As usual, because it’s Friday, I’m thinking about the fact that it’s Friday. Obviously, this is a Friday I work. Okay, it might not be obvious to anyone who’s not directly watching me type this right now, but birds of a feather must paint together. I don’t remember what I was talking about and I’m too lazy to look back on the sentences I’ve already typed so I’ll make up the topic right now – water.
I like to swim, I like to drink water, and I like water’s ability to (with soap) keep me clean. I don’t, however, like water on my hands. I can handle dirt on my hands (mostly), but I do wash the dirt off with soap and water, and I dry my hands well afterward. Even when I accidentally put my hands in some kind of liquid, I usually immediately wash and dry them off. My dad always encouraged my sister and me to “play with our food” by doing such things as picking up our Jell-O with our hands and squishing it through our fingers. I didn’t much care for this process. I would usually stand with my hands in the air, waiting for someone to clean me up. After I matured (at age 20), I would get something to wash my hands myself. I guess it’s a form of an obsessive-compulsive disorder, but it’s a minor one.
My first experience with an obsessive-compulsive disorder was in grade school. One kid I knew (I think his name was P.J. – yes, that’s what we were forced to call him [more on that in another paper]) said he had to wash his hands all the time to feel comfortable. Of course, I told him, “Oh, you must have obsessive-compulsive disorder because you are precisely manifesting those symptoms. (I didn’t have many friends growing up.) Later, I read Howard Stern’s book in which he claims to suffer from OCD. I say “claims” because I believe only half of what comes out of Howard Stern’s mouth. The other half I just completely ignore. He said he had a routine he had to do every day. I don’t know what he thought would happen if he didn’t do the routine, but I assume (of course, making an ass out of you and me) nothing would really happen.
I call OCD the rich person’s disease. The only people I have seen claiming to have OCD are people with time on their hands, have little real worries in life (like being able to eat tomorrow), and are obsessed with germs. If there were a scientific description of a rich person, this would be it. You may say to yourself, “I’m not rich, but I hate germs, have to touch the doorknob 20 times every time I go through it, and I wash my hands even if I think about touching something.” You may not be rich with wealth, but you’re rich with time if you can do all these things throughout your day. A poor person doesn’t have the time to worry about these things because they’re too busy just trying to make it through life. I’m still struggling through life financially, so I don’t have full-fledged OCD right now. Hopefully, when I’m rich, I’ll have a major case of OCD. I can only dream.
The preceding thoughts were brought to you by BPK productions, Inc.
Okay, here’s the deal. I thought I was done, but I was wrong. I have another thought.
Someone Else: Okay, well, in that case, come out with it.
Me: Okay, I will.
I was thinking about the English language and English skills. I have some English skills, but I’m far from perfect (as is probably clear by this paper so far). When I was a child, I did very little reading. I didn’t like to read. Whenever there was a book report to be done, I would skim the book and get a general idea about what it was about and explore a specific tangent in the book that didn’t require actually reading the book. My essay skills and imagination got me by. It was a disservice to me. Later, in High School, I began getting recognition for the essays I wrote and would actually read more. I also wrote a series of papers not for academic purposes exploring language, societal norms, and sex (okay, they were mostly about sex and being gross, but you know the age – we’re all obsessed by gross sex). When I was deciding in college what would be my major, I decided choosing English Composition would push me to improving and maintaining my English skills. Mostly, I was right. I couldn’t play my grade school trick in college. I had to actually read the material (sometimes twice). I improved my English skills, but I still find myself not writing or reading enough. Now, my goal in life is to become an animator and own my own animation studio someday. I can definitely use my English skills in animation, but (just as my current job exists without rhyme or reason) they are not a true requirement. What I’m saying is, “Be all you can be because you may not be tomorrow.”
I’m probably wrong, but I think that is my last thought for today.
Yeah, I’m right. Goodbye.
Thoughts from Life 
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