Oh, waiting rooms

Oh, waiting rooms.

As if my eye infection isn't enough.

There are some scenarios in which I don't wish to socialize. If I'm at a sporting event, a show-movie, music, theater-a bar, etc. I don't mind or would even say I invite conversation with random people that have similar interests. However, while I'm sitting in a waiting room of a Pharmacy at a Doctor's office where privacy is afforded and even encouraged, I really don't want to talk to you.

Usually I ward off unwanted conversation by reading whatever book I am carrying around with me. Unfortunately, on many levels, my current ailment is with my eye and I was unable to partake in my beloved hobby. I guess this made me a free agent for conversation to other people plagued by their health.

As I am diverting my eyes to the reader board hoping that my name will appear, I hear an inaudible but noticeable mumble from the lady at my 9 o'clock. I look up and she is looking at me (I think...like I said, my eye is F'd at this point) so as not to be rude I say, "I'm sorry?" That was all she needed.

"These prescriptions. I'm waiting for Percocet since I'm having all my bottom teeth pulled today, well, except for 3 of them that are staying. I already took a leftover Percocet this morning to prepare."

I return a polite smile hoping that my own pearly whites will never have to be pulled in their entireity. I avert my eyes. Nope, not enough Teela.

"I went to visit my friend in Yuma and hopped on down to Mexico and loaded up on Omoxycillin. A lot of my friends don't have healthcare so if they need it, I'll have it for them. Prices are outrageous in this country!"

A confused and involuntary head nod came from yours truly and I don't say anything as I don't want to encourage any further elaboration from this woman who doesn't know what boundaries are.

"When I was 19, I had radiation, probably up until I was 24 or 25. Had to have all of my upper teeth pulled and replaced with dentures." At this point, she opens her mouth and slides what appear to be her unwashed fingers along her upper teeth. As if the words alone would not suffice.

"Couldn't do the bottom then, so here I am." Yes, that you are...and I am so fortunate to have been here at the same time on the same day. She pauses and then to no one in particular shouts, "Come on guys! You can do better than this!" She turns back to me. "They're usually so quick here."

Finally after about 5 more minutes on would-be-toothless-thank-you-dentures woman's medical history, her name appeared. I kindly told her good luck on her teeth pulling and was relieved. Freed.

Or so I thought.

I took out the good ole Droid to Google this eye condition the doctor had just diagnosed me with. Yes, I was willing to risk the health of my eye looking onto this small screen to avoid anymore conversations with strangers.

"Are you texting?" A guy had sat down in the general area of where dentures previously sat.

"Umm, no..I'm researching." Since when is it okay to ask a perfect stranger what they are doing with their own property?!?

"Ahh, I thought you were texting." He continued. "It's so bad. This woman was texting and driving on my way over here. Line of 20 cars behind her going 35 in a 45!"

"Yeah." I agreed. Wait, was I hallucinating this Pharmacy scenario around me and I was actually driving which is why this man felt the need to bring this to my attention? It's the only possible explanation.

"My wife is the worst driver. The one good thing about her driving is that it made me closer to God."

I snickered as I thought he was joking. He wasn't. I uncomfortably shifted back to serious face and he continued his story about his first date to a gymnastics meet with his wife. She was the stat keeper and apparently she drove. I faded in and out of listening and thankfully my name popped up and gave me an out.

I realize this makes me sound snobby and anti-social, but I'm not. I just believe there is a thing called oversharing and I was a victim of its consequences today. So next time you find yourself in a waiting room and you feel it's necessary to share with your present company your medical conditions/history or opinions on activities you see them engaging in, ask yourself the following questions. It could save you from being the subject of a blog.

1. Do I know you well enough to share this information?

2. Will this make you feel awkward?

3. Is it really the best time and place to share this information?

Making the world less awkward, one blog at a time.

Reflections on Inception.

Christopher Nolan knows me. Perhaps we met in a dream.

Not only did he put my boyfriend who just doesn't know it yet, Joseph Gordon-Levitt (or as he likes to be called, "Joe") in the suits and vests that I adore him in most, but he threw in my old classic love of Leo who only seems to become more handsome with age. In the unfortunate event that you've been asleep within your own dreams for the past month or so, I'm referring to the film 'Inception.'

Although an insomniac, when I do dream I have what most of my friends consider to be deranged dreams. To me, they've become normal. You know, the typical scenario of being chased by a family member who is shooting at you while you attempt to flee by scaling barbed wire fences, that sort of thing. Then I bleed for what seems to be forever but don't seem to die when I've lost a lot of blood. When it feels like I am losing breath and will cease to dream exist, I startle back to reality.

There it is. My peaceful room: The bookshelf overflowing with stories begging to be read, the humming of my fan that I find necessary to sleep to during the summer, and my all too comfortable bed that I could literally live in if I had the assistance of something not as gross as a bed pan to deal with that waste thing and an attractive butler to wait on all other needs.

It was just a dream.

I roll over, shut my eyes and await the next ludicrous story that awaits to meet me in my subconscious.

Now with all that insanity that stirs through my mind while I'm asleep, I have equally random thoughts when I'm functioning about the masses. Not on the level of the previous example of course or you may want to check me into a mental facility ASAP (I'd prefer the lavish one where all those stars with "addictions" go), but I think...A LOT. About life. About the what ifs. Things that I have found through conversations aren't so typical to think about while picking up your dry cleaning.

Warning: Semi-spoiler alert for those who haven't seen the movie:

When you break down the central plotline of Nolan's, it's DiCaprio trying to reach his dream...to get home. His "real" home. But the end may have you guessing, is it in fact real? No, I'm not going to stop there because this begs the question, what is real for us? Yes we have a collective reality that can be proved through facts and general observations about how the weather is or isn't behaving, but we also have individual realities. For instance, I have a habit of ignoring things or diminishing their impact until someone else confirms its occurrence. The morning of 9-11 was a clear example of this. I didn't believe it was happening even while watching live footage, because this wasn't possible...until my mom walked in and acknowledged its reality. No she wasn't chasing me and she really is a lovely woman. My dreams don't do her justice.

In opposition, some things that I may witness with other people I feel much more attached to, moved by and contemplative over because for some reason, it resonates with my reality. Just because it exists in me and not in others doesn't make it unreal, or in other words-a dream. Perhaps, this entire "Inception" contemplation is one of those things.

Usually I loathe unfinished endings that make the viewer do work in order to reach a conclusion. My reaction is usually along the lines of, "I believe I paid you to see this movie therefore I shouldn't be responsible for producing the beginning, middle, or end of it." However, given the blurry nature of the lack of lines created between dream and reality, the film's end was perfect.

Bravo, Nolan. Bravo.