My best friend called me boy crazy. I asked her what I was supposed to do about it. She said “enjoy it”.
I feel like she doesn’t understand the meaning of this term. The combination of the two words. Does one enjoy insanity in general? No.
Why? Because insanity is not normal and tends to make other people uncomfortable, at the very least.
I smiled at this guy in Ikea. It’s Ikea. You can smile at people. What, like you don’t ever smile at strangers?
He smiled back.
It was a lovely moment.
… Boy crazy. She called me boy crazy.
I used to write poems about such things. Poems really help. As do songs. People like the songs I sing about boy craziness. Perhaps they don’t like my lyrics as much as they just think my voice is nice and don’t think about the words.
Or maybe they like the words.
I don’t know.
The craziest thing I have ever done.
Hopped on a subway train in France just before the doors closed.
Got lost in a European city.
Jumped into a creek.
Taken the stairs in an dark and creepy parking lot.
Had brain surgery.
Went to finish my last semester of college across country in a neck brace.
Sang songs I wrote in front of an audience of strangers.
Acted in plays in front of strangers.
Went to Florida by myself and slept on the floor of my friend’s room.
Got stuck at Walmart for 7 hours.
My crazy doesn’t seem that crazy….not all of it at least.