We're All Just a Little Crazy

So I was having a conversation with my sister in the car while we’re driving home from work, and somehow inadvertently I likened the both of us to tumors. We have these random discussions lately, about still being single at this age and about finding the right man for us. Let’s face it; we’re not growing any younger. If anything, the clock is ticking to our thirtieth birthday – where I would disintegrate into desperation first. We have already decided, once I turn thirty and if I’m still single, we’d head out to the bars and find a guy – where my sis will be my wing man, or in this case, wing girl – or I’d sign up for some cheesy date site and seriously find a guy. Honestly, I’m not even looking right now.


That being said, we discussed about the traits of guys that we’d want to end up with. I know checklists should not be made, as they tend to end up in disappointment, so we’ve actually thrown away out mental checklist. Right now, we are resigned to the fact; as long as the guy can accept our crazy then he’s a keeper.

I’ve realized lately that I tend to push guys away. There’s a wall there, but trust me, it’s slowly crumbling down. My sis is not so different from me. Besides that, I’m a hundred different kinds of crazy. Everyone has their crazy side – mine being my ego, my stubbornness, my arrogance, my inability to be loving, my sarcasm, my temper, my lack of flirting genes, my mild OCD and well, the list is as long as the Nile – but somehow it is hidden when you’re being courted by a guy.

I realized that I show my crazy as soon as a guy shows interest, and face it, who would want to deal with that? Most guys want girls to be all sweet and demure and well, just girls, but I somehow lack some feminity (is this even a right word?). Not all, just some. I’ve had tons of people telling me to behave more like a girl and stuff, but honestly by doing that, I’m exactly the clone of every other species of the female in this world. I pride myself in being different, not an eccentric or a freak, but I value my individuality. I don’t run with the crowd and I have my opinion on things that sometimes are not agreeable to others.

I will not be a robot and be someone I’m not just because I want a guy to fancy me. If at all, there’s a guy who actually could accept me for who I am – then he’s the keeper. If he thinks that I’m clay to be molded in his way, well, he’s seriously barking up the wrong tree. I realize that to compete with my crazy, I don’t need Mr. Perfect or Mr. Right – I need Mr. Crazy-Who-Complements-My-Crazy. If he’s perfect, he’s just not right as I am not perfect. If he’s Right – he may be wrong for me. But if he has Crazy that I can handle, and if he can handle my Crazy – then I don’t see any problems with us in joining our crazy heads and building a crazy life and having tiny little baby crazy crawling around.

So, back to the tumor conversation with my sister, I told her that my crazy would be known as soon as I get comfortable with someone and if they can endure that, then they are welcome to step into my land of Bleeding Rainbows and Killer Unicorns. If they can get past the first level of crazy and battle the rest, they are the right crazy (or Crazy Slayer). My sister on the other hand doesn’t show her crazy until too late – and the guy will have no chance of backing out as he’s in too deep (not literally).

So that’s how I said that she’s like a benign tumor while I’m a malignant tumor. My crazy is revealed in the first stage itself and it takes crafted hands to remove it and remove it and keep on removing it until the tumor is cleared, or just to live with it. My sis on the other hand (Yes, she let me post this about her – believe me, I had to ask) is a tumor that you’d never realize until it reaches stage three and then it’s just too late.

I’m not saying it to make a farce out of cancer or anything. It’s just that our crazy is relatable to cancer – its incurable – and those who face it; God bless your soul.

So, in conclusion, my sis and I are reduced to nothing more than a tumor. I might have other things to relate us too, but for now its tumor. It could be butterflies next or even shoes – it just goes to show that my imagination runs wild and makes me think of things that don’t even make sense – but you know, it actually does… a little.

Ranting - Not spesific to anyone

You say that all the girls you've ever dated were psychos, clingy, materialistic minded, selfish and all things that you find you're tired of. Well, did you try opening your mind (and eyes) to see those who are actually good and would treat you well? Of course you didn't. Why? Because she's not thin enough, not pretty enough, not sexy enough, not stimulating enough, not hot enough, not enough to make you want her. What you didn't know is, if you actually widened your horizon, you might find that she's the one for you. She will not cling on to you and turn into a psycho. She will stand all your bad habits because she loves you regardless. She will be there for you when you're down - not run away at the slightest sign of distress. She will be your support, not your weight. She will go all out for you. And it's not because you're devastatingly good looking, or smart, or rich or anything. It's because she sees something in you that makes her heart race, that smile you give, that look you share, that heart inside of you. She doesn't want a saviour - she wants to be your saviour. Don't narrow your mindset and find rainbow coloured stones. If you picked up that jagged rock and shine it, you will see that it's more beautiful that the rainbow which is only temporary after a rain.