The more I get to know and meet new people in my life, the more I have come to realise that I’m somewhat of an over thinker. It’s not always a bad thing, over thinking, but sometimes I do think that I take the thoughts a little too far.

Like, it’s not so much things that play on my mind, it’s people. People, people, people. I waste hours of my life just sitting still in silent places (mostly my living room – it’s the only place I can sort of get close to silence) thinking and rethinking conversations and situations that I’ve experienced, both in the recent and distant past, and how they might pan out in the near or distant future. I wonder why the things that were said were said and whether or not they can be interpreted in different ways and, if they can, what would those be and did I get the right interpretation the first time around or is that something I’ll just never know? I guess you could call that too much. Or just enough, I don’t know, but it does feel like a lot of thinking.

Most of the time, the feeling that I’m filled with, after my interactions with people, is guilt. I feel so darn guilty all the time! Why? Sometimes to the point where it will wake me up at night. You know that pang? Like your heart literally has strings and a tiny guilt maestro is playing the saddest tune you ever heard in your life! Hurrrrf, that guilt song! But then I don’t always know exactly what I feel guilty about. I think it comes from wanting to be nice. Like, I want to be a decent person. Sky Wizard forbid anything happens to me, but say I fell down dead this day, I would want people to think, “man, she was a really decent human being.” I want that. So I try to be nice. But I do not always succeed. I mean, it’s hard because some people are idiots. I’m just not gonna be all that nice to an idiot. (I don’t feel at all guilty about that actually.) OK, it’s that some people mean well, but… I don’t think I need to elaborate, actually. We all know a “well meaning, but…”, we all have them in our lives and when you’re not nice to them, it’s like you slapped a baby in the face. Not hard, like it would hurt, but enough that it shocks them and they look at you so confused. Or other times I feel guilty because I’M the idiot. I’m the one causing someone’s brow to furrow. I’m the exasperater and even when I try to stop doing what I’m doing I just can’t. I fall victim to myself and then engulf the people around me and, well, I feel really guilty about that. “Let me unfurrow that brow. No? It annoys you more when I try? OK. I’ll stop. Sorry, though.” Time passes. “I’m good now. I’ve stopped being annoying. OK, I’ll talk to you some other time.” Waah, doesn’t that make you feel bad?

Then, of course, there are those times when I really should feel guilty, like, there’s no over thinking, it’s just basic human decency. Like when I put my headphones in, even though I’m not listening to anything, just so I can ignore someone. Or when I take the last of something knowing that someone else probably needed it more than me. Or when I don’t hold a door open for someone who’s struggling because I don’t want to miss my train. Or when I jump a queue because someone’s taking SO long that I think I can be in and out before they even reach the door. You know, those things. But, honestly, I do try to be nice. Most of the time.

The point at which my people problem gets a little bit weird, is when I humanize inanimate objects and then develop a strange connection to them. I do this a LOT with plants. (But then plants are living things, so it only half counts.) It all started when I put googly eyes on Vincent Van Coconut – formally known as Percy Plant, until my six-year-old niece said she thought he looked a lot like Vincent Van Coconut. (Who?) I started to talk to Vincent regularly and I swear his leaves got greener, the more I interacted. Then I thought to myself, come on, this is silly, so I cut our conversations completely. That is until his leaves turned 50% brown! What had I done!! ? My neglect was killing him! Now I make the effort to, at least, acknowledge my plants with a “hello” on a daily basis, but if I have time to chat, I’ll chat. (There are just not enough hours in the day for all this shit!)

The most recent of my human to non-human friendships, and the inspiration for the title today, is my friendship with dear Glen. You know when you get an icy build up in the freezer that really needs defrosting? THAT’S GLEN!! I’ve let Glen grow to the point where it’s like he’s his own man now. I can’t even freeze food anymore, cuz it’s like I’m shoving things in Glen’s face! (Also, nothing will fit!) Now that he’s Glen, I just can’t bring myself to defrost him. I’m excited to see what kind of a Glen he’ll grow into. How long will our journey together last? If I sculpt a face into the ice, will it age over time? There’s so much more that I want to experience with Glen. I’m just not ready to let him go. If I did, could I live with the guilt? I’m not so sure.

I know it must sound strange, the way I speak of Glen, so I’ll simply leave you with this link…

I ❤ Glen

(Replace Ben with Glen and it totally works. Also Glen is not always running here and there.)

4 thoughts on “Glen

  1. Celia, I have to tell you I found this absolutely hysterical – your stream of consciousness writing kept me reading and bouncing along from one thought to the next wondering what would be coming my way around the next corner!

    I talk to my plants ( but haven’t named them, yet – I must do this as I don’t have a pet, yet!). And I love the fact that you named the frosty freezer. So much more inventive and productive than actually defrosting the thing. I think I must name mine Brrice (brr + ice). Thank you for the suggestion! 😀

  2. Brrr-ice might be the best thing I’ve ever heard!!! Much better name than Glen! Hehe. Thank you for reading my silly post. And YES do name your plants. They’ll do better for it. Hehee

  3. We have named our plants; and when I am watering them I might have a word in their not-shell-like. I have no problems abusing them with words like ‘lazy’ if they aren’t performing. At the moment my old sage plant, Simon, recent nick name ‘Simon 2 leaves’; knows his days are numbered, when I plonked new Simon, flourishing with many leaves as big as my hand, next to him on the balcony. Simon was warned, now his days are numbered.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s