Tuesday, September 06, 2005

How the Insane Came to Be

When I first met Crazy Angie, she was what most would define as perfectly sane. I can’t say for myself because I didn’t know her very well. We were merely aquaintences—I knew her name and she knew mine. We had a class together in high school—creative writing. Sometime during our freshman year, she stopped coming to class. I noticed her so little, that it barely disturbed me that she wasn’t there. It was when she came back that I began to see the true nature of she who is now my dearest friend.
Many who knew her after her return would insist that something must have happened to drive her insane. I am quite sure they are correct. Whatever it was, Angie was much more enjoyable and highly amusing. It was then that we became friends. Of course we had class together, but eventually we took it to an after school level.
I don’t know what happened to her during those months she was gone and I don’t care to ask. I only like the way she is now and appreciate her insanity as a very original sense of humor.
Angie has several strange quirks. The simplest of tasks can elude her completely. Take the phone for example. She has never been able to dial a phone as long as I’ve known her. She understands that when it rings she is supposed to pick it up, but as for actually placing a call, she is unable. She has never called me in all the years I’ve known her. We’ve worked around this with no trouble at all by simply spending all of our free time together.
We do everything together. We go to the same school, we have a few of the same classes, we live in the same general neighborhood—it’s easy to fill what other time we have doing the same things. We enjoy each other’s company very much. I think we off set each other. She’s crazy; I’m not. She’s irrational; I’m not. She’s short; I’m tall. She’s chubby; I’m thin. We’re perfect opposites and we fit each other very well. It always works out nicely until we get into an argument.
The last time Angie and I fought was over the time of day. Her watch had stopped unbeknownst to her. All day long she was convinced that we were stuck in some sort of time continuum. It was 2:30 in the morning all day. I tried explaining the functions of watch batteries to her but she insisted that her watch had run just fine for the past five years. Why should it suddenly malfunction now?
Seeing that I was getting nowhere on the battery logic, I presented her with a question.
“Ok, if we’re stuck at 2:30am, why are all the other clocks working just fine?”
“It must be some kind of illusion. Or maybe that battery thing you were talking about. All these other clocks have batteries, which prevent them from being effected by the time continuum. My watch must be superior!” I found this unlikely given that Angie’s watch had the face of Marvin the Martian that had to be flipped up in order to display the time. I have been unable to convince her and she still insists that time is standing still. What can I say? She loves that watch. Every now and then she ends up late for class or misses her favorite TV show because she gets confused about the time, insisting that it’s really 2:30 in the morning and time is just standing still, so how can she possibly be trusted to measure time with her feeble mind? I have learned to live with this and simply make sure to remind her when she needs to be punctual. It has worked quite well for us so far and I’m sure we’ll be just fine until she needs to get a job. I greatly fear that day.
My parents and family have often asked me why on Earth I would spend so much time with a girl like Angie. “Don’t you want to meet new people?” they ask. I explain to them that I really have a rare opportunity, having Angie for a friend. There is no one else in the world quite like her—at least no one living outside a padded room.
Others even suggest to her that she ought not spend so much time with me, fearing that I will take advantage of her inferior intelligence. She defends me quite well by simply stating, “Nuh uh!”
I think it’s a mistake to make an issue of her sanity. That’s simply a characteristic of Angie’s personality. True, she is usually referred to as Crazy Angie, but we see it as merely a nick-name. She pointed out a very good reason for its use. “It helps me to know when people are talking to me.” It certainly doesn’t seem to bother her and I’m rather fond of it.
Aside from Crazy Angie’s state of mind, she’s such a wonderful person. She’s creative and funny and has an incredible imagination. For those things alone, I love being in her company. She adds spark to my life and she listens when I babble on about the strange questions of life. For that I am sure we gain a mutual advantage from each other’s company. I’m quite sure that in some way, Crazy Angie and I will a lways be apart of each other, even if it means the time is always 2:30am.

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