I went to Starbucks the other day. I walked in, I stood in line. I noticed that people were sort of smiling at me in an indulgent way- the way you look at a child when they are telling a less than amusing story but you want to encourage them to continue so you just smile and try to follow along. Then, I realized something. They weren’t smiling at me indulgently, they were smiling at me uncomfortably. All the people in line at Starbucks were very uncomfortable. And it was because of me. What could I have done, you might wonder, to make all of these people (and there were a lot of people in there) so uncomfortable? At first, I had no idea, and then I realized something. I. WAS. SINGING. I was singing out loud. I was singing at loud at Starbucks. Granted, it was a great song I was singing- and really they should thank me for exposing them to such stellar music. All the same though, I can understand why they were uncomfortable. I mean, being around people who are clearly bonkers can be awkward. I accept that- I just never realized that what I really needed to accept was that I was the one who was bonkers. But clearly, I am absolutely mad. I was singing in public and didn’t even realize it. Again, it was a great song, but still.
I’m not sure if this is the worst part or the best part, but I wasn’t all that embarrassed. I just sort of shrugged, ordered my coffee, and went my merry way. At least some people got a good story out of it. But you know, I’m wondering, if at some point, I should be worried because this incident all by itself is hilarious and harmless but coupled with last weeks “dancing” I am starting to question my sanity. Am I becoming more Mad Hatter and less Alice? When people refer to me as “eccentric” (which I’ve always taken as an immense compliment) do they really mean “insane’?
My Mom says no. She says that it’s great that I am so uninhibited. I’m thinking that maybe I should get some inhibitions. Then, my Mom reminded me that I had enough inhibitions in middle school to last me a lifetime. The lady makes a good point.
The Mad Hatter and Alice weren’t all that different anyway. All the same, I really hope they let me blog at the asylum.