Answers, Please

So, here I am. Again, awake, wide awake, at 12:30AM. I'm in no way sleepy, tired or ready to retire to my peaceful klonopin-induced slumber.

"12:30," you say. That's early. Well, yes it is. Early to me as well when I'm used to being up until 3 or 4 writing, pondering and questioning everything from my own existence to why my dog has to lay right between my legs each and every night.

I'm 48 years old. In societal norms, I'm supposed to have been asleep for at least two hours by now since I'd have to be awakened by a godawful alarm clock at the crack of dawn that beckoned me to start my day. In societal world, I'd be up and out the door, dressed for success, so to speak, by 7:00am in order to make it to my lavishly decorated cubicle by 9:00am.

Yet, that world doesn't exist for me. In another life, it was my existence, but not now. Now, I sit awake on the bed, fully awake as my wife slumbers beside me. She understands. She tolerates.

My mind cannot rest. It turns and spins. It jumps from topics as diverse as quantum physics to things as inane as who played 'Tootie' in the 80's sitcom, "The Facts of Life". All in a single, swift motion. And more amazingly, I can both understand the physics of gravitational pull and how it affects time and space while knowing that Kim Fields was 'Tootie'... and that Mindi Cohn was Natalie, a fact I try to forget, but can't.

Yet, while all of this bounces around in my skull, I try and try and try to grasp the importance of my being and why I seem so different than most others. I don't consider myself special by any means. As a matter of fact, my self-image is quite opposite. Yet, I can't fathom the idea of living the life of a typical, suburban, urban or otherwise 'normal' man.

There's nothing special about me, mind you. Except for the idea that I'm the guy in line behind you at the supermarket who chuckles when you scan your canteloupe and the register instructs you to "Please move your MELONS to the belt," I try to consider myself the everyday kind of guy... minus the mini-van and dumbass stick-figure stickers on the back window.

Then again, I do understand quantum physics. I do know how numbers comprise every element of the universe and I can give a logical, yet debatable, explanation as to how humankind has brought itself to the brink of extinction due to hubris and a false sense of security brought on by religion and greed.

Then again, here I sit. It's now 1:00AM. And the thoughts continue. It's maddening. And if I weren't already beyond the point of self-comprehension, I'd be questioning my thoughts.

A vicious cycle this is. But, it's worth the maddening influx of thought. Because really, who wants to be 'normal'? Who wants to be the one who keeps up with the Jones's, so to speak? Who longs to have their identity stripped from them for the sake of image and career? Honestly, almost everyone. And it's quite sad that so many do sacrifice mind and self for approval.

I long for approval. But, not for what I've become, but for who I am ... a flawed, skewed, sarcastic, imperfect yet quite perceptive, intelligent and insightful individual.

Quite a wish list. Only a few can claim to be Santa and fill my stocking with more than coal and the occasional orange. But I do appreciate those few and I do appreciate those of you who read this rambling man's thoughts and grasp what I'm saying. To you, I say "Booyah"... you are picking up what I'm putting down.

To the rest, think. Slow down. Stop a moment or twelve and grasp your crotch while sensing who you are, what you do and what you're meant to do. If you can do that and figure it all out, let me know. Really. I need to know how you did it.

It's 1:15AM. Mr. Drummond on 'Diff'rent Strokes' was played by Conrad Bain and the idea that an alternate universe on the flipside of an existing wormhole is an antriguing combination of thoughts.

.................................. on to the next....................