Crazy? I was crazy once. They locked me in a rubber room.

I was talking with Steph the other day. I was actually talking “at” her. Talking “with” her indicates that she actually had the opportunity to talk back to me. It was one of those therapy session-type conversations where I start out with a problem, talk for 50 minutes with only occasional head nods from the listener. By the time I am finished, I have solved my problem…or at least figured it out. That day, I found some parallels in my life that were no less than shocking/profound/creepy.

I like to play am obsessed with Tetris. I can play the game for hours. I play under my own rules: 1. I must get as many Tetrises as humanly possible. When the game ends, I want my number of lines to be divisible by four. 2. If I happen to get a hole (if the damn things sends me a square and I have no place to put it), I am allowed to do anything necessary to alleviate that hole and then I must go back to Tetrises only. Sometimes I find myself starting to stress out and my inner child screams out, “I need a long straight stick thingy! I need a long straight stick thingy!” and the game doesn’t want to give me one.

My fifty minute session with myself (although I could have spent it more wisely) consisted of me figuring out that I treat my heart like a Tetris game. I am a problem solving organize-aholic. For example, I now have a boyfriend. He is sweet, but he is the most difficult person to read that I have ever met. I build up my game and every now and then he’ll throw me a long straight stick thingy. There are times, though, that I find holes and I become determined to get rid of them (this consists of me throwing down the controller and cursing). I will have to start getting rid of one line instead of four at a time. This is time consuming and tedious and my least favorite part. Once I fix it, I go back to waiting for a long straight stick thingy. It is tiring, but what fun are games if you win every single time?