Everything sublime is as difficult as it is rare. Baruch Spinoza

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

We're All Mad Here ~ The Cat

If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see? 
Alice
The Persistence of Memory ~ Salvador Dali

The cousin speaks to me in muffled mumbles. I cannot hear her, so I watch her face. When she smiles I laugh softly and when she frowns I shake my head and murmur, oh dear. The original low talker. This cousin I have known always. Her husband, another eternal in my life, says you need to watch your pets, with all the Asians around. I look at him as he sagely nods his head. All around agree that Canadians need to come to the US to get medical care. They sit with their hands clasped in their laps, heads bobbing in agreement. Canadian health care doesn't work. They all say so. And the mother knows plenty of Canadians who need to come here to be treated. I comment that the mortuary business must be booming in Canada, since they can't get any treatment there. Four sets of eyes fall upon me, wondering where I came from, secretly wishing I would return to wherever that place is. I wonder as well. I wonder if this is real or if I am in the middle of a Salvador Dali painting. Perhaps I walked through the looking glass.

Absurdity in a hospital room. Awkwardness, discomfort, a continuance of a lifelong en guard. As I stepped into the hall to check my reality, I gazed about for any lingering pet eating Asians and was pretty sure I heard an errant 'eh' escaping one of the patient's rooms. Must be a lucky Canadian, thinks me. One less for the mortician.

In every family there is that one, the one that doesn't fit. The one that makes the rest look at their feet as they shuffle them around, moving some invisible object to and fro. That one would be me. Usually this person in a family has some prison stories, a bunch of piercings and a friend named Spike, the prison tattoo artist. I have the ability to think critically. They would prefer Spike.

How do you like your tea; in a cup or in a bag dangling from your hat?

11 comments:

  1. What a bang on description of finding oneself in some weird alternate reality - in the middle of one's own family!!

    I'll be on the lookout for the dangerous asians and will probably have to make several major detours around the line-ups to get the dead up here into the mortuaries.

    Hang on Sandra. It could be worse. You could be one of them!

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  2. HA! Out of a family of 8, we have two(one of them being me) that OBVIOUSLY walk in an alternate world, one that fakes "normal" pretty well, and one that walks around claiming she must be from another planet.

    If someone ever dared to call me normal I would be highly offended! I agree with Bonnie, "...It could be worse. You could be one of them!"

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  3. Oh yes, I prefer the title "Ecentric" if you please.

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  4. Let's see if that "Eccentric Woman" can spell!

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  5. actually , if you were one of them , you wouldn't realize how other critical thinkers perceived you.
    I so get this.

    Beautifully written.

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  6. lol. Try being the *hippie* amongst a bunch of *straights*. I prefer *eccentric* also. The *other reality*, the one the others don't see, has plenty going for it. One gets to meet some extremely interesting people there ~ like you! ☺

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  7. Barry and I laughed out loud at this one. Were you thinking of us when you were writing this? Oh yes, the mother has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend who told them and so that is proof.

    I have been known to stop a conversation dead with a single word and I happen to dislike tea in a bag unless it is one of those darling organic organza ones that I buy because I love the packaging. What can I tell you? not having near relations can be a blessing some time.

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  8. Oh but Bonnie, I am! We are related by blood and history, so there is no escaping it!

    gsc, I think I am normal and everyone else is mad. : )

    Debra, I'm too boring to be eccentric. I'm simply opinionated. : )

    deb, so true. So what is it I don't recognize because I am? Now this is sounding like Alice...

    Ganeida, I picture you moving through your life is a flurry of cats and kids and poetry. I don't think you look up often enough to notice! Too busy burrowing your nose in Celts.

    Allegra, we all have them, the family. Sometimes we need to extract a little humor from something we can't control. If I'm going to use a tea bag, I do prefer it in my cup!

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  9. Well done Sandra! You have described this so well. You may be the "Odd one out" in the family setting but you are very articulate. It is good to be the one to stand out!

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  10. I am the alternate eccentric. Actually, my whole FAMILY is the alternate eccentric in a very Protestant Lutheran farming community.
    I laughed and laughed...and my first thought was that I would have to sit right next to you - because YOU would've been MY favorite in the room (remember I got in the argument last fall with the football mom about the Canadians and their death panels?)

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  11. Lorac, I'm rather tired of being the one standing out. sigh.

    Britwife, I do remember your encounter. They are among us!

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I really appreciate the concept and sentiment behind awards, but I cannot participate in them anymore. I have too may and I have not got the time to devote to participating properly. To all who have honored me, I am grateful but I don't have seven more things to tell anyone about myself! And I'm a terrible passer-oner.