Everyone Has A Little OCD

I like to do things in a specific order. I like to do things in a certain way. But does that mean I have OCD?

Maybe. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

I don't think something bad is going to happen to me if I shave before I brush my teeth in the morning. Not consciously anyway. But now that I'm thinking about it, maybe something bad will happen. Maybe I'll be late for work or maybe something will happen to me while I'm shaving because I'm not awake enough to be operating machinery. And if I switch teeth brushing and shaving, will I also shower before my teeth are brushed? What if I get dressed before I shower? That's just a mess waiting to happen! Chaos, I say! Chaos!

So like I was saying: everyone has a LITTLE bit of OCD in them.

I also cannot have a conversation while walking up or down the stairs or while a train is passing because I'm counting the steps or the train cars.

But everyone does that.

Right..?

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Just a Ghost

I was in Niagara Falls the other day wasting time and I made the mistake of driving around Cayuga Island.

I used to have a lot of friends that lived in that part of LaSalle. I spent a big chunk of my youth on that island.

I can't think of the name of it now, but there's a road all the way in the back along the river. There are some beautiful houses back there. There was a girl who lived for a short time in one of those houses.

Of course this is about a girl, Chaz.

I used to go over and help her with her math homework. There was one day I remember so vividly: it was a sunny spring day and she's waiting for me on her porch. It's a big red/rust colored brick house with a big porch with fire wood stacked in one corner and a swing/bench thingie on the other side. And she's sitting on the edge of the porch in her Doc Martens and plaid skirt and black wife-beater tank top. Although we didn't call them "wife-beaters" back then. We went for a drive and cranked the tunes up and went real fast.

She was friends with all my friends.

This little group has always been and always will until the end.

The problem is she was only in town for the school year then she disappeared. She told us she was from Toronto, but that could have just been a story. There are also no pictures of her. I found one I took in the lunchroom or something & she's in the background, but she's totally out of focus and blurry.

And when I was driving down her old street the other day I couldn't find her house. There were houses with big porches, but they weren't brick. And the brick houses didn't have the same kind of porch. Or they were laid out differently. Or they weren't as close to the road as her house was.

Maybe she was just a ghost. Maybe we just imagined her. Maybe she was a figment of my imagination.

But she seemed so real.

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A Question. A Discussion.

Is being predictable a bad thing?

Isn't being predictable better than the opposite?

If you were dating someone or married to someone or best friends with someone, would you like to have a good idea what they were going to do next or be completely in the dark about their next move?

I know being predictable sounds boring and being spontaneous is a more likeable quality, but I am not 100% sure being unpredictable is such a positive thing to look for in a friend or mate. But obviously this is just my opinion. If you'd rather hang out with someone who changes his evening rituals each night, go for it. If you enjoy trying to guess which side of the bed your girl friend is going to sleep on, be my guest. If you like dating a guy who goes from watching figure skating to playing a first person shooter video game to writing poetry to making chicken soup from scratch, more power to you.

But you may want to ask yourself why they are acting so randomly.

Maybe you'd be better off with a friend or significant other who follows the same daily patterns.

Am I wrong?

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Teasing Sun

I feel the need to bust out my shorts from storage. Maybe it's the fact that the sun has been shining all day. Maybe it's the fact that my apartment is so warm today.

I should mention that I haven't looked or gone outside yet today.

Maybe it's the time of year. This time last year I was on the beach in Florida. And the year before that. My body has been rebelling against the cold and snow for months & this tease of sun is just messing with my mind. With my body. With my soul.

If I could have it one temperature all the time, forever, I would make it partly cloudy and seventy seven degrees. And if it could stay around one o'clock in the afternoon, that would be even better. I love having the sun high in the sky. Not too hot & humid, but warm enough to wears shorts & a tshirt.

I wish I could have my bare feet in the warm sand. I wish I could trace my footsteps from one length of the beach to the other. I wish I could feel the sun on my face, my back, my chest. I love smelling the salty water. I love tasting frosty blender beverages. I love hearing the crash of the waves in the Gulf.


I need to end this now before I get too depressed.

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No Luck But Bad Luck

I wish I lived in a city with a better transit system or in a city where I didn't need my car.

Wait, that's the same thing, isn't it?

As I've mentioned before, my car kind of hates me sometimes. I try to treat her well, but she's a moody ol' thing and she needs a lot of attention.

Don't tell her this, but if I could afford to replace her, I would.

I can't win for losing. Just when I think I'm back on top, something happens.
I lose my job.
My car breaks down.
Or any number of other things happen.

I want a do-over. I want things to go my way. I want to stop waiting for the next shoe and the next shoe and the next shoe to drop. But instead I'm sitting in my broken down car waiting on AAA.

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Bad Mood

Let's be honest. Some times you set goals for yourself that you fail miserably at reaching.
At the start of this year I started setting daily goals. Benchmark goals. Today's goal was to not let the things my students or coworkers do or say bother me.

I was doing well until about thirty minutes before my work day ended.

I'm not going to get into the details of who said what or who let this conversation snowball or anything like that, but needless to say my mood went from great to good to PISS POOR right quick.

So what do you do when you're put into a bad mood?

I wanted to go straight to the bar and throw back a couple few cold ones.
I wanted to speed.
I wanted to listen to loud, aggressive music.
I wanted to break things.
I wanted to drive the EXACT speed limit in the left lane and not move for anyone.
I wanted to scream and yell and curse.
I wanted to quit and run away somewhere warm.

But I didn't do any of those things. Well, except for the aggressive music.

The old me would have done all of the above, plus a possible unprofessional outburst or three.

I am still seething a bit inside, but writing & breathing & sitting still is helping.

Venting goes a LONG way.

And taking this tie off will help too.

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Do Titles Matter?

Whenever I write a blog, I think of the title last because to be honest, I don't really know what I'm going to write about until I'm finished.

I don't want to write a title and then be trapped my it.

"Damn, I titled today's blog 'The Visor In My Car Is Too Short.' Now I have to write about THAT for THIS ENTIRE POST."

I realize I could go back and change the title after I write, but I like to fool myself into thinking anything I write is permanent. Like I'm blogging with a chisel.

But do titles make or break if you're going to spend your time reading a blog? Are you judging a blog by its cover? Are you sometimes upset you spent fifteen minutes reading a blog because you thought "The Hub Doesn't Exist" was about airports?

People say DON'T JUDGE A BOOK BY IT'S COVER all the time, but let's be honest: how else are you supposed to judge it? We can't be expected to read every book ever. That's like talking to every ugly person in the world to see if they have a good personality. NO ONE DOES THAT.

When you started reading this blog, did you expect it to be funny? A commentary on life? A rant from a semi-sane thirty-something? None of the above?

Going back a bit: wouldn't it be great if you DID have to blog with a chisel? How many less blogs would you have? Can someone invent a red pen chisel so I can correct grammatical errors set in stone?

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