Friday, March 19, 2010

Blind

I found out recently that the name "Cecily" is from a Latin word meaning "blind" or "the dim-sighted", which I find painfully appropriate, as I can't see. Oh it's not so much that my eyes are a problem (although as I get older they are going into the 20-100 range), it's more what my insane brain convinces my eyes they are viewing. I once asked a doctor about it and he explained that while there is nothing wrong with my eyes, I merely see what I want to see. In other words, if a situation or a person is too boring or painful, I replace the visual stimuli with something more interesting to me, e.g., hundreds of beagles running through a yard or Robert Pattinson's giant head. I do not want to see my ex's new wife and so when I run into her at the Grove, my mind replaces her hair extensions with the sticky, beautiful hair-gel of Edward Cullen and tells my eyes, "Hey, look at this instead. You'll like it better."

Sometimes it works the other way. If my crazy-brain is bored and wants to create a little drama, it sketches out that ex's wife and replaces the image of say...a street sign...with her face. "Oh my, there's Blond girl...there's Blond girl," I once said to my friend, Greg. ("Blond girl" is what we called one of my ex's insipid, hacky comic-of-a-girlfriend back in the day). "No Cecily," he replied worriedly. "That's a yield sign. See?" "Oh yeah, well, it kinda looks like her."

A few days ago I was at Ralph's Grocery when my neighbor (whom I can't stand due to his...loud...90s...techno...music) passed by me and said "Hi." My mind replaced his face with that of another neighbor's Labrador Retriever named Knuckles. I assume this was to protect me from the annoyance of seeing him near the deli meats. Luckily, I did not say "Oh hey Knuckles!" because I fear he'd have then called the mental health authorities.

I guess my point is this: if I run into you and seem disproportionately happy, I probably think you are Snoopy or Knuckles or Topher Grace. If I seem unhappy however, my mind may have replaced your face with that of an ex or worse, an ex's new girlfriend/wife. Is it too late to call those mental health authorities?

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2 comments:

  1. I'll remember this if you get to come to the reunion:)

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  2. Love your Blog! Very entertaining, witty and smart!
    Keep 'em coming....

    ReplyDelete