Brain Luggage

I have a stack of tattered paper scraps on which I've scrawled assorted thoughts. When I come up with something to add to my awesome blog, I snag a pen and jot the contents of my mind on any available piece of material, whether it be the backside of a receipt or a sticky note. Later I add it to the expanding pile, and that pile waits until I get around to formulating a new post. And then I have some sorting to do. Long story short, this is why I tend to have such random posts.


By the way, my blog turned a whopping 2 years old this January. How very special.


In other computer related news, it was 3 years and 3 months ago when I unwittingly signed up for Facebook. I literally had no idea what it was until I joined. I don't think I'd even heard of it before. Having recently moved back to Boise from lovely Chubbuck, one of my friends there sent me a message encouraging me to join so we could stay in touch. I think she just wanted me to quit sending her personal emails. =)
So, I have her to thank for introducing me to the monster that is Facebook. Over the years (holy crap, that makes it sound like forever!) I've found it to be entertaining, informative, and sometimes eye-opening (still other times monotonous). I continue to check it most days to see what everyone's up to. I think of all the things I'd never hear about if not for trusty Facebook.
I enjoy making comments, and naturally I "like" receiving feedback on my stuff. I feel that it enriches relationships in ways that otherwise wouldn't be probable. I like that it's possible to make smart remarks among friends and family in the middle of an ordinary day, online, at each participant's convenience. It's cool that my cousins I'd never really interacted with (because they grew up in Arizona) and I can, through the miracles of computer science, occasionally give a cyber thumbs-up to one another, when in "real life", sad but true, I'm sure we wouldn't keep in touch.
Some people see Facebook as a substitute for actual human interaction. That's not true for me. If anything, it inspires me to keep making plans with folks I can't get enough of online. I like people. (People who neeeeed people...)

I like being silly. My life would be so boring without the wacky things that parade through my mind. It's no secret that I keep myself entertained. But sometimes I wonder if I'm taking undue credit for the things I think up. Are they really the product of me, or are the funny thoughts that frequent my head actually being whispered to me by ghosts? We often give credit to spirits for urgent thoughts-- Why not funny thoughts? I have to wonder...

I also wonder...
Why do people put underwear in the top dresser drawer? It would make more sense to store it in the bottom drawer.


Commas. I don't know how I feel about them. I often find myself not knowing where to use a comma and where to not use one. I start sentences and then reconstruct them until I'm practically positive about whether I do or do not need a comma here or there. I consult Google for guidance. That tactic usually just adds to my confusion. I do my best, until all I can do is shrug and make myself try not to care so much about commas. When it all comes down to commas, I think I tend to overdo it. When the words are said in my head and I come to an inflection, I want to add a comma. Like I just did. But then I read a novel and see no comma where I would have put one. I don't know what to do. Give me apostrophes any day; I have those down. (I'm still a bit sketchy on semicolons, too, since pretty much nobody uses them, which makes me feel silly trying it.) But commas? I just spend too much time trying to figure out where the dang things go. I don't like being wrong. I live in fear of making a big blog boo-boo. I guess I can't be a stellar speller, grammar guru and a punctuation pro all at once, right? Does anyone even care?


I think my ears are growing more sensitive to sounds that drive me absolutely crazy. It's acute hearing at its ugliest. I don't know what to do. Everyday interactions are becoming more and more unbearable. But it's only with certain people, so don't be self conscious if I'm listening to you talk. Unless you speak with a mouthful of frothing spit. Swallow already! To me, this audio experience is worse than listening to someone enjoying a bowl of cereal.


I'll conclude on a more upbeat note. About a week ago (Should there be a comma here?) I was at WinCo with Oliver, and a woman walked past me. I was looking at something, so I didn't notice that she stopped a few feet away from me. "Has anyone ever told you you look like Kelly Clarkson?" she asked. I only knew she was talking to me because somebody had told me that before. The mom of one of Jane's friends a couple of years ago. The WinCo lady said she did a double take when she saw me. I acted casual about it, reporting that one person had mentioned it before. Starting to feel a bit awkward, I quickly added, "I wish I could sing like her!" She smirked knowingly, I thanked her, and that was that. But it kind of made my afternoon. =) I'm not saying I think I look like Kelly Clarkson, but there must be a tiny resemblance. Maybe the nose or cheekbones... or something?

Anyway. . . Have a nice, random week.