bats.

I think I'm really funny.  In fact I am really funny.  I walk through life laughing at myself.  Most of the time I'm the only one.  This makes me look like I've got a screw loose. 

It also makes me a little sad.  After all, there are few things more pathetic than someone having a gut laugh and no one else joining in the merriment.  Kind of like there is nothing more jovial than a room full of friends or family splitting their sides.

I have several theories about why people don't seem to realize how funny I am.  The theory currently winning in my head is that my brain is a little off.  Not that I'm crazy really, just that my brain must work differently than most peoples brains.  See, I learned when I was in college, one of those random tidbits that just magically stuck with me, that humor is what happens when the brain makes a new connection.  It made sense to me then as it does now, though explaining it is a bit difficult.  However, I'm currently hypothesizing that people don't realize I'm funny because most people are missing some crucial brain connection that allows them to make the same connections I'm making, thereby, I'm not as funny to them as I am to me.  I've decided that the problem can't be in my brain because I'm getting the funny.  (he he he see, self delusion does work.)
Another hypothesis is that I've started laughing at myself as a self preservation mechanism.  This life can be hard.  For instance this morning when it was time to get up, I literally started crying.  The thought of the nice warm bed sitting there all lonely was just so wretched that I literally wept.  My poor bed with no one to enjoy it's nice warmth or to snore away the day. . . can you imagine that.  It's a very hard life I lead.  So, to stave off the tragic effects of my lonely bed, I laugh at myself. yeah, maybe not.
One more hypothesis, which I guess is the other side of the coin from the primary hypothesis (I told you it was winning) is that the synapses in my brain are missing or wired wrong.  I do not like this theory.  I do not like it at all because it means I have bats in the belfry. 
However, if I have to have bats in the belfry in order to be able to laugh at myself, then send in the bats. . . or was it clowns. . . I don't get clowns. . . they are very unfunny.

i need more sleep or why life is not a Disney movie

This morning I finished my morning shift after working 26 of the last 50 hours and realized I had to go return the pants I'd purchased two weeks ago because I bought the wrong size.  I also needed envelopes. So in spite of my reticence about going when I was tired, I went. 
I pulled into the parking lot.  I saw a truck waiting to turn out of an aisle.  It seemed they were waiting for me to turn, so I started to turn, I got just past the point of no return, and the truck starts to go!  I thought "don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me" and proceeded to gun it to get out of this maniac's way.
She must have been distracted and since her ginormous truck was so tall, she couldn't see me in front of her.  I barely made it around this truck with my life and my car intact and RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME there's this old man with a badge from the establishment I am about to patronize. 
I slammed on my brakes to avoid hitting him.  (though honestly, I didn't have to slam that hard.) He hurried out of the way glaring at me as if I'd just kicked his dog and his infirm wife and his favorite grandchild. 
I hurried, perhaps more carefully, to park and got out to try to find him to apologize, but I couldn't find him.  He must have learned to walk VERY quickly from his recent brush with a somewhat near death experience.  I walked to one side of the car and then to the other and finally after I walked back to the first side I caught sight of him.  I tried to get his attention to appologize, but he turned and glared at me again.  I wondered befuddled why he wouldn't let me apologize.  I'd obviously startled him. 
I figured he was probably on his way into work, so I decided to keep an eye out for him and apologize more politely inside.  I gathered up my purse and jeans while making a mental list of all the crap I needed to do and striving to remember the old man's face so I would recognize him if I saw him again. 
I didn't have to look long.  Just inside the door talking with a coworker was my failed homicide attempt. At least that's how he must have felt from our conversation.  It went something like this:
"I'm SO SORRY!! I didn't see you."
"you were going too fast"
" I thought that truck was g. . ."
"you just need to slow down"
"I'm so sorry I thought that lady in the tru"
"You were going too fast"
At this point I turned to his coworker in desperation to try to get the rest of my sentence out.  I don't know why this was so important to me.
"There was a truck and I thought it was going to hit me so I sped up to get out of her way and he was behind her and I didn't see him"
All through this hastily uttered statement, he is muttering "she was going too fast she needs to slow down she just about ran right over me!"
I turned back to the old man and said "I'm so sorry.  I'm so glad you're ok."
"I'm fine."
"I'm glad you're ok."
He is now shooting me a death glare reminiscent of Severus Snape so I walk away to take care of my business.

I wish I could say that that incident was over for me at that moment, but obviously, as you can see by the fact that I'm writing about it, I'm still obsessing.  Perhaps he just needed me to say "You're right sir I was going to fast." Perhaps I could have said "you're right I should have been going slower." and just left it there.  It would have validated his feelings and shown him that I was sincerely sorry.  That statement would have justified his feeling of superiority over me.  That action would have given him the right to think I was an airheaded ninny, driving carelessly.  It would not have put me out really at all, and would have helped him think I had learned something and was appropriately repentant.
Then again perhaps I should have just forgotten the whole thing and not tried to apologize at all.  Afterall, I really did everything I felt I needed to do in order to  keep myself and everyone around me as safe as possible.  Given the exact same scenario, I would probably do the exact same thing.  I'm not sorry.  Not apologizing would have played into his sense that I was a irresponsible, careless, asinine, young driver. And therefore helped him feel superior to me and justified in hating me.  It wouldn't have put me out at all, in fact, it would probably have made my morning easier to deal with since I wouldn't have been dealing with feeling guilty while I was trying to shop.
I guess in my desire to apologize, I negated his point of view that I was needlessly speeding, and muddled his ability to feel superior, or to think of me and thereby all young drivers as reckless and addlepated.  How rude of me.
It seems to be the human condition that we want people who wrong us to BE wrong.  We want people to make us angry to BE the villain.  We want life to be like Disney.  Unfortunately, I have this belief in life that there is rarely if ever really a villain, and if we just take the time to listen and try to understand, we just might get a new perspective.  If we just take the time to attempt to communicate, we might find another human being just doing the best they can to make it through their own story.  I wish I didn't forget that so very often.