I have the discipline, energy, or focus to pull anything together that could be deemed worthy of publishing.
I love luxurious things. I would love to own a great car. But when the chance arises, I cheap out when it comes to making the purchase. I have Niemen Marcus taste, and a Sears tolerance for spending. I lack the shopping discipline to save up and buy classic pieces, so my little tiny closet (sigh) is filled with cheap imitations that don't last through more than a few laundry cycles. I secretly want to be a fashion diva, but I dress hyper conservatively - right down to my black leather 2-inch heel pumps. The show and movie Sex and the City made me green with envy. The crazy fashion. The adventurous and high-priced Manhattan lifestyle. And the deep and abiding friendships of four women. You see I have many friends who I love to death, but who I'm not really sure I know or who really know me.
Lately I've noticed my anxiety is extending beyond my own life and connecting empathetically with fictional characters in movies and tv. I recently had to do a project for school that focused on improving Sears retail business. Now I watch Sears ads and my stomach muscles tense, wondering if business is improving.
Seriously. I'm getting nuttier by the minute.
So now that you know a little more about me, you can take my posts and my profiles of the rest of my crazy gene pool in context of my own little crazy point of view.
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