While sitting in my head today, I had, shall we say, an epiphany; here’s why some things concerning me are the way they are. Bear with me for a moment.
I had to tell a cousin I have known less than a year that I could not let someone as close to my feet as she currently was to my Ma’s. She was in the midst of giving Ma a pedicure, and I told my brother, “Now, she’ll want one every week!”
After nodding her agreement, Tom, my older brother, started avidly shaking his head while laughing, telling her “Absolutely not!”
I stated, quite liberally, that I do not let anyone that close to my feet. My cousin looked absolutely beside herself, and blurted out, “Why?”
I then began regaling her with my long standing aversion to people who would forcibly hold me down- sometimes more than two others, usually related (hinting towards Tom)- and being Mercilessly tickled. I emphasized this by stressing “mercilessly” .
She tried, of course, to change my mind, as did Ma. I hold fast to not letting others (anybody, again stress) that close to my feet.
I think everyone has this kind of situation. Something they believe vehemently. No one can change their mind, because it is just the way it is.
I, personally, have many such. I shan’t bore anyone with all the details.
Speaking of that, there’s another : I choose… yes, choose to not delve too deeply into anything involving me. I choose not to let any one individual know me that well.
Where does this come from? One may ask, for I shan’t reveal to hardly anyone that I don’t want to be that close.
“But then, why tell people so much about yourself so soon after meeting them?”
I would say to that, “But I don’t reveal anything that reveals too much.”
In that, lies even more.
{At times, like the ramblings herein, it seems I keep subconsciously trying to find someone with whom I would want to make myself known, there is an undesirable need to do just that.}
That is only one of the reasons I only reveal so much, and at times say too much or in the wrong “voice”.
I will just admit: “I do not trust most, and frequently misjudge and be too open to the wrong people.”
{Let’s see now, do I keep on the one track or the other. Or a different tack entirely. Just so many directions a discussion (admission?) like this could go.}
That is, a lot of the time, how the committee in my head converses. I literally hear the words being spoken, and have every intention of verbalizing my thoughts. I most always look around to see if anyone witnessed me almost speaking to myself. That would make me look suspicious.
(I try to be always looking for ways people look suspicious, to various definitions of the word.)
Point kind of made. I think, or hear or see, things being done. I mentally observe, and have seemed to be able to know, or deduce, or reason out, just why some people do some of the things that they do based solely on reasons I do certain things.
Most people are able to plain ignore some of the reasons they act in certain ways. Some, maybe, but most of the time they are just going through the motions of things that had succeeded in situations similar to the one they find themselves in at any given time. Habit, one may say.
This would usually be an action that had been performed since early in their childhood.
A lot of people could not, or at least will not, ever admit, to themselves or anyone, that. One could make such a connection, but if enough investigation be put to it, I can practically guarantee that it would be concerning something one experienced as a child.
{And so, is how one could faze into another subject. How I could, anyway. How I did…}
“Where do these thoughts come from?”
That’s what I’m saying: it is like an, almost, constant conversation going on in my head. Whichever member of my committee I find interesting, I follow that thought pattern.
I hear some of the others up there calling out from the strand I had abandoned that I could still choose a certain other way and still follow that to the inevitable outcome, which could be “blah, blah, blah.”
It almost scares me how close I had thought, if I did happen to think about doing the said subconscious investigation, results of some of my actions could be deciphered.
I would say that I seem to be really… proficient… at having such discussions within my cranium. Quite frequently, in fact. And I try to keep it between my ears.
There are times that I accidentally, verbally let out an opinion. Something that just pops out of the darkness or, as they say, “out of the blue”. I sometimes get lucky and the utterance matches the discussion going on around me.
Occasionally, the topic is only barely linkable to the other’s. As frequently, not even close to said topic. It is just a committee suggestion taken overboard and voiced.
At that point, I feel that others begin looking around for an easy distraction, and sure enough, they drift away from me, physically, but yet also mentally. I become, I feel, bearable. Barely, even. I see others begin looking around to find somewhere else they can be. As long as I stay put. Which I am only too willing to do. I hate feeling like I am forcing myself onto others.
On this topic, I could drift off on a tangent to describe things that have happened before, and were sure to happen again, in a certain fashion as a result to a particular action. Or decision, or even thought.
Now, one may be thinking, “These thoughts are sure hard to follow!” Consider how I feel; they are ever present in my head, one after the other, in near constant flux. And it is my responsibility to attempt to keep them in check. I don’t always succeed.
A lot of folks would question my sanity upon discovering that I hear voices in my head, and then entertain the discussions therein. I will not try to sway their opinions; I have long since admitted that I am crazy. I’m alright with it, whether they are or not. But insane? Who could say for sure?
At this point, allow me to remind you that I am a writer, and writing, as they say, is a form of art. Many artists in the past have been declared, in public opinion, insane in one form or another. Actors, writers, sculptors, painters. Such is why so many have committed suicide. I believe that we all (artist or not) have committee meetings going on mentally, and the ones who can put “voice” to some of the suggestions and be widely admired for it become famous. Some of these artists eventually take the wrong committee suggestion to heart, and do something fatally stupid.
I know I do stupid things, and some of those actions could, in the long run, be fatal. At this point in time, however, I can differentiate between the good and bad decisions, or at least the less fatal ones.
Well, I began these ramblings to be a future blog post. I’m sure it could be considered a bit long for that, but will go ahead and post it, on the off chance that someone will find it worthy of suffering through to see a bit of how my mind works.
I shall leave you with one more thought to consider : All of the stories I have written began as nothing more than a “committee suggestion”, but one which rang out above the others, and reverberated to the point where I had to pen it to make it go away. Then, that member took control, and allowed the story to unfold.
Am I weird? Yes, I believe so…
