Me versus My head

I’m trying to shove my head out of the seriousness it nestles in and devote my day to carefree, purely amusing thoughts. Should this be hard? As I write this, I am focusing on relaxing my furrowed brow that suggests I’ve been under intense concentration or am perplexed, but I am not particularly ---- right now. It occurs to me that I have this furrowed brow constantly. In fact, trying to flatten my brow muscles and let my jaw fall slack is requiring more coordination that I thought it would. Vicious cycle. To free myself of an intense expression, I must concentrate intensely…

I turned thirty this year and have realized 30 brings with it the ability to stop excusing yourself for the little ways that make you… you! (When I say ‘you’, I guess I really just mean me, because I don’t know if this is shared sentiment.) Fitting into the world is less important and finding what fits nicely into my own world is my new outlook. Quite refreshing. So, I no longer try to be funny, or get frustrated at my poor… really poor joke telling skills. I no longer feel offended when I meet someone along side my sister and they ask, “What happened to you?” as they take in the obvious difference in height. And I accept that I am serious, in general, remaining somewhat aloof, consumed with the frantic thoughts that are buzzing around my head as I try and navigate my way from one to the other, snatching them down to study, and in the mean time not hearing anything the people around me have just said. A friend I adore said to me once when we were having lunch, “I really love watching you do that, by the way.” When I asked her what she was referring to, she said, “You know, completely zone out. I just watch you go away to wherever it is you go, and then you’ll pop back.” This friend gets me and we feel sure we were friends in another life. This trait of mine is not necessarily a positive one, as it most likely irritates the shit out of my mother and my husband, the ones who have to deal with my chatter and aloofness, and who have the task of trying to understand me as I verbalize all of the whizzing thought flashes.

Perhaps, I reveal too much here. I have no mental disorder; I am just stuck in my head. My diving coach used to tell me the same thing. “Beth, you think too much. Just do it and stop thinking.” I sported the furrowed brow even then.

My sister is not like this. She’s happy-go-lucky most of the time. My parents are not like this. It’s just me. But, that’s okay. I prefer it this way. There is no other way to be for me; it’s my nature.

Luckily, my husband is serious too. Although, he thinks in a completely different pattern than I do. It’s point A to point B. Cut out the fat. Straight and direct. He probably only zones out when I’m analyzing our entire lives. He has this look he gives me when I’m going overboard with loop de loop thoughts. He turns to me really slowly with his mouth slightly open, his eyes slightly crossed, as if his face has lost all control and he has no effort left to process my words. It’s a funny face. Makes me laugh and makes me either sum it up or shut up. I get it done when he gives me this look.

This carefree day is going to be difficult I can tell. I usually sit here and write… about life, death, love, loss, and human nature, that kind of stuff. Or I read about politics and how we “are so dumb, really dumb” as Antoine Dodson would put it. I have fits at all the liars in ties coming across my television. I cry at all the abused animals and children. I have bouts where I feel I need way more education on the ways of the world and interrogate my husband for all he’s worth. Or, I do what I did this morning and exhaust myself running around my home with a broom in the air chasing a wasp. I opened the window, had my glass and piece of paper on stand-by for trap and release purposes, and tried my hardest to direct the (increasingly weak) wasp out the window. I finally gave up when he situated himself in between the molding and blinds that are a good 20 feet in the air. And, yes, I saw myself. I was very aware of how ridiculous I looked. But, these things fret me. I attach feelings to even wasps. Little sucker’s going to die up there if he doesn’t cooperate.

I think the only possible way for me to achieve my goal of laid-back-Beth is to immerse myself in my pups. Selma Lu, for one, is the silliest, quirkiest creature I know and if I follow her lead she’ll take me to the land of carefree. Although, she has the mother-of-all furrowed brows. China is fearless, we all could use a bit of that. I’ll let you know how it goes. That’s assuming anyone even reads this… and they make it through the entire entry… and they care about my head and what’s in it. I have a feeling I’m not going to like this at all, but we’ll see. Open minds are learning minds. And to get out of mine, opening and then, slamming a sound proof door is strategy number one.