Thoughts while Traveling

There are times in life when I feel like the purpose of my existence is to defy symmetry, to color wildly outside the lines, and to remove boundaries. Now, I don't always operate this way, just ask my husband who lives with me and gets a huge *** sigh *** from my direction when his coat is not hanging up on the hook... where his coat GOES, I might add. In my personal space, I prefer "organized" madness. The madness still exist, but it has a home. It is when I am in the spaces of others, organized "others" in particular, that I desire to splash some color around all the white and take some sandpaper to the sharp 90 degree angles.

This week the aforementioned rebellious spirit is screaming to get out as I find myself trapped in a white box. I am assisting 4 architects. Architects, I am learning, are incredibly -beyond incredibly... meticulous. (My immediate observation is OCD overload, although that seemed a bit harsh and judgemental.) I am not here to diagnose, just assist. Never have I felt like such a minority. I long to run to exile island for lunch. Question for my only architect type friend, Matt: are you ALL like this? I suppose you have to be to some extent. I get it. I don't have to like it, but I get it.

What comes to mind is a little saying I learned in elementary school. I have a vague memory of my sister and I driving our mother insane repeating this over and over with different voice inflections and voices over and over and over in the back of a mini van. Booth in the middle, reciting the Christmas story.

Crazy? I was crazy once. They locked me in a rubber room. I died in that rubber room. They buried me deep, deep down, with all the worms and bugs. Bugs? I hate bugs. They make me crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once... (and so on)

Different strokes, man. I need to get back quickly to the land of the crazies. The white box is making me see double.