Reminiscing seems to be good for the soul. In addition to the cathartic effects of sometimes discovering truths about yourself and others, the effort to remember events in their stark veracity, can produce a new reality and a new layer of knowledge that brings into the light past decisions and offers the opportunity to heal ancient scars. Yesterday was such a day for me as I had three separate occasions to review part of my own history.
Lunch, with the same partner from a week ago, produced no new toenail polish stories but he asked me a question about whether I see myself as a conventional thinker or somewhat more radical in my approach to life. I feel that I have a fairly conventional way of thinking but can't help myself from pricking the balloon of conformity on occasion (see blog from Tuesday). I am a product of the sixties when every accepted norm was in play. Everything from government to love was poked, prodded, turned upside down, challenged and then someone would write a song about it. I learned a certain irreverence for accepted behaviour as I bounced back and forth between trying to fit in and wanting to display my independence.
"Did I live inside the box or did I prefer an existence outside the lines?" he asked. Both, would be my reply. I just love to do small and inconsequential things that produce major problems for others. For instance, and please, I urge you to try this, when you pull into a parking lot that is almost empty, don't park near the entrance doors. First of all, if you have a passenger, it will tick them off to no end ( I just assume that they could probably use the excercise but you decide if you want to say that) but even better, when you arrive at the back row, not another car in sight, park over top of the lines instead of in between them. It will drive anyone who sees this absolutely nuts. I just figure that I didn't draw the lines, no one asked me where to paint them and I get to fly in the face of people who have this need to follow the rules no matter what.
My favourite however is saved for the grocery store. When I walk up to the checkout counter and place my items on the conveyor belt, I frequently, and especially if there is a woman of a "certain age" behind me, pick up the little divider provided to separate the customers groceries from one another, turn it on its side and then lay it on the belt at a 45 degree angle behind my items. I guarantee that the person behind will move it as soon as you turn your back to them. They will usually throw a look of total disgust at you for this assault on all that is holy. A grin drives them right around the bend. I love it!
One of the other things I discovered during lunch is that my movie hero is Jack Nicholson - slightly licentious, always irrascible and consistently irreverent - I can't imagine why I would look up to him. For a guy with his looks, he always got the good looking girl, too. Right on, Jack!