Utter Lunacy

Sometimes I wonder how other people think. Then I start thinking about all the thoughts that other people have. This leads to more pondering and the realization that everyone has an existence in which I am not the focal point. I then lay plans to become the focal point of more lives.

It's weird to think about how everyone else has a life in which you play a minor role, or no role at all. Their existence is so isolated from yours that you probably have almost no impact on it. However, thinking about this only boggles my mind because I can't figure out why people don't find me more fascinating. Let's be honest: I find myself extremely interesting, and I have to live with me all the time. Those of you that get a couple hours a week or less should find me infinitely more fascinating because you only catch glimpses of my genius and aren't around me enough to get tired of it.

I met a man on an airplane once. His name was Zach. Zach Smith. He was a rapping prospector from the middle of Idaho. He prospected on land, and had apparently done well for himself. I heard his whole life story, his marital problems, the dissolution of his marriage, his attempts to help folks, his rapping career, his medical issues, his bipolarity, his zen outlook on life, and how he was now going home to Florida because his grandmother was on her deathbed. 

When I sat down he said, "Ah man, I hope you're not the type of guy that doesn't talk during the flight, because I can find another seat if you are." I am, in fact, the type of guy that doesn't talk during flights. But I made an exception, and because of this Zach Smith and I got to play roles in each others' lives. Crazy, crazy roles. In fact, there was a time during the flight when I tried to figure out how fast the flight attendants could get there if things went out of control. I bet I could have taken him, but he could have easily gotten the jump on me in close quarters. It never came to that (thanks to my artful steering).

The funny thing is, I remember his name. I remember his story. I remember his philosophy and his genius. And I remember it all because he was 100% Zach Smith, and he honestly did not care who or what saw it. He is the type of man who will never understand dishonest people because he has never hidden who he is. I cannot say the same for me. In fact, I would be surprised if he remembered me (he did most of the talking). I am quite comfortable not being me.

In fact, I'm so comfortable not being me that the persona I have constructed painstakingly over the last decade is ironclad. The closest it comes to cracking is when I am playing Just Dance and I'm in the dancing zone. The look of intense concentration. The sharpness of movement. The refusal to accept anything less than my best. All things I mostly don't express in normal life.

My mother once said that all of her children were intense about certain things. She didn't tell me what I'm intense about. She just said, "You have your things." And it's true. I have my things.

I have always been even-keeled (except that one rocky patch). Steady. Over the years I have added prideful, braggy, self-assured, laid-back, phenomenal, handsome, sultry, and several other adjectives. But most of them are just pieces, fragments that I weave into a mostly convincing whole. A projection. A hologram. Robotic, cold-hearted, distant, aloof.

But in reality, I'm none of those things. I think the word I would use to describe the inner me is passion. I seem hard to reach, but I'm constantly reaching. I'm so in the thick of things that I'm up to my knees in the mud. I can tell you details about your life that you don't remember telling me. I pay constant attention to everyone and everything around me. I forget names simply because it's easier to say I'm bad with names than to explain how I already know you're from Such-and-such a place and that you are majoring in theoretical astrobiology because I overheard the conversation you had with Steve (and don't ask how I know his name) three weeks ago as I was leaving the class next-door. I watch how you carry yourself and extrapolate what must be causing you stress in your life, where you're holding your tension and how you can let it go. 

I don't just read books or listen to music or watch TV. I am a consumer in the truest sense of the world. I chew it, swallow it, digest it, and let the nutrients integrate with my cellular structure. I can tell you the plot of every book I've ever read, exactly what I thought about it, what lessons I learned from it, and why you should read it and exactly why I think you'd enjoy it. Same with movies, TV shows, albums, plays, etc. Even if I half paid attention to it. Asking me my favorite of anything is ridiculous. Unless it's my favorite Mac and Cheese. That would be my mother's.

But I project my robo-hologram because people are much more comfortable being bludgeoned than they are cut. So I gently bash my way into people's hearts instead of stabbing my way there. My projection is a club, uncouth and unimpressive. I am a sword, advanced, sharp, quick, focused, driven, full of fire and fury. And grandiose. Because let's face it, that part of the projection is real. All of the projection is real. It's just that the robo-hologram is the parts of real I'm okay with you seeing. Maybe I (or we) should be a little bit more like Zach. Always on. Always honest. Always himself.