Strange Thoughts on a Cold Winter’s Night

I’m sitting at my desk in mid-December in a cold room.  The chill opens my mind to random, peculiar thoughts and memories.

In no particular order:

Until I was in my thirties, I would never leave the room when I was involved in a pleasant conversation.  I was afraid that if I left even for a minute the heart-to-heart would end and a precious connection lost.  Of course, after many such conversations I had to quickly rush to the bathroom.

I thought that no woman liked sex.  I may have been wrong about that.

In my twenties, my wife would sometimes rub the back of my neck while I was driving.  I loved this but thought that if I moved my head she would stop.  I wanted her to continue, so I kept my head fixed in one place, darting my eyes left or right as I drove without turning my head. I never thought to say, “I really like your rubbing my neck, but I’m afraid that if I move my head you’ll stop.”

I was a high school debater and I honestly thought I should have won every debate. In college I became more realistic. There was one debate that I deserved to lose.  My opponent was Lawrence Tribe, now a professor at Harvard Law School and probably the top Constitutional Law expert in the United States.

Come to think of it, I still think I should have won every debate in high school.

When I was sixteen and the proud owner of a new driving permit I borrowed my mother’s car, without permission, to drive to the beach with friends.  When we returned I parked the car on the street in front of our house, ten or twenty feet in front of where it was when I took it.  I thought no one would notice. My dad confiscated my driving permit for six months.

When I graduated from law school I thought that every judge would hear the facts, apply the law, and reach the same conclusion.  That was a whopper.

I believed the first woman who expressed an interest in me was the only one in the world who ever would.  My first wife and I dated for five years and were married for ten.  I lived for three years with the next woman who expressed an immediate interest in me.  I married the third.

I used to believe I could accomplish anything.  I still do, but only part of the time.

I believe I’m an alien.

I don’t think that’s a whopper.

I expect to be idyllically happy every minute of my life.  Maybe just not right now.

When we disagree who do you think I think is right?  You’re right.

I think I should turn on the heat, which is off for the night.

I won’t.

My favorite words when I was two were, “No I not.”  Now my favorite word is “yes,” but in back of that I sometimes still think, “No I not.”

If I speak English loudly enough every person in the world will understand me.

I used to think that if I hurt badly enough for long enough you would give me what I wanted.

I think my editor will suggest I not publish these strange and random thoughts.

Good night soon.

Good night room.

Good night cow jumping over the moon.

Alan