Listening To Train In Vain (Live) by The Clash

I have listened to approximately 3900 of the 4,120 songs on my iPod. This is the most borderline OCD thing I have ever done. Well ... actually not true. Apparently, most people have some low level Obsessive Compulsive disorder. Do you know what I do? I count syllables on my fingers. Silently, during conversations. I assume that there are three sides to the tips of your fingers - the nail, the top, and the pad. And so a perfect sentence, song lyric, or response to a question will be exactly 15 syllables long. That way it fits perfectly on the tips of your fingertips. I don't know why I do this. And it's not all the time. Sometimes I do it with my two front teeth. I try not to do the teeth thing at work because I tend to be pretty high energy and chipper anyway that I don't need people assuming that I am on any Columbian stimulants. Which, if you know most of the staff where I work, is not a very big leap.
I have been dealing with personal boundaries in my life a lot lately. Trying to puzzle out what I feel belongs to me and only me, what I feel like I can burden people with, who I tell things to, and whether or not what I have to say is truly worth telling. My roommate and I can talk about boys and girls and relationships all day and all night and never get sick of it. We always hash and re-hash what happens with our romantic interests, talk about our ideal relationships, and wonder at our loneliness from afar like two Japanese tourists staring down a Polar Bear. But she doesn't talk to me about her Father. Which I know for a fact tremendously bothers her. Sometimes it's like an 800 pound gorilla sitting in the corner, eating all the crudite and double dipping. I don't know what it is with all the zoological references. But I don't push her on it.
Whenever I get pushed about what happened between me and a past girlfriend, how it ended, etc. I never offer up many details. I always try to neatly and cleanly nutshell it out of respect for the woman and my relationship. I just have always been that way. There is honestly only one person that I spill every detail to, and it's the same person that I have been spilling details to since I was 15 years old - my best friend Steve. Jesus. Has it been 13 years? My god. Where does it go? Anyway, if my Ma presses me I will tell her. Oh , and sometimes I talk to my Grandmother about it - but mostly in sweeping generalizations. SO when I get asked about my personal relationships I just feel ... I don't know .. awkward. Especially if it is with another woman that I like. Because no guy wants to seem like a dick for breaking up with a woman or a reject for being dumped. And what happened between you and another person is truly nobody's business except your own.
It's raining outside now and I would be a liar if I told you that I wanted to go to work. I am hoping that these projected thunderstorms continue through the night and I am granted tonight off. I hope something similar happens to you too today as you read this. That some strange occurrence helps make your day a little bit nicer and bearable.