They Don't Understand

I have come to the conclusion that the majority of people in the world have no idea what to think of me.

The Invisible Friends are wholeheartedly agreeing, saying, "We don't understand what she's talking about half the time anyway!"

Between people looking at me like an idiot when I talk about the plans I have going on at work, I'm truly starting to believe most people are fascinated by me. It's like adults who have no business being around small children who get stuck babysitting for a night. They want to put the toddler on a couch and have it watch movies, and are baffled when it tries to make a fort out of their plastic champagne glasses.

Ever since I began writing more, I've become a lot more creative. I've also become a lot more expressive with the stream of random thoughts that goes through my head.

For example, John and Kurt, friends from college, invaded this weekend for the Weekend of the Boys. I couldn't have been more delighted for my husband. However, I quickly realized they had no idea what to do with me from conversations such as these:

"Kurt, why do you hate me?"

He looked startled. "I don't hate you."

"Kurt, you know I brighten up your life."

"See, look Kurt! You're smiling! You can't help it! HOORAY!"



In my bubble, I tend to see things in different ways. For instance, I interpret animal's actions differently, as you've obviously seen in previous posts. Traffic and crowds gives me hives and fills me with an intensely irrational anger, particularly when dealing with malls. Even more annoying for most, I walk around in a perpetually happy perky state. People can't help but call me cute, but I wonder if they really think I'll just grow out of it. I don't think I will. It's rather like being caught up in a dance where I'm constantly spinning. Everytime a new song comes on, I can't help but keep moving.

And I like it.