I
had a paranoid thought regarding a friend. It’s easy when you feel isolated
from people, whether the isolation is caused by physical or emotional
distance, to replay small things they said casually in conversations,
take them out of context, and dissect them. This cannot be healthy, though it does appear to be a common condition I find myself in.
Before I explain about the conversation with B, I should explain as to why I have a hard time remembering conversations verbatim, settling mostly for the gist of what went down. The thing is, I constantly have a few conversations going on in an ever-going
internal dialogue on top of whatever it is I’m talking about with those around
me. One conversation processes everything I’m seeing. But then, I ask
myself questions like, “Do I like the green hat because it brings out
the butterscotch highlights in that girl’s hair or is this a color that
is on the rise in popularity that I should probably incorporate into a
top or some sort of accent, like binding?”
While I’m studying the girl in the green hat, I’ll simultaneously be writing. I have had a list of characters filed
away in my head to reference when I get to actually writing. Nevermind that I
haven’t “actually written” anything in years. The list remains and
continues to grow. At that moment, I was adding a character with chronic
Asian hair envy to the list. This girl would notice something beautiful
about asian girls everywhere she went; inspired by an earlier thought
that only asian girls can bleach their hair and have butterscotch
highlights and not have hair accents the color and texture of hay. Mediterranean gene FAIL.Although, that would be a challenge to translate into sci-fi.
While all that
is going on, I’m also maneuvering how I can turn a conversation a
certain way so I can casually bring up something I’m absolutely dying to
talk about. It’s important to me to hear all about other people first before I dive into what feels like my MEmeMEme spiel. I don’t like to lose what’s important in life in the mix. There should be balance.
Oh,
and on top of all that, I can sit on a bench with B, enjoying a
hot, fruity tea beverage in the middle of a bustling Queens
neighborhood, talking about politics. I do not think I can be the only
person on Earth who consistently has multiple conversations articulating
in my head. Also, those are not the subjects my mind is limited to
while conversing; there are many, many issues on my mind at any given
time. There is no back burner. There’s a massive garden and every
person, place, or issue, big or seemingly small, has a flower pot
containing it and that my brain feels compelled to feed. Nothing ever
dies in my brain garden. As cluttered as that may seem, I’ve always
preferred a baroque-esque garden with layers upon overgrown layers.
However,
those were just merely a few issues on my mind, the eternal coffeehouse
in my head, me chattering away with myself and other versions of me,
and sometimes actual physical people in the real world, like B when
she called me a Republican even though I voted for Obama.
Why
would I dissect that? I’ve admitted to being Republican in the past.
Just lately, it feels like an insult; it no longer feels like part of
me, or even relative. It’s another version of me, tucked away in the
garden behind the thorny raspberry bush called Ex-Boyfriends. I forget
about those plants sometimes. Why should it bother me if others don’t?
Why is this bothering me four months later?
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