Friday, April 26, 2013

I'm Bat Shit Crazy

I'm driving myself crazy. This pun is absolutely intended.
It has everything to do with traffic.
I sit in traffic for at least two hours of my day—everyday.  Initially, driving in LA mortified me. The speeding, the honking, the drinking—okay, so no drinking—all seemed to create a movie-like terror of my world suddenly spinning out of control. What I didn’t realize was that we’re all driving about 25 miles per hour and it’s hard to make that terrifying.

So instead, my brain has learned to let go of my irrational fear and turn me bat shit crazy.

It started with the singing. I think it’s pretty obvious to everyone that because I constantly sing when living my life, I jam like Celine when I’m in my car. However, my car singing stage performance has upgraded tenfold. It’s morphed from mild head bobbing and reserved singing posture into a hair-whipping, microphone-holding, too-large-hand-gesturing, Lady GaGa impersonator. It’s out of control.  The sad part is, because I’m going 15 to 25 miles per hour, everyone else gets to enjoy the set as well, with my windows down.

The next part came the gawking. A term coined by my oldest, Baltimore-living sister. It refers to any sign of accidents, trouble or unusual circumstances that causes everyone to practically stop and focus on the oddity instead of driving. I take photos of strange people, I try to decipher license plates and I am nosy about pull over’s. It’s difficult to avoid boredom after spending that much time in the car. Gawking has become just another pastime.

The last came the talking. I have begun to have full on conversations with myself. My best attempt at finding the source would be delirium. I have slowly taken a dull knife to the strings holding my sanity together and they have finally frayed. The saddest part is suddenly realizing I’m doing it and deciding to just continue. After all, I’m so intelligent and hilarious in them. Fortunately to the outside world, it looks like I’m talking to a hands-free device in my car. Oh, how little do they know?

I feel, though perhaps not admittedly, many others pertain to this type of insanity. Just let it out, it’s not like you recognize the mustached man in the prius to your right (everyone owns a prius). I do fear the day I pull up next to a friend, my boss or Jay-Z. But until then, this bat shit crazy girl is gonna keep on keepin’ on.

Thanks for soundin’ down.

A catechism ( /ˈkætəkɪzəm/; Ancient Greek: κατηχισμός from kata = "down" + echein = "to sound", literally "to sound down" (into the ears), is a summary or exposition of doctrine, traditionally used inChristian religious teaching from New Testament times to the present.[1] Catechisms are doctrinal manuals often in the form of questions followed by answers to be memorized, a format that has been used in non-religious or secular contexts as well.