I am that weird type of person that cannot discover a new blog and only read the posts available on the main page on the day I discovered it (I make it sound like there are others who do this… I have no idea if there are others). Instead, I have to go back to the very first post, however long ago it was written, and read from the beginning. I admit, it’s a strange habit. And it actually keeps me from reading new blogs sometimes, because the undertaking seems too much to accomplish in my available free time. But, for me, it’s like picking up a book and turning to page 100 to start reading. It’s just wrong. This is also why I cannot (usually) start watching a TV show that has been on for several seasons, unless the previous seasons are available on DVD so I can catch up—this typically means that someone I know owns all the seasons, because I am too cheap to buy them unless I know I like the show (which I can’t know if I’ve never seen it) and I’m too lazy to go rent them one disk at a time.
When my sister introduced me to The Pioneer Woman in late 2008, I therefore had to start with her archives. It only took me nine months to catch up… And about a month ago, my sister sent me to Temerity Jane and the inevitable happened. I haven’t caught up yet, but it’s been interesting clicking on links that don’t exist anymore or going to blogs that have died years ago. Anyway, in one of TJ’s old posts, she sent her readers to a (then-current) post by Hyperbole and a Half. The post was about winning. No, not the Charlie Sheen weirdness called #winning (which is how I see it in my head anytime anyone says that word in reference to that man). I mean, creating little games and contests for yourself, completely inside your own head, and then winning at them. I could not believe how many of my ridiculous thoughts were in that post!
Since I read it this morning, I caught myself “winning” like her all day. I find myself racing people on the highway and winning—not racing in a speeding or dangerous way, but just seeing if I can accelerate at the green light before them or nudge the nose of my car a little past them before I slow down to make a turn while they keep going. Or sorting my M&Ms by color and winning if they come out even. Checking the clock and winning when it’s within a few minutes of what I guessed it would say. And I count all kinds of things, almost unconsciously and win when it comes out to a multiple of five. Someone on her site mentioned that these might be symptoms of OCD, but the rest of the comments reassured me that everyone has this kind of quirky behavior to a certain extent. This is one reason I love the internet: learning you’re not the only weirdo out there. Oh, and I totally win when I walk down the hallway and don’t crash into a wall or fall on my face, but this has less to do with OCD and more to do with IDS.
What is IDS, you ask? IDS stands for I’m a Dancer Syndrome. And before you tell me that’s not a real thing, I would like you to stop and listen. IDS is real. IDS is serious. IDS is a non-curable, chronic disorder that wreaks social and physical havoc and may or may not be hereditary. You see, my sister and I fall down a lot. A lot, a lot. An embarrassing amount of lot. And it’s strange, because my sister was a ballet dancer for most of her childhood and young adult years—she had no problem being graceful while doing ballet. I quit ballet in the second grade and am therefore a completely explainable klutz. In any event, she and I have both gotten ourselves into situations that the laws of physics seem to deny are possible.
One day, she fell at work and a coworker told her not to be embarrassed, but to wear it proudly. To jump right back up, raise her arms above her head, and shout, “I’m a dancer!” as if calling out, “I meant to do that!” She and I (and our mother, who suffers with a much milder form of the disorder) found this to be hilarious and have taken to doing exactly that when we fall down. This coping mechanism did not cure us (it wasn’t even a viable treatment) and we will continue to fall down. But at least now we have something funny to say when we get back up.
And basically, this post just highlighted three of my very strange behaviors in an unplanned, stream of consciousness way. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I’m posting it anyway.