It’s pretty well established that I don’t like things that go up and down or round and round. Rollercoasters: tried them, don’t like them. Too much like life. That said, I can be talked into going on one occasionally, but I won’t go on any high-tech coaster. Life is filled with enough adrenaline; I don’t need any more and quite frankly, it doesn’t give me a high anyway.
Nope, I will still go on wooden rollercoasters from time to time. I will finally indulge my friends on the 20th request to go, largely to shut them up since I don’t want to explain for the umpteenth time why I don’t like them.
I wish I could say the same about carousels. I don’t really care for them either, but I seem to be ready to go on unexpected rides at almost every turn.
Recently, I have been stuck on a particular carousel. I’m not going to really bore you with the particulars, largely because the event is insignificant. But, as it seems to be in my life, that one thing is all it takes for me to go for a little ride, jumping on my ever-ready high horse.
I don’t really know why this happens, but this looping over the stupidest of things is one of the most vexing issues I have in life. Nearly anything can set it off and once I hop on the carousel it’s tough to get me off of it.
This has made more than one of my friends or significant others crazy. For a moment I would state my case perfectly, then I would let it go. Momentarily. Soon I would be back right where I started and the whole thing starts all over. Up and down, round and round on the same subject.
If we’re all lucky, this may go on for minutes. It has easily gone for hours and often days. Before I took the happy pills many years ago, it went on for months, even years. I don’t take the happy pills anymore – some say I should – but even so, my brain has been rewired a bit so that I eventually get off the carousel.
The worst ride happens when I finally get off the damned thing and then someone hands me another to ride. Back I go. I’m on a different horse, granted, but it’s still the carousel.
When it was really bad I would worry about my car breaking. Nothing was wrong with the car, mind you; in fact, it had just gotten a clean bill of health from the mechanic. Still I’d fret and foment for hours, days and weeks on end. I did the same with my teeth, convinced that they were starting to fall out. I still think I’m right on this from time to time, but my dentist just laughs at me. I tend to think he’s laughing all the way to the bank, though, because he knows the truth. I can see those dollar signs in his eyes every time he looks into my mouth.
At times there may even be a shred of truth in the thing that triggers my ride – the ticket that puts me on the horse.
More often than not, though, it’s totally bogus, a manifestation of my own overly creative mind. If everything is swimmingly good in life, I just know that there’s an undertow somewhere out there ready to pull me down.
The good news is that there usually isn’t. The carousel ride may even be innocuous. Remember how some of the horses on carousels don’t go up and down. I could be on one of those pretty horses instead from time to time. I may even sit on the carved seat for a bit, content to just go around in circles without saying a word.
But more often than not, I would get a real wild one. It would gyrate up and down in the craziest fashion, and on occasion, go full Mary Poppins as the damned horse skips off in the chalk drawing of fantasy and takes me places no one wants to go.
Thank god for that rewiring job I received. Those days are long past. Instead, I spend my time on carousels with a very tight turning radius. I don’t stray far from the one issue I am obsessing about.
That’s both good and bad. On the good side, I don’t drive anyone too crazy with a Cinescope view of a particular problem, bringing in all sorts of possibilities, intrigue and characters that you wouldn’t see on a normal screen. On the down side, the going round and round and up and down can become extremely repetitive and worse, maddening.
I suppose I could return to the happy pills and fix this. But that flatline personality I had back then wasn’t very fun. I was just sitting on the bench going nowhere fast and there was absolutely no zip or zing in my life. I could even go on the craziest of rollercoaster rides on the happy pills and feel absolutely nothing.
That’s no way to live. I like the ups and downs of life these days, and I’m happy to say that I don’t soar and dive like I used to. I just loop on occasion, going nowhere fast, all the time trying to figure out how to get off the damned high horse I’m on.
I’m glad Kat is so patient about these rides I take. She does wish I would get off the carousel a bit sooner, but at least she has taken away some of the additional horses I could get on in the meantime. But, if you ever see her pretending to haul in the reins of a pretend horse, don’t think for a moment that she’s going for a ride with me. Instead, she’s giving me a visual reminder that I’ve jumped on my high horse again and I’m not going anywhere interesting or new.
In the Emerald City, right as reins,
– Robb