Deep inside my head must look like one of those synapses images of the neurotransmitters. You know the ones. With the pale outline of the head on a black background with exploding white and blue lights all over where the brain is located. At least in my mind, it looks like that. (Probably a single flash cube on a Kodak Instamatic camera going off in 1973 is more accurate an image. I digress.)
I think that my husband thinks that I am crazy. Perhaps he is right. We had so many arguments in the first few years of our marriage. He would ask me a question and I’d answer it, but not before going around in a circle. He would lose his cool and be shouting at me, “But what does any of that have to do with my question?! I ask you for the time and you give me directions on how to build a clock!!” Well, not true. If he’d have waited and heard the last sentence, instead of interrupting me with that clock crap, he would have understood my Grasshopper wisdom and seen how amazingly bright I am. But this kind of thing continued to happen until he finally got too old to argue and then listened one day. Granted, we’d already been together 15 years by then. But you know. Welcome to the party. Your wife’s a fucking genius. She just talks circularly.
So, what kind of wisdom is going on in this big, honking brain of mine? Not much. It’s mostly filled with questions. Occasionally, I discover answers and then file them away in my brain rolodex to be called upon when I need them for important events, such as, proving one of my teenagers is wrong or during a hot game of Trivial Pursuit. But mostly, it’s just questions. Here are some examples:
- Am I ever going to finish this freaking novel that I started writing in 2010?
- Is Rhythm really a dancer?
- What am I going to make for dinner tonight?
- Did I remember to hide my personal calendar on my phone before letting Randa play on it? Oh shit! I didn’t. Too late. She deleted all her doctors and dentist appointments. Crap.
- Does Adam Levine REALLY have the moves like Jagger?
- Will anyone notice that dust buffalo rolling under the rocking chair if I keep directing their attention to the new curtains?
- No, really. Will I get this novel published before I turn 60?
- Why do I have so few followers on my blog? I’m friggin’ hilarious. Why don’t they like me?
- I wonder if Ozzy really thought that Sharon was just going to keep taking his crap after all he’s done over the years. Huh. I guess she is…they’ve renewed their vows.
I don’t know that I will ever know the answers to these questions. But I do know that all 9 of those questions popped in and out of my head within a 4 second time period. That’s not over the course of a whole week. And I did manage to answer question 3. I’m making chili because it’s flipping cold outside and I have most of the ingredients on hand.
I know that I will publish this novel one day. I know that whether or not people comment on my blog posts or “like” them that they like them. I like to think that Rhythm IS a dancer and that Adam Levine does have the moves like Jagger and that if I talk fast enough and keep everyone with access to the amazing food that I make and serve them, that no one will notice that dust buffalo under my rocking chair and they will ooh and aah over my new curtains. I keep a list of Randa’s appointments in the roll top desk so I can always add them back into my calendar and hide it from the phone calendar. And I give Sharon loyalty points for trying to stick with her marriage, even if Ozzy is, though musically brilliant, a giant dumb ass for not kissing her feet every day that she has tolerated his bullshit.
I told you I think circularly.