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Ever feel like you live life on Candid Camera or Punk’d – one comic, pear-shaped moment after another? No? Maybe it’s just me then.
On the bus the other day, the old man beside me muttered: “I’m wearing new socks – the bus drivers are German you know”. So I thanked him politely for the heads-up and made a discreet getaway. And while we could say I handled the situation with sophistication and aplomb – for me, this stuff is more like, meh ... same ol’.
I’m reminded of meeting a housemates’ friend some years ago. Over dinner, she casually announced: “You’ll be seeing a fair bit of me – and you should probably know I’m schizophrenic – I trust that’s not a problem?!” And it wasn’t.
So for whatever reason – wherever I go – I’ve come to accept that I seem to attract the crazies – those of ‘psychiatric disadvantage’, shall we say? (I’m not too keen on an inbox clogged-up with OTT politically-correct emails, thanks very much).
Now I’ve decided this could mean one of two things – either I’m also bonkers and clueless to boot, or the insane just seem to take a shine to me. Maybe it’s just cos I don’t dog them or arbitrarily dismiss them as worthless basket-cases. Who knows?! So while I’m not ruling out the possibility that I might actually be quite mad, for now my money’s on the latter (the ‘treat unto others’ thing).
I’m sure I learnt in some psych lecture that mental illness doesn’t maketh dimwits – in fact, the clinically batty often seem pretty intuitive. And if their condition is managed properly, they usually aren’t dangerous or out howling at the moon (I’ve had boyfriends more flipped-out than that!) Trust me though – you just don’t wanna get ’em started on conspiracy theories – particularly anything involving the government, religion or war.
Funnily enough, I don’t reckon I’ve ever met a queer loony though (drug-fucked scenarios aside). But I’m sure we often consider ourselves a rather barmy lot. Ha! I guess I’m saying there seems to be a degree of nuttiness – hipster-eccentricity – apparent throughout our community. And I’m thinking we wouldn’t have it any other way.
While others often mistake me for the calm, collected type (ssshh), I think I’ve essentially come to expect those Mr Bean-like predicaments. So whether it’s a gust of wind carrying my cap down the street, spilling coffee over the HR manager, or being briefed on espionage-intel on public transport – if the scene’s set for comic disaster, I must accept my slapstick destiny. And besides, I like to think it makes me windswept and interesting.
Oh and yep, the rumours are true people – I’ve stopped blogging for now – but will continue to ramble away in the paper. After receiving some fabulous feedback from my ‘Oprah moment’ in my last column, I was left feeling quite the inspired revolutionary – feathers fluffed, brimming with joie de vivre, ready to save the World!
Well, a queen can dream.
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