mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Don't Let The Cool Hair Fool You I have a problem, something I worry will evolve into insanity or at a bare minimum, severe mental illness. It's something that I have tried numerous times to remedy, or at least control. It's something I do without the slightest bit of self-awareness. I talk to myself. Now, I know what you're saying, "Mrs-Roboto, everybody does that from time to time. It's perfectly natural." There are times when such behavior is warranted. Maybe there is a particularly difficult task to be accomplished at work, something you need to discuss out loud in order to make sense of it? Perhaps, you are at a store and see an ingenious invention and exclaim "Wow, that's great and I must have it!" You can even speak to yourself when confronted with a shocking fact as in "What the hell? The new Real World will be taking place in Vegas and the cast will live in a actual casino!" These are all acceptable examples of talking to ones self. This is not at all what I do. I don't really know where to begin with all of this. I wasn't really aware of just how bad the situation had gotten till I started living with Pete and he began to "catch me" conversing with myself. Since I lived alone prior to this cohabitation, it's possible that I have been doing this for a long time, maybe even for my entire life. So what is I do that makes this so bizarre, so different from what other people do? Well, for one thing, my talking out loud to myself often takes place in the form of a two person conversation. Usually, I am replaying some incident from the day in my mind and commenting on what I should have said or done. Often there is great gesticulation and varied facial expressions as I go through the event. Apparently, I am sane enough to begin these little conversations when I am alone but often I fail to stop them before Pete appears in the room. I even respond out loud to silent thoughts I am having in my head. Yesterday I was riding the bus home and thinking about what a certain recipe was missing. I cried out "parsnips" in a rather shrill voice which caused the lady sitting next to me to jump. I just smiled at her and continued chatting myself up in my head. A better example of my impending insanity would be the night Pete and I went out to see Fight Club at the movies. We were driving back home, talking about how great it was, what an original plot, etc. When we reached the house there was an unknown car parked in front of it. Now I know this is stupid and I know that street parking is first come, first serve, but I HATE it when people park in front of my house. I am very territorial and well, the spot directly in front of my house is my spot, okay? Also, Sir Volvo was about 8" over my driveway which is no way to get on my good side. I looked around and noticed that all the spots on the block were taken up by strange vehicles and loud music was pumping out of the apartment on the corner. A party was in full effect, which was all good and fine but where was I to park? I very carefully paralleled in front of my driveway, leaving very little room for Sir Volvo to pull out of and after a bit of bitching to Pete about the situation, headed up to the house. Pete was in front of me by a few feet. He had his keys out and was focused on getting inside but my eyes were on the party and a couple who were leaving. They looked to be in their mid 30's or so. The man had long hair, pulled back in a ponytail and was stumbling in my direction. His lady friend was tall and thin, with straight hair and a flowy dress. I heard him turn to her and say "Hold up. I'm going to take a whiz." He then headed up onto my neighbors property. By now, Pete had the door open and he turned around to let me proceed inside but I was already across the lawn at our neighbors with a hand on the guys shoulder. "Oh, don't you even think about it," I told him sternly. "I don't know who you think you are or where you're from that you think you can just piss wherever you like but we don't do that kind of shit here in Ballard, get it?" Now remember, I am 5' 2" and small framed. Even when I puff myself up as big as I can, I am hardly intimidating but that night I had something, a certain glow. I don't know if it was the movie, or some sort of neighborhood pride, or the fact that I just don't like guys who have ponytails but I was obviously out of control and not to be messed with. The guy put away his equipment as quickly as he could and retreated towards the girl who was already waiting at the Volvo. Yep, the same Volvo that had set me off earlier, the same one that was in my spot! "Hey," I called. "You better watch it! What are you some kind of animal? Peeing in public, you are a loser!" Pete looked over at me, still trying to grasp what was happening. "It's over," the girl said. "We're sorry. We're leaving." "Yeah," I said. "Get in your car and go! You hear me??!! And I'll be watching you so if you so much as tap my car I'll kick your ass." The couple very slowly navigated their way out of the spot I'd boxed them into and drove off never to be seen again. Pete made some comment about no more testosterone driven films for me and we went inside. Pete headed into the kitchen to pour us each a beer and when he reemerged in the living room, I was there reenacting the whole scene in great detail. I was waving a fist and mumbling "stupid hippie" under my breath when he interrupted me. Now remember, I pretty much won this battle, right? I made this guy and his gal pal leave before he could urinate on my neighbors flowers and I got my parking space back. What more could I possibly want? How could this have turned out any better? Why would I need to replay this scenario? Well, because I am slowly becoming certifiable, that's why. Pete and I have developed in great detail the nutty lady I will someday be. No seriously, I have actually fleshed out my disordered persona. I call her Crazy Clip Lady. I will be homeless, of course, with many black trash bags filled with scraps of paper and other garbage I deem "valuable." Because I am so psycho about my hair now, I imagine it will carry over into my insanity. I will get lots of hair clips and wear all of them at the same time. They will be all different colors, styles, and varieties and will stick out off my naturally dreadlocked hair in the most ridiculous ways. My great love of dogs will carry over too, but since I can't care for myself, a live dog will not be a possibility. Instead I'll get three or four slinky dogs and pull them around behind me. Perhaps I can attach them to my hair somehow. I will also need bright red lipstick which I will smear across my mouth in a most deranged manner. I will update at Diaryland from the public library where all the other loonies hang out during the day. To top it all off, I will live under the Aurora Bridge with only the Fremont Troll for companionship. Now that's the life for me. 2:09 p.m. - 2002-09-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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