Yes, my mother had me tested and no, sadly, I am not crazy.
Truth be told, I wish I was. Crazy is definitely more interesting and fraught with excitement than ordinary. However, I'm not too fond of the crazies' haute couture. I don't look good in white. Never have, never will.
Digression: I remember when I was in grade school and dutifully enrolled by my parents in a private, unwavering Catholic school... every first Friday of the month (or was it last? Egads, I've forgotten!) we were required to wear this godforsaken white gala uniform with long sleeves, and buttons designed to close off every imaginable breathing orifice. Suffice it to say, I hated Fridays as much as I hated Mondays.
Unflattering outfit aside, I'd still like to be crazy than ordinary in any given day. It's empowering when people don't know what to expect from you. They look at you with curious interest and hopeful bewilderment. Isn't that better than have them look at you as if they're saying, "Ho-hum. Next!"
Admittedly, I think my friends already think I'm crazy. Huh... maybe that's why I haven't been seeing so much of them lately. Bah, who needs friends when you have two strong-willed plush toys who just can't get along? Have you ever tried getting in the middle of two fighting plushies? One of which is a ninja! True, his shurikens are made out of felt but still.
I digressed again, didn't I? Dagnabit! I hate it when that happens.
Hmmmm... butterflies.
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