No mas, neuros-ass

I'm done being neurotic.

Who said "Ha?!" Was that you, Miller?

Listen. I'm serious. This neurotic thing? Not charming anymore. Not even a little bit cute.

"Charming might be the wrong choice of words," Vics said when I told her. Friggin-fraggin wordsmiths. Semantic. I say Charming, you say...who gives a shit what you say. This is my world.

It's hard, though, ya know? Being neurotic, it's addictive. It's like the frozen snickers bar of cigarettes. It's yum yum. It's like extending childhood into Woody-Allenhood, which, in the case of nup-tualiing his daughter, is like extending childhood.

When did people stop liking Woody Allen? When he married his daughter? Or before that? And who cares? Did we really learn anything different about him? This is his world. He make-ith the rules.

Tell me. If I was in New York, would people think I was neurotic? Or would they think I was laid back? Is it solely in the midwest that I am neurotic? What about if I lived in Iceland? Or California? Where would I be not who I am now, here?

Huh?

Listen. No seriously, seal the pie hole and take a sip of joe and LISTEN.

This is my world. Sometimes I forget that. Sometimes someone else comes in and their rules are so much louder and bigger, I take down all the signs and rewrite all the laws I've put in place and morph my world into their world. Like, for example-to me, life isn't a beauty contest. To a lot of people it is. To some people, life is a money contest. Not me.

But sometimes, those people, in those other contests, cross my borders and I haven't got a helicopter or a flash light in sight to stop them. Like last night my electricity went off. I didn't see it coming. I mean, how was I going to see it coming? My umbilical cord isn't plugged in to ComEd. I didn't feel nothing and it happened anyway.

There's folks who are always competing with me. Their world is 'The most most most wins.' I don't start on the racing block, but when I see someone get on it, I'm there in a jiffy. I don't pick my competitors, they pick me. That's what I'm talking about. They, not me, make the world. My world shoves over, makes room. Pussy.

I'm done being neurotic. It might take some practice, but I'm open to the possibility of not freaking out everytime I'm not the star, or the winner, or the most most. I'm tired, it's exhausting. Maybe that's what happened with Woody. He thought "I'm tired. Maybe I'll marry my daughter. She can carry the groceries up the four story walk up. Her knees are younger."

Comments

[Cat]

there's a typo in my previous post. that makes me neurotic.

[Cat]

Amy, you're so smart you freak me out sometimes, you know? In a good way. In he best possible way. As in, GBAD. XO Cat