Were I to die and were I to be notorious enough to have a newspaper article that attempted to sum up my life, I would want the headline to read: She had good reason.

I quickly lose patience with people who think I don’t make decisions with care.  Or don’t research things. Or any manner of failings on my part to explain the utter weirdness and chaos of my life.  I do not invite chaos.  It crashes the party and is obnoxious until the cops or the ambulance comes, whichever is first.  I might be slow to call 9-1-1, but I didn’t invite or provoke the insanity of my life’s course.

I overthink everything and decisions are hard for me.  I make a Ben Franklin list with the pros and cons of any one situation.  If I notice myself trying to find reasons to pad one column or another, I know that either my intuition is kicking in or my inner child.  I then have to tease out which one.  My intuition I trust.  My inner child is a spoiled brat, and I try not to indulge her too much although many would say the confetti has already been tossed.

So, rest assured if I have made a decision, it was done with care and research.  For the most part, I don’t care if you agree or disagree with it unless you can demonstrate that you are in possession of knowledge that I am not.  But don’t assume I’m operating on whims.  It might look that way, but no.  No. no and no.

My best friend in high school’s mother was named Peggy.  Peggy loved me and I her.  It was her fondest hope that her son and I would marry but alas my best friend was gay.  After I moved back here after a seven-year sojourn in the Midwest, I was having problems with the school system. My friend, his mother, and I were sitting around talking when I mentioned I was resisting the urge to blow up the board of education.  Peggy started to ask me something that began with “Have you” and then she stopped.  Looked at me and said, “I forgot.  You only look incompetent.” 

I howled with laughter.  And I still do.  And I must still look incompetent given the number of people who question my choices. 

Maybe that makes for a better headline.  She only looked incompetent.  Yes.  I think so. Yes.  That’s it. Words

She Had Good Reason

Were I to die and were I to be notorious enough to have a newspaper article that attempted to sum up my life, I would want the headline to read: She had good reason.

I quickly lose patience with people who think I don’t make decisions with care.  Or don’t research things. Or any manner of failings on my part to explain the utter weirdness and chaos of my life.  I do not invite chaos.  It crashes the party and is obnoxious until the cops or the ambulance comes, whichever is first.  I might be slow to call 9-1-1, but I didn’t invite or provoke the insanity of my life’s course.

I overthink everything and decisions are hard for me.  I make a Ben Franklin list with the pros and cons of any one situation.  If I notice myself trying to find reasons to pad one column or another, I know that either my intuition is kicking in or my inner child.  I then have to tease out which one.  My intuition I trust.  My inner child is a spoiled brat, and I try not to indulge her too much although many would say the confetti has already been tossed.

So, rest assured if I have made a decision, it was done with care and research.  For the most part, I don’t care if you agree or disagree with it unless you can demonstrate that you are in possession of knowledge that I am not.  But don’t assume I’m operating on whims.  It might look that way, but no.  No. no and no.

My best friend in high school’s mother was named Peggy.  Peggy loved me and I her.  It was her fondest hope that her son and I would marry but alas my best friend was gay.  After I moved back here after a seven-year sojourn in the Midwest, I was having problems with the school system. My friend, his mother, and I were sitting around talking when I mentioned I was resisting the urge to blow up the board of education.  Peggy started to ask me something that began with “Have you” and then she stopped.  Looked at me and said, “I forgot.  You only look incompetent.” 

I howled with laughter.  And I still do.  And I must still look incompetent given the number of people who question my choices. 

Maybe that makes for a better headline.  She only looked incompetent.  Yes.  I think so. Yes.  That’s it.