I am a talker, and I talk outloud to myself. I'd like to say it's because I've lived alone so long, but the truth is I've always done it. I probably got in the habit of it when I was kid and had no one else to talk to. I need to get a fake bluetooth so that people walking down the street won't think I'm crazy.
But I probably am.
All the women in my mother's family eventually go crazy; some earlier in life, some later. It's not Alzheimer's, the doctors don't know what it is. I call it Crazy Irish Women's Disease. Although, my mother's maiden name was Downs, so I thought of calling it Downs Sydrome, but I understand that name has been taken (Equity rules).
Unlike some of the women in my family, if I am crazy, I'm Good Crazy, not Bad Crazy. Except for a touch of the Paranoia, I'm generally overly optimistic about life, love my friends to distraction, and see a joke in almost everything. The CIWD victims who are Bad Crazy, are Uber Paranoid, Mean, Greedy, Self-centered and Judgmental. (aka Republican) If I *ever* start to exhibit these traits stick a DNR note on my chest and shoot me. Thank you.
I have come to embrace my craziness, because I don't see any option; other than letting it drive me crazy, which I'm afraid would cancel out the first crazy and leave me sane. I don't think I could live that way.
So, if you see a short, aging, curly-haired lady walking past Linn Park talking and laughing away to herself, please know that she does not actually live in Linn Park. She's just A Functioning Lunatic, probably headed to Rojo.
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