Slightly disturbing realization

It almost disturbed me the other day to realize that I am Harold Crick in real life. Perhaps you remember the character, from the movie Stranger Than Fiction? He saw things in the world arranged by time, percentage, number, instead of just experiencing life, and didn't even try at it; he just noticed those sorts of things.

I've noticed before that I unconsciously keep track of the count and placement of random things, but it was yesterday that what that meant hit me, as I realized that I knew exactly when to pull the cord on the bus so that I would be able to walk up to the door right as the bus slowed and stopped. That realization came simultaneously with the one that I also knew how many ads were being displayed above my head, whether there were more people on the right or left side of the bus, how many route maps were in the little drawer (and how apparently more people needed the 150 route than the 154), and how much time was left on the song on my iPod.

This strange acknowledgment of a strange neuroses followed me as I went to work, where I realized that I was always keeping track of exactly how many boxes of books were waiting at my station, the approximate amount of books in each one, how long that would take me to process, and therefore when I would need to get more (taking breaks into account). And this while listening to an audiobook, where I mentally calculate with the start of each track when I should probably stop the book to finish up the workday at the end of a track. When I open a bag of fruit snacks, the first thing I do is mentally if not physically sort them by color, and then eat the right ones so that each color has the same number, and then I eat them in order after that. I don't even think about this, not consciously. It just happens. And this doesn't even go into the way that I know every inch of space, wherever I'm at, and exactly how I need everything arranged at any given moment to take the most advantage of it—even if that means adjusting things in half-inches.

It's a really, really good thing, I realize now, that God gave me an easy-going temperament along with these neuroses. Through no real effort of my own, I'm able to brush off most irritations in life, partly because they're rarely strong to begin with. I like and love things far more often than I am annoyed, and thinking of something enjoyable will easily wipe away the memory of an annoyance. Which is good for my sanity, and for the sanity of others, when those little irritations can be as simple as noticing that the soap dispensers in the public restroom aren't equally full...

I am Harold Crick.

What poetry form am I?

I'm terza rima, and I talk and smile. Where others lock their rhymes and thoughts away I let mine out, and chatter all the while. I'm rarely on my own - a wasted day Is any day that's spent without a friend, With nothing much to do or hear or say. I like to be with people, and depend On company for being entertained; Which seems a good solution, in the end. What Poetry Form Are You?

"We are all Socialists now"

In case it wasn't clear enough for you...Newsweek had this on the cover of their magazine this week. They aren't hiding it, they aren't ashamed, they just boldly proclaim it from the hilltops. And the American public smiles and cheers as we enter this age of hope. It makes me weep.

Spring is coming!

Spring used to be my second-favorite season, after autumn because I loved the crispness and lingering warmth that mingled in the air, and the unique smell of dry leaves. But in the past couple years, I've found myself more and more affected by SAD (seasonal affective disorder), and this year has been the worst.

I have an early schedule pretty much all year round, and by the time November swung around it was dark in the morning, and it only got worse. I hate the dark. I hate the clouds. I hate the rain, and the drizzle, and the snow worst of all. I hate the cold. Winter makes me want to curl up in my bed, turn the heater up high, and write like there's nothing else to do in the world. I'm not a people person even in the warm season, but winter makes me about twice as uncomfortable around others.

I was almost getting used to this feeling of disinterest and detachment from the world, when two days ago as I waited for the bus to arrive...sun! Real sun, warm sun, gloriously golden sun. I closed my eyes and sat in its glow for about ten minutes until the bus pulled up. And suddenly, where my spirits had been about a 5 on a ten point scale, they were now easily an 8.

Life's not so bad. Spring is coming.