I'm tired, y'all.
I read today about the occurrences of extroversion and neuroticism between people with pets and those without. If I told you who was crazier, you wouldn't read my essay.
Of course I had to take one of the tests mentioned in the study myself, specifically the one that measures your neuroticness... Let's just say that me and the 90+ percentile have been friends ever since the PSATs. I can own that. I know I am difficult and high strung. I'm a wreck most days. But I'm also smart, funny, and a great kisser, so fifty-fifty.
I've been thinking about what Steve Almond said in the Tin House podcast I linked yesterday (if you haven't listened, go! now!) He says we've all got something deep down that we need to say, some truth about the things that matter most deeply, something we have never had the voice to express.
Most people who know me would say I talk too much. Most of what I say is silly, but it's sort of a test, too, if an inadvertent one. If you don't care about the little things, then how can I trust you to listen to the big things? Or another way: what you consider a matter of consequence might be very different from what I do. It's maybe not the most direct route to finding out, but it's not a race either, so what's the rush?
I don't know what my neuroses or chatter-mush have to do with writing just yet, but probably something.