No really. Even though its Hollywood rendering of Minnesota has me thinking of my own equally unresearched rendering of Pittsburgh, there is some food for thought there.
Granted I am not a 17 year old with a Dawson's Creek-ian vocabulary (although I would like to think that I was) and a bun in the oven via Michael Cera sperm; who I am conviced would be too busy making awkward jokes and self-deprecating comments under their breath to find an ovum if it was staring them in the face- BUT I was thinking about it this morning when the dad gives her advice about being with someone who likes you for exactly who you are.
My own variations on this very credo have led me into much happiness and lovey dovey crap, but is there ever a point where too much is too much?
Innocent conversations take a turn for the worse when my cripplingly oppressive paranoia comes out.
To the point where I don't see it coming because my cripplingly oppressive denial has kept me from acknowledging the paranoia in the first place.
For example:
Guy: Have you ever had your bed up against the wall in a corner before?
Me: Yes, because as a child I was convinced someone was going to sneak into my house and kidnap or
stab me while I slept.
Guy: -silence-
Me: What?
Yes, that is really what 7 year old me thought and thus executed in any and all bedroom re-arranging plans.
Luckily I was happily ignorant of the various other misdeeds that can happen to young people or I don't think wedging myself into a tightly clenched log between sheetrock and mattress would have done a thing for my sanity.
Not only was this relatively irrational (I know it has happened on occasion, I watch the news, but generally speaking, a 3rd floor bedroom is further down the list on the home invasion tour), but relatively morbid.
When asked if there were other instances of what I was slowly realizing to be abnormal behavior, I responded with a recurring fear that while walking my dog he will collapse and die and I will be stuck on the side of the road or walking path with no cell phone and a dog corpse.
Again, silence.
Ah, plot twist - Guy's brother's dog actually did drop dead mid-walk... yes it's sad but - Triumphant Ha! Ha! - not unfounded.
It's a serious concern of not only the tragedy of my canine companion dying in front of me but the dual terror of being unable to reach anyone and trying to haul a 70 lb dog after what I'm sure was a strenuous work out.
I'm so not kidding when I say this is the tip of the ice berg.
Guy inquired if that was why I was such a light sleeper, my highly educated and psycho-analytical mind came up with, "Hm, Maybe."
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