One Last One For The Night

I know I've made like 5 of these today, but I had a few closing notes before I went to bed, and I figured, if I committed to writing them all down, I'd have a better shot at sticking to them if I committed them to paper. But I suppose the Internet works too.

Firstly: someone bought Jazz for less than $20K! I'm so jealous. I guess that since they're making a new movie this year, they'll have more cars available for sale soon? I totally want a Transformers: ROTF movie prop for Christmas.

Also, did I mention I signed up for classes today? Well, I didn't. I did it yesterday. But I'm not sure if it'll stick, since they told me I wouldn't be able to until Tuesday. Since I was working Tuesday, I added the classes to like a queue -or something? I dunno?- and was showing my mom how she could sign me up when the time came. Instead, when I clicked the button she was supposed to click, expecting it to tell me "NO", it told me "YES". So I paid and am now enrolled in 4 classes. I may have to drop out of one, though. I managed to not notice that Philosophy 101 was scheduled for MONDAYS as well as Wednesdays at 9AM. I work Mondays at 9AM. So yea, if I can't work something out, I'll probably drop that class.

BUT I TRIED.

I feel weird sometimes... I feel like I should have accomplishments recognized that are merely what is expected of me. Like taking four college classes a semester. No big thing for most people, but I feel like for me it's an achievement. Even if I'm probably going to drop one. Cuz hey, I'm still working nearly 40 hrs a week. Speaking of, the other day, my boss pulled me aside and told me to stop coming in late because I had been, like 10+ minutes (I actually was like TWO HOURS LATE last Tuesday morning, through various faults of my own). So Friday, I made a special effort to show up on time. 3:45. (I have no idea why this was the time, but okay). And when I saw my boss that day, I ALMOST went "Hey, I made it in on time today!" like it was something to be proud of. I thought that conversation through, though, and realized his reaction would have probably been along the lines of "yeah, that's what we PAY you for. And that's what everyone else does. You're not special."

I am special. I know I am. In my own little ways, I'm awesome all over. And I'm really proud that I am who I am. I'm failing at the traditional life story-arc, or whatever, but I'm failing SPECTACULARLY, and I'm having a blast doing it, too. And I'm really glad that I have the support of all my friends and family to do so. But I'm trying. I promise.

When I say "I'm special" (which isn't something I do out loud much, but here it felt appropriate), I'm kinda reminded of the same mantra held by those people who had to ride the short bus to school. Not to knock disabled people, or differently abled, or whatever they would like to be called. They're nice enough in general, and I mean no offense. But that's not what I mean when I say it. Though just saying it DOES remind me of my one weird little paranoia. One I've never told anyone until now. Here goes.

I worry that I'm socially inept or otherwise mentally handicapped in some way that I can't notice, and everyone has been told to ignore it and treat me nice. I'm fairly confident this isn't the case, but every once in a while I'll say something that'll come out garbled, and I KNOW I got tongue tied saying it, and it'll just get ignored or something.

Of course, I don't let it get to me. My other big worry is that my OTHER bizarre paranoia IS getting to me. I'm afraid of being attacked by inanimate objects. It started out as just seeing faces in objects, usually when I was alone in the bathroom, and imagining them with evil intentions, or just suddenly snapping and biting at me. Over time it's gotten worse. Chairs I'd pass would seem ready to run over towards me snarling. Now, it seems like every time I find something lying on the ground in the wrong area at Target, it's got some malicious intentions. I once very carefully did not allow several pieces of wrapping I found on the floor touch each other, fearing that if they did, the spirit within them would be reborn, and its first act would be to bite my hand off.

Again, in my head I know this is all nonsense. I can tell the difference between fantasy and reality. My ultimate goal is to write some form of fiction in which inanimate objects are coming to life for no real reason, and conquer the fear that way. What's truly strange is that I'm not afraid of Transformers. Self-aware, self-motivated cars, trucks, planes and tape-decks don't freak me out. I guess because they're clearly robots. Or, in the case of the Beast Wars/Machines saga, they're animals, and animals are supposed to be self-aware and self-motivated. I've got no explanation for it, really.

Wow, I wrote a lot more than I thought I was gonna. Good night.