Call me crazy.  Call me weird.  I know it's true and I know I'm not alone.  Well, at least that is what I hope.  Be forewarned - I am going to ramble, but if I don't put this nonsense into words I will be eaten alive - of that much I am sure.  

I suppose I should start at the beginning where all beginnings begin, although most of my thoughts start in the middle or sometimes even the end.

I remember reading somewhere once or twice that every human being on earth has an unrelated "counterpart".  Supposing this is true, does everyone's counterpart think in the same manor, maybe even in the same instant?  Could it be some other poor soul is plagued with my twisted ruminating and haunted by over-analyzing the nonsensical and nonessential?  

For instance, who else lies awake at night wondering how words like absquatulate, bafflegab or honorificabilitudinitatibus came about?  Okay, so Shakespeare made up that last one, but it quenches my thirst for sesquipedalian words.  Which reminds me, why on earth is the medical term for people who have a phobia of long words hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia???  How could any afflicted person come to terms with their phobia if they can't even pronounce or look at the word without having a conniption?

But I digress.  See what I mean? 

I have also noticed that I not only carry one train of thought at a time but Grand Central Stations full.  In one corner is my favorite band of the moment performing snippets of a new song, while Longfellow is reciting lines from his "Footsteps of Angels".  An episode of Friends or Seinfeld plays out while I contemplate the next art project I want to create.  All happening at once while I go about my mundane day and mentally narrate my life.

Did I mention my narrating is done with an English accent?  I've lived on the East Coast all my life, but somehow the accent seems appropriate.  (Thank Gawd I nevah adopted the local accent!)  I always seem to narrate in the third person and about the most commonplace tasks, too.  My brain doesn't just register "bath mat" when I step out of the shower.  No.  That would be too simple.  "Her pink toes sink gratefully into the welcoming midnight fluff".  Yes.  That sounds more like it.

"...And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, and is now a saint in heaven."

Drop earrings.  No; chandelier earrings.  Blue beads.  Maybe a landscape painting?  Haven't done one of those in a while.  Acrylics or oils?

"...it's always raining in my head, forget all the things I should have said...I can't take any more of this, I want to come apart, or dig myself a little hole inside your precious heart, 'cause it's always raining in my head..."

Now, how to compose the ending where all endings end.  Then again, this is my mind, so...

Hello!