“Shanna? Shanna! I’m talking to you! Hello!?”
I look up, my eyes are questioning and I look slightly confused. “What?”
“Shanna, did you not hear me this whole time? Where did your brain go just now?”
That’s a fairly common occurence in my life. I don’t know how to explain it, but I just let my mind wander in almost every activity I do. The only exception to the rule is when I’m cooking, especially when I’m using a knife. The brain is right there making sure I don’t cut myself too badly.
It’s sad, and yet funny to me. I try to have meaningful conversations with others, but I just can’t. I find people (most) boring, and so my mind wanders off. I can hear the other person talking, my head nodding randomly to their conversation, but I haven’t the slightest idea about what the hell they’re saying. Because I’m thinking about what I want to bake, or create in the kitchen, or that song I really like.
All of a sudden I realize I just got asked a question. Oh shit.
What do I do now? Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
I shrug. Make some mumbled, grunting, distressed noises because that always kind of makes the other person uncomfortable enough to not ask the question again, but rather form the question into a statement to try to engage me in another way. It’s like the Cliff Notes version for the conversation. Works every time. I then form some kind of opinion, and then drift back into happy Shanna land.
I don’t know what it is about me, but I’ve done this as long as I can remember. School, church, conversations, and even work. It’s like this power that comes over me that I just gave up trying to ever stop. I like it too much to ever stop.
I was getting a massage once. I was letting my mind wander and was thinking about different things from shit I needed to get done around the house to bills I needed to get paid, to cooking. Apparently, one of those thoughts struck a chord with me rather poignantly. In the middle of the serene, soothing session that I forgot I was in, I sat up abruptly and shouted, “I fucking need that shit!”
I scared the hell out of my masseuse. I never went back. After they see you half-naked, sitting up yelling that out loud, let’s just say neither party really feels comfortable in the whole experience. I think I scarred her for life.
That’s not the first time I blurted out in my times of zoning out. I’ve done it in school. Got me sent to the office several times. Caught myself before it happened in church. That’s a good thing. I’m not wanting to think about the repercussions that would have happened if I would have disrupted that massive train wreck.
I’m a weird bird. But, the good news is I’m usually just being creative in my head; thinking up food to make. New ways to make old dishes. Or a dessert to try. It’s almost always food based zone outs. They are my favorites. Other times I’m just singing in my head the music of my past and present favorites. What matters is that it makes me happy. All of it.