Thursday, February 02, 2006

But we're never gonna survive.....unless, we get a little....

Last night, over dinner with Brett, we were talking about how we both, in our own way are crazy. Hello, my name is Katherine and I am crazy because I am overly sensitive, often incorrectly assume latent meanings of the most benign sentences, and operate on precisely two speeds: lethargic and panic attack.

people have interesting habits for holding it together, mostly by weird control mechanisms. It recently dawned on me, after A.) reading The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime and B.) watching Mtv's True Life: I have OCD that rituals matter in daily life. Ever since I was a KID, rituals have mattered, though I don't feel crippled by them by any sense of the word. Or maybe it's just the Taurus in me, being bullish about habit.

As a kid, after I brushed my teeth (which takes as long as singing "happy birthday" to yourself, as Oprah once told my mother, and anything Oprah says my mother holds as law) I would take a little paper dixie cup, swish with water and then spin around quickly and toss it into our family's miniscule bathroom trashcan. If the cup went in immediately, I was going to have a good day. If the cup bounced off the rim or didn't go in, bad times. Then I would scoop up the cup and keep trying until it made it in. As you can see, as a kid I was already in charge of my own destiny.

Now, as a (oh hee hee this is hilarious) "grown up" they haven't left me. On 18th street, right at about California street, someone else with my initials (KAS) and some balls had etched them in the freshly laid cement on the sidewalk. Without altering my pace, if my right foot lands on it, good day for me! If my left foot does, bad times, and if I miss it altogether? Then I'm blogging on my "lunch break" because I AM BORED.

It makes me want to make a face to think about showering in a different order than I have now. It's been the same since I was allowed to shave the legs in 6th grade (a more worldly friend had to kindly be like "um, I know that you just came from catholic school, but I think Jesus, Mary AND JOSEPH would appreciate less fuzz".)

I firmly believe that the number of dogs I see in the morning leads to good fortune. Case in point, one day the daveklein had an interview for a job he was super interested in and I saw not one, not two-- but THREE BASSETT HOUNDS that morning. I thought to myself "on this most fortuitous of days, something will happen for the DK" and it did. He got that job. CUZ I WILLED IT. WITH BASSETT HOUNDS.

Everyone has their things. Rituals can be small-scale. Some people put mugs fresh from the dishwasher upside down, some have to have them right-side up. Some people alphabetize their CD's and color code their closets and have colored folders for different types of bills. People are staunchly "TP hangs OVER" or "TP hangs UNDER". Human beings are creatures of habit, no matter how fabulously you think you roll. I think everything in me depended on how fabulously my mom rolls.

It's like we hold onto these ridiculous little rituals as crazy people, because being in control of these small things is our personal gravity-- my color coordinated closet is what keeps me from being pulled off the ground into my "ooooh-shiny-things" outer mental sphere. I may suck a little at life-- I might not have total control of my situation all the time-- but damnit, my closet is left to right, black to white, and sometimes I feel better for it. And perhaps not having total control is what's freeing to be able to color code your bills and be able to speak about the joy it might give you.

but god forbid I ever wash my face before I condition my hair or I might just be flung from my shower into outer space.

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