First, a recap of the last poll:
Which closest matches your theory as to why I had disappeared?
You're a jerk who doesn't return e-mail. 0%
You were dead and nobody sent me funeral arrangement info. 0%
You were gone? Oh. Welcome back, I guess. 0%
You were attacked by bears or aliens or clarinets or something. 33%
You were busy getting ready for school and finishing that Pre-Algebra curriculum. 66% (Although it should read 67%... who does the math for these things? My students?)
Okay, now let's get back to topic:
Am I insane?
I'm not one of those folks that buys into the whole, "Insane people don't think they're insane" thing. I think there are plenty of insane people who know they're insane.
And I'm not poking fun at the insane here. I'm really starting to wonder.
I mean, here's something I don't bring up to people, but am willing to share online with the world: I've been seeing things out of the corner of my eye. Or the corners of my eyes... I don't think these "things" favor one eye over the other.
Nothing specific, mind you. Well, nothing more specific than the message light on the phone at school, which was the first false thing I realized I was seeing out of the corner of my eye. I sometimes see the message light flashing out of the corner of my eye, but then I stare at it, and it doesn't flash at all (I have to stare, because there were times that it WAS flashing and I'd glance, look away, see the flash again... rinse, repeat).
Then, there was this whole crazy thing with the Encyclopedia "Yearbooks" at the first of the year. Although there ended up being a rational explanation as to why I'd look at a book and it would say 1985 as clear as day, then several minutes later it said 1986 or 1984, the feeling of "Oh man, I'm going insane" was not unfamiliar to me at that time.
I keep seeing movement out of the corner of my eye when nothing is moving. When I'm home alone, it's very disturbing. Especially when it's accompanied by a voice.
I kid. No voice.
Well, I mean, barring the ongoing dialogue between the different parts of my brain, which sometimes seeps out into the real world in the form of conversations with myself, which is a whole other insane thing.
Also, let's reflect on how I have the financial planning skills of a milk truck. I mean, isn't the definition of insanity (or the popular t-shirt version) doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?
Oh, and if you knew the story behind the potato-chip picture over on STILL: Life, you'd be voting "he's TRULY insane" on that poll over there.
Or, maybe I'm just bored. I have all the free time on my hands, so I can see how I'd get bored.
Okay, I'm done worrying about it. You people vote on it (hopefully more than three of you this time) and I'm going to type some more, updating folks on my life.
I don't deliver pizza any more. There's a great story about it, and I'll post that some day before I die, if I'm lucky... or if you're lucky... or if someone has some sort of luck. Whichever applies.
I'm the interim choir director at the church right now. It's an odd feeling, directing a choir. I mean for me. I doubt your average Joe Choirdirector has the same feeling. For me, it's a mix between the "People are looking at me" I felt back when I would pitch on our Khoury League team, and the "People are looking at me" I feel onstage. That is to say, it's a mixed bag, based on my feelings of inadequacy. But I'm enjoying it. It's just an odd feeling.
I'm going to Denver this weekend to sing. Also, I get to visit my college chum Sarah, and meet her family. I haven't seen her in a coon's age... almost literally, there. Come to think of it, I don't know if I've seen her in even more than 16 years.
However, I'm driving to Denver, and that gives me odd feelings of dread. I don't know why. The car is practically new. But, if this is some psychic thing, let me take this chance to say I love you all dearly, and my will is under my mattress.
Okay, I'm tired. I'm driving ten hours tomorrow. My laundry is about done. I'm gonna add a link over on my other blog, then hit the hay.