It’s important I do not forget myself.

It seems I am an embarrassing person to be around in public places. Recently, I had it explained to me that it is perfectly okay for me to stare at a miniature lava lamp for 45 minutes to an hour in rapt fascination as long as I’m in the privacy of my own home. Apparently though, it is not okay for me to turn an almost empty ketchup bottle on end and stare intently at it until all the ketchup has proven the law of gravity to my satisfaction if at the same time I happen to be dining in public. Actually, I’m not even sure if this was deemed acceptable behavior in any situation. That was never really clarified.

My apologies to all who witnessed my mistake, and an even bigger apology to those who were embarrassed on my behalf. Next time, I’ll just make french fry sculptures.

I’ve never really considered myself an emotional person. Even as a teenager I never came home and cried for no good reason … like it was Tuesday or that the sun was shining. About once a year I would become particularly angry, sad, or just generally distraught. When that happened I would always end up in my closet cleaning and working whatever it was out in the confines of my own room and head. By the end of it all, I would feel a lot better and my closet would be sparkling with all the clothes, shoes and other stuff that I no longer wanted piled in the middle of my floor waiting to be shipped off to the benevolence center.

It’s amazing the way a person can change over time. And I’m not just talking about physical appearance. I find myself moved to tears and laughter by things my younger self would be horrified by. Books are terribly involving to me now, which is fine because I’ve always enjoyed reading and it’s never been much of a stretch for me to relate to a written character or scenario. I’m prone to cry during movies now, with the swelling music and cheesy overwritten-but-remarkably-cliché scripts. I know it’s just a ploy and I’m falling victim to the manipulations of Hollywood drama and silver screen sappiness.

Distressingly though, I’ve found myself drawn down into similar moods while watching simple television programs. You know there must be something different in your life when a program on the sci-fi channel hits some deep inner chord in your soul. The day a commercial effects me in the same way, is the day that I will forever retreat into hiding and never be seen by mortal eyes again. Children will rush by my house at Halloween and dare one another to knock on my door or peer into my windows for just a glimpse of the strange shut-in within.

And the funny thing is that I’ve never liked things sugar coated. I hated grade school history lessons because of the drivel that was spoon-fed to me constantly, until I had a teacher who’s every lesson was full of biting sarcasm. He was a true inspiration to me. I still don’t like things candy coated. I prefer the dark endings and the things that make me think deeper than what is presented on the surface. I’m nt referring to the stuff that so many art and literature instructors try to pass off as soul-rending symbolism. The people who know me well, know all this about me. It’s why my brother buys me weird movies and why my other brother and I get along so well.

Things change though, and as I said, people change too. I can honestly say that I’m deeply in love. Love has made me a better person. It has made me more vulnerable and exposed, but I think it’s worth the risk. Maybe because of that, I actually secretly look forward to the day that a mere television commercial will make my heart fall onto the floor and shatter.

Last night we had dinner at Steak and Ale. A rare privilege since several years ago the one in Lubbock that my family would occasionally go to was closed forever. (It was at Steak and Ale I discovered flounder is a fish that should never be eaten.) However, last night was a first. It is quite possible that my food was laced with some sort of drug. I say this because after I went to sleep I had the weirdest dreams. Most of them are fuzzy now that it’s the middle of the afternoon but there is one that I can still remember clearly. It involved me lost in a forest, and my solution to finding a way out was to smear egg whites over any and all portions of exposed skin. This made absolutely perfect sense in my dream because apparently when egg whites are applied to skin and then given the chance to dry they cause a luminescent glow bright enough to navigate through an unfamiliar forest. Now that I’m awake, I’m a bit fascinated with the idea and I would really like my subconscious to offer me an explanation of where I managed to find eggs. It also brings to question, wouldn’t anyone who chanced a glimpse of my figure emanating a strange ethereal glow mistake me for a ghost?

I was going to share something profound with you, but that particular train of thought derailed.