Coloring Outside the Lines

I do strange things.

I guess we all do--you probably do all kinds of strange things, but you don't know they're strange. So do I. But I also do things that I know are strange. I do things precisely because they're strange. Their strangeness is reason enough to do it.

"Strange" is probably a relative term. Does that matter? I don't know. I'm really just interested in seeing how people react to something out of the ordinary. It might not be received well, but if it isn't, I can usually just chalk it up to people not having enough of a sense of humor about life. That seems like a pretty good way out of being concerned about it. But that's why I can do the things I do.

Someday it will come back to bite me, I'm sure. I'll say or do something because, hey, let's see what happens, and somebody will punch me in the head, or I'll lose my job, or they'll have to wipe the blood from their foreheads, but oh well. It's worth it. I don't want to get to the end of my life and say "I should have _______." If that happens to come with a few more occasions to say "Maybe I shouldn't have ________," I can deal with that.

I'm old enough to know who I am, what I want out of life, and how to get it. I'm happy, and I can rarely say the same for the ones that spend their years trying so hard to pick the "right" colors and making sure they color in the "right" spaces. I'm interested in what happens when I venture outside all that.

Try it.