Sometimes I’m more interested in people than I should be…

And it’s not Facebook creeping, by the way. I just find some people interesting for some reason. And it’s not bad if you don’t find everyone interesting; because I don’t find every single person I meet to be extraordinary. And I feel like it’ll sound worst and worst if I keep trying to explain it, so I’ll move on.

There isn’t a way for me to explain what I find interesting. It just happens, almost in the same way hipsters do what they do, whatever it is that they do. (I kid, hipsters. I love you.)

Now I’m at the point where I have to ask myself what exact things I find intriguing. Then I have to ask if that intriguing thing is actually interesting or even relevant. And the end of the day, I don’t have a reason to ask myself these questions as if answering them will eliminate them from my mind because I remember the ideas, questions, justifications, and answers for some strange reason. We don’t remember that 2+2=5 even though the idea is wrong, will just remember that any answer other than 4 is wrong.

If that makes any sense then my example is just. If that doesn’t make sense my example is still just. Don’t argue with it, it makes sense to me.

An example is a classmate of mine that I find interesting for an unknown reason. He sits 4:30-ish from me and we also take the bus in the same direction so we generally find ourselves talking in interesting conversations that I usually start. Well on Thursday (yesterday?) I was talking to him about the class when there was a ruckus of honking as a silver car crazily was jumping from the leftmost lane three lanes over to the right.

As the car was shifting lanes, I recognized my older sister riding shotgun, my teen nephew in the backseat, and the silver car as my younger sister’s car. Given my younger sister’s sassing half a week before, my younger sister wasn’t talking to me; she would have just driven past me had my older sister not been in the car. I processed what was happening and my classmate pointed out that I should go considering my sister almost caused about ten accidents to get to the curb right before a bridge.

But now I felt bad because he didn’t get a ride with us, even though my younger sister wouldn’t have felt dropping him off even if we didn’t have to leave the main road or stray away from our destination path. I feel even worst because I looked back, called to him, and stood there awkwardly for about two seconds while I realized that there was no room in the car for anyone else once I got in, so I said I’ll see him Tuesday.

So now I’m weirder than I already am, feel worst about it now than I did if I hadn’t looked back, and can also qualify as socially awkward.

And now as I reread this, I feel like I’ve trailed away from my original topic. Fuck.

Valentine’s Day is like a bottle of Valentina.

Now I’m not one that knocks on holidays but… Actually, who am I kidding? I always make fun of holidays and pseudo-holidays, but usually in good stride and mostly in ways that are tongue-in-cheek.

And I’m definitely not one to go around knocking on holidays by comparing them to badass hot sauce, but I have a nice little simile going on here. Hot sauce, like Valentine’s Day, requires tolerance. Valentine’s Day, like hot sauce, also requires tolerance.

Even three weeks later I’m still on the idea of Valentine’s Day. It bothers me. That’s right, I went there, Mico is BOTHERED (Late Night with Jimmy Fallon reference). I live in a neighborhood where I get bombarded with people crossing my path just to block me from walking and trying to sell me buckets of roses, oversized teddy bears, and balloons that will deflate by the end of the week. When I say no, I walk a block and it happens again. And again. Then it gets to the point where I’ll willing take the CTA that I dislike ever so much.

What’s worse is that as a Midwesterner I have to deal with Sweetest Day as well. That’s not until October, but God do I loathe that day. It’s just Valentine’s Day in October with people doing all the stuff I just mentioned up above but to a lesser extent.

You know what I want twice a year? Shamrock shakes. Not going to happen, sadly. Now it is time to get a new iPod and my running shoes ready so I can jog past people in a few months.