Could this be true? Did someone else finally recognize that I am the sane one!?!? I spent so many years thinking the world was out to get me, but maybe I was wrong after all.
***In honor of this post on crazy, I've posted some old pictures of people (myself included) looking completely nuts.***
It all started as far back as Kindergarten, because Kindergarteners can be so cruel. After lunch, when we had play-time, I would sometimes dabble in the game of "house". You know it, I'm sure: children act like grownups, mimicking their parents, and everything they see them do in a day: taking care of the baby, grocery shopping, kissing boo-boos, drinking too much.
Seemed perfectly normal to me. Don't we all live in houses? Won't we all, eventually, become the figures we are mimicking? Might as well get in some practice while we're young...RIGHT?
Unfortunately, NO. According to kindergarten, only girls can play house. And boys who play house, well there's a word for them. I can't say it here, but it's REALLY ironic.
On Valentine's Day, my class played a game called Special Delivery! One person sat in the center of the circle blindfolded. Someone delivered to them a valentine (like a mailman!). The blindfold is removed. And the recipient has to guess who sent it to them. Simple.
When it was my turn to deliver (and trust me I did!), the spotlight-hungry child-actor came rushing out of me, and I marched up to the kid in the chair (Nikhil Vais), knocked on the back of it, put on a funny voice to mask my own, and said "Special Delivery" out loud. Wasn't I adorable?
Well Nikhil IMMEDIATELY removed his blindfold and just stared at me. The rest of the class glared, like I had RUINED the game for EVERYONE! My teacher just shook her head. Apparently by spicing things up, I had broken the rules. Shame on me. I'd show them...just how spicy I could be.
The years went by. In 3rd grade we had to write an essay about what career we saw ourselves in. I couldn't pick a career, so I spent the bulk of the essay explaining why I did NOT want to be a garbage man. I did not get a good grade on that assignment.
In 4th grade, the height of my note-passing years, Chelsea Barker and I got into a heated note discussion one afternoon about whose house we would play at after school, and if she could invite Marybeth. I didn't want Marybeth there, and as I explained in my note, I thought Marybeth was "a bitch".
I knew it was a bad word. But I also knew I meant it. Cursing was cool! What I DIDN'T know was that Chelsea did not approve of cursing, and she promptly showed my note to Mrs. Nicolato. WHAT?? She was supposed to be my friend! We were having a private discussion! Why would she stab me in the back like that?? If I didn't know the true meaning of the B word yet, I certainly did now.
Middle School, in its entirety, was one giant prank on me, I'm convinced. It's not even worth going into.
In more recent years, however, I've caught on to the fact that I actually might not be the crazy one. People all around me are just becoming more and more insane, but I still need reassurance occasionally.
Last week, my dad and I stopped into this cafe for lunch. It's called All-Mixed-Up, and you check off what you want on a little paper menu, write your name on top, hand it to someone behind a counter and VOI-LA: Lunch!
The waitress brought our paninis over a few minutes later, handing us a hot little chicken/portabello/balsamic number for me, and a ham and cheese for Marty, which seemed odd. He doesn't eat ham.
"I didn't order this."
"Oh...I'm sorry.... maybe there was a mistake. Let me check your ticket."
A minute later, the waitress came back with his ticket. She hesitated, and handed it to him. "Marty: Number 4. Ham and Cheese."
"I SWEAR I didn't write that. I wanted the same one you got!"
"Then why didn't you CIRCLE number 1?" This was not a Florida election ballot. This was a sandwich menu.
"I don't know... I must have gotten All Mixed Up"
So maybe my horoscope is right. Maybe it IS just me, and everyone else is playing on a completely different level. From the looks of it, it's been this way for many years, and shows no signs of stopping.
I've always seen this blog as a place where we could all get away from the psychoses of everyone else, and just stand back, point, and laugh at them. Some people think that's cheesy. But I like it. I guess the cheese really does stand alone.
At least the cheese isn't insane.
Good luck everyone.
Evan
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