I think about stuff. A lot. Don’t know if you’ve noticed that…
But if you have, what you probably don’t know is what it looks like–or sounds like–when I think intently about stuff. That’s because on this blog, you’re only reading the outcome of what I’ve been thinking about. You don’t get to see what actually goes on when the wheels are turning.
If I were looking at myself from the outside, I think it would be pretty funny to watch…because I have this tendency to completely forget where I am or who I am with when I’m thinking about stuff. Let me give an indication of some of the things that can happen/HAVE happened when I get lost in my thoughts. Here are the signs that I’m thinking intently about something:
- Suddenly staring off into space while someone is talking, and missing the last half of what they said.
- Staring into space in someone’s general direction, so it looks like I’m staring AT them (when actually it’s more like I’m staring THROUGH them–but it still freaks people out).
- Furrowed eyebrows, wrinkled forehead, and a look that mildly resmbles being pissed off (even though I’m probably not).
- Muttering to myself as I walk down the street.
- Not hearing when someone says hello to me.
- Any of several other embarrasing scenarios that either no one has told me about, or haven’t happened yet. (If you know of one I haven’t mentioned, kindly keep it to yourself for now.)
You especially want to be around me when I’m writing a song in my head. I do a lot of composing while I drive, or while walking from point A to point B. Once I forget I’m in public (which doesn’t take long), “songwriting mode” is typically accompanied by strange, rythmic, whispery, saliva-ey sounds emanating from my mouth. (In my head and inner ear, it sounds very much like drums; but I imagine it sounds way different to the outside world.)
Believe it or not, “songwriting mode” used to be a lot worse. I’ve written songs in my head for as long as I can remember, and as a kid, forgetting where I was usually involved singing whatever I was trying to write.
I suppose when those kids started pointing at me and laughing, that should have given me a clue that I should have reserved “songwriting mode” for pacing in my bedroom, or the shower, or isolated fields miles from other members of the human race. Oh, well. Whatever.
So am I alone in my freak-ness? Or is anyone out there like me?