BOOM BOOM Ain’t It Great To Be Crazy?
I don’t know if it’s because I was an only child or because I’m a kind of crazy that has, thus far, gone undetected by people with enough power to put me away for it, but I have a pretty vivid imagination.
When you’re an only child, a vivid imagination is great…if somewhat disconcerting to your parents when combined with a deep love of learning.
Me as a small child: *crying* MOMMY, MOMMY! I CAN’T GET MY BARBIE’S HEAD TO GO BACK ON!
Mum: * hugs me and takes the decapitated doll* What happened?
Me as a small child: *sniffles* I was playing French Revolution and *hiccoughs* she was Marie Antoinette, because she’s my favourite, *sob* but after she got her head chopped off, I couldn’t get it to go back on!
Well, at least no one could say my recreation lacked verisimilitude.
Fun Fact: My Mum, being the industrious lady she is, hot glued my Barbie’s head to her neck to fix her. She was slightly shorter than before and couldn’t turn her head anymore, but I still loved her best. I just pretended she had been in a car accident and they’d had to put steel rods in her neck and that was why she couldn’t turn it.
I was a normal child.
My point is, I had a pretty good grasp on non-reality. (Still do!)
My imagination got me through a lot of boring times as the only kid on acres of nothing but farmland and it got me through some rough patches during the years where I didn’t feel like I had any real friends. Of course, imagination is a double edged sword. It also made the rough patches rougher than they had to be sometimes. You don’t get dreams without nightmares being a possibility.
Recently, a friend of mine complimented me by telling me I was really witty. I was super flattered, but it also got me thinking about why I’m always thinking of some funny spin to put on things. I think what it comes down to is a weird mixture of things but the biggest motivator is a love.
In my family, we show each other we love one another by being utterly ridiculous. Fun is our love language…which now that I think of it might explain why I have an insanely hard time dating because if you can’t make me laugh, it’s practically impossible for me to remain interested. Especially now that I have Netflix.
But back to my point, being imaginative and crazy is how we tell one another we appreciate each other and because of that, I tend to just automatically try to connect with people that way. For example, here is an example of a recent conversation with my Mum:
Mum: Well, I’m going to let you go, I’ve run out of things to say.
Me: Oh, I see how it is. Keep me on the phone until YOU run out of things. Doesn’t matter what IIIIIIIIII have going on. SELFISH!
Mum: *laughs* I thought you said everything you had to say!
Me: I DID, but I’m not done talking to you yet.
Mum: But I have to go, I’m tired!
Me: I don’t care, I’m not done yet!
Mum: Well, do you have anything else to say?
Mum: *amused yet exasperated sigh* Well then I’m going to go, I’m tired!
Me: Fiiiiiiiiiiiiine. I see how it is. Bye, Mum. Love you.
Mum: Love you, too. Bye.
Me: Goodbye forever!
Mum: WHAT?! *surprised laugh*
Me: Just in case. Just in case!
Mum: *makes a fond, yet disgruntled noise and hangs up*
Sometimes Mommy chants the words “I love my family, I love my family.” That’s how you know she really means it.
The above conversation is utterly ridiculous and full of nonsense, but that’s how my folks and I talk to each other. We tease, we mock insult, we say things like: “If you do that, Mum’s going to kill you and hire Michael Flatly to Riverdance on your grave and I will join in, not because I don’t love you, but because that music is like an infectious disease, but for dancing.”
Anyway, after having that conversation with my Mum the other night, I started to think back on the compliment my friend had given me and about where it came from. Then, this evening, while I was doing laundry and pretending to be a spy, I started thinking about imagination. More on the imagination thing in a bit, but first, let me explain the laundry thing:
Ever since I moved into my new apartment, I have to go next door and down into the basement to do laundry (it’s fine, I have a key, it’s what I’m supposed to do) but the only working key I have is for the front door of the building. This means, when I do laundry, I have to go up a flight of stairs, go down a hallway, go down three flights of stairs, around a corner, and do my laundry. Now, I hate laundry, I find it super boring, but the first time I made this laundry trip, it was also super creepy. I have a vivid imagination and going down into a dark corner of a basement of a building I’m not familiar with brings out every horror movie memory I have. So to make the job more entertaining and less frightening, I’ve started playing a game where I pretend to be a spy and try to get in and out of the building as quietly as I can and try to avoid being seen by anyone. Sometimes, I even hum my own theme tune.
I’m a totally normal adult.
So, this evening, as I was thinking about what my friend had said and the way my folks and I talk to one another, and the weird things I do to entertain myself, I started wondering…do other people do this? Because, frankly, if they don’t….I’m not sure how they live their lives.
What’s the point of living if it isn’t fun? I mean, there’s always going to be situations and times where you can’t make things fun, but if you work at enjoying yourself and let that imaginative (admittedly, slightly morbid) little kid out every once and awhile, even the stupidest things can become enjoyable and entertaining.
Not only did I do my laundry this evening, I saved the world from imaginary neo-Natzis.
What did YOU do today?
Posted on May 1, 2015, in Random Life Stuff and tagged appreciate what you have, crazy, creative, creativity, imagination, love, Love Language, make your own fun, rapport, silly. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.