Does that make me crazy?

This week while traveling on business, I heard a radio show with a segment called does that make me crazy? complete with bits of the song Crazy by Gnarls Barkley thrown in.

Listeners would call in and talk about the weird and random things they do and finish with the line, “does that make me crazy?”

My favorite one:

“Whenever I pass a tree, I have to take off a leaf and put it in my pocket. Does that make me crazy?”

Naturally, I found this particular segment to be quite entertaining, besides the obvious similarity it has to the very title (and sometimes theme) of this blog. And naturally I started thinking of my own weird and random tendencies while asking myself the question, “does that make me crazy?”

Here are a few of my own does that make me crazy? habits, most of which result from my various OCD leanings.

I can only download songs in groups of 5. My playlists must all end in a zero or a five. Does that make me crazy?

I am terrified of sneezing because when I was little someone told me that was the closest you come to death. I try to hold in my sneezes at all costs, but when I know I can’t hold one in, my entire body clenches up until it’s over. After the sneeze I feel amazing, but knowing that feeling will inevitably come doesn’t make me any less scared prior to the sneeze. Does that make me crazy?

When I am writing (to-do lists, thank you notes, etc. etc.) and I make a mistake, I have to completely start over. I can’t find it myself to cross things out and I can’t stand white out. Does that make me crazy?

Honestly, I don’t think any of these things make me as crazy as the dude who always steals leaves from trees, but it’s quite fun to think about. And it’s nice to know that most everyone has a little crazy in them. And the people who don’t admit to being just a tad crazy are probably the ones who take the crazy and turn it into insane.

I remember when, I remember
I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place
Even your emotions have an echo in so much space

And when you’re out there without care
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn’t because I didn’t know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly

And I hope that you are
Having the time of your life
But think twice
That’s my only advice

Come on now, who do you
Who do you, who do you, who do you think you are?
Ha ha ha, bless your soul
You really think you’re in control?

Well, I think you’re crazy
I think you’re crazy
I think you’re crazy
Just like me

Stumbling on love.

I’ve never been the kind of girl who is constantly looking for love. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m the kind of girl who avoids it.

I blame it on my mom. She always told me that it was important for me to be happy on my own, that I didn’t need a man and that I could – and should – be strong and independent without ever having to rely on someone else. She started planting these thoughts in my head when I was very young, about 4-years-old. So the idea of being independent has been deeply rooted in my brain for quite some time.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely appreciate the opposite sex. In fact, I really enjoy the opposite sex. I’m just not very good at serious relationships, long-term commitments or having a boyfriend. But I absolutely love dating, having silly little crushes and experiencing lust. I love the excitement. I love the getting-to-know-you process. I love not knowing what’s going to happen next. I just tend to freak out and lose all interest once things start to a) get serious and/or b) get boring.

Again, blame it on my independent mindset, complemented by my restlessness and accented by my occasional selfishness.

But lately, I’ve found myself kind of wishing I could just stumble on something – dare I say it – I’ve found myself kind of wishing I could just stumble on love.

I see it happening everywhere.

At the gym…it happened to the hot guy in the hat with the gorgeous eyes and perfectly defined arm muscles who is always working out at the crack of dawn alongside me, my obnoxious orange and yellow Nike+ shoes and my zumba/techno/pop mixed iPod. After months of simply being my early morning eye candy, he is now never more than 7-feet away from the stunning brunette with the natural-looking tan and perfect kickboxing technique. He stumbled on love.

At coffee shop…it happened to the seemingly bland and boring girl with the dirty, messy blond hair. She went from simply sitting there, absorbed in her pile of papers, looking positively dull and uninteresting to chatting it up for hours with the cute guy with the charming smile that appeared to be anything but commonplace. She stumbled on love.

And I’m jealous. I’m jealous of the hot guy in the hat with perfect muscular definition and the pretty brunette who captured his attention. I’m jealous of the boring girl with the dirty blond hair and the cute guy she somehow managed to impress. But it goes further than that…I’m jealous of practically every happy, “in love” couple I walk past.

And I wonder…how did this even happened? Where did this girl wishing to be lovestruck come from? I honestly don’t know the answer to either of those questions. And I can’t decide if I’m okay with this imposture taking over my body and my mind. I was content with my slightly distorted view of love. I was content being the girl that never worried about finding love. I was content being the girl who silently (and sometimes not-so-silently) mocked girls that were constantly on the prowl.

I actually don’t think I want to be this kind of girl at all. I don’t like worrying about when – or if! – I will stumble on love myself. And I especially don’t like feeling jealous of people that have already stumbled.

Hopefully this is just a symptom of springtime. I’m sure I’ll snap out of it at any moment…