In so very many things, I think.  But definitely on the Debate Team.  Because when it comes to arguing?  Oh, that’s Missy FTW… no matter who I’m going up against.  That is my special talent, arguing.  I glow with excitement (or maybe high blood pressure?) whenever I manage to get myself into one.  Yeah, really.  So it’s truly sad that I didn’t pursue this “talent” of mine… I could have been a Star.  With a trophy and accolades and all.

Trophies are sparkly and shiny… I need one don’t you think?  To go with my Crown?

Of course, for those two or three of you who’ve been on the losing side of one of my many Harangues – Bob, I’m looking right at you, everyone else is too – you might think I relish these opportunities to engage with verbal fisticuffs with others perhaps more than I should.

And you would be wrong.

Amazingly, my favorite opponent isn’t Bob, believe it or not.

Cue chorus of “Poor Bob”… and cut.  He appreciates your sympathy, really.

No, my best efforts happen internally, where no one can hear me, as I argue with myself.  Pssssst! Most people think that means I’m crazy.  They might be right.  But my internal debates are legendary.  The mental gymnastics I put myself through when I’m wrestling with a decision?  Mary Lou Retton was never that bendy, not at any point in her life.

Tangent – when the heck did she get so old?  Wasn’t she like thirteen or something just a couple of years ago?  Oh, right, she’s  nearly my age… and I have apparently gotten old too.  And again with the same question – second verse same as the first – when the heck did I get so old?

Okay, we’re back, did we lose anybody?  Oh no, well next time everybody needs to hold onto the rope and that way nobody gets separated.  The guy from Dubuque’ll figure it out… he usually gets lost on the Tangents.  Those aren’t good for the people in the square states.  Not at all.  But anyway, where were we?  Oh, right, the whole arguing thing and my current mental debate.

Sidenote:  I hate it when that happens.  Trains of thought are getting fewer and farther between for me, I need to stay onboard and ignore the temptation to get off and look around at every stop.  Frequently I’m finding myself standing at some random station, in the middle of nowhere, in my mind, and I don’t have any idea where I was going, what train of thought I was on, or when the next train is due.  Old age sucks, make a note and save it for me.  Because, you know, I might forget.

Anyway, after two diversions I’m going to do you all a favor and not go on a tour of my current mental debates – yes, there’s multiples going on, simultaneously, are you surprised?  No, I figured not.  But anyway, suffice to say I’m wrestling with some big ones… personal life path crap.  Stuff I should have decided long ago, when I first considered the whole “what to be when I grow up” question.  Yeah, that one.  I deferred that one, because apparently I had some crazy idea that I wasn’t grown up.  I’m still not BTW… nope, and you can’t make me.  But I’m still working the arguments on the question, even if it’s rhetorical.

Growing up, making decisions, choosing paths.  Brrrrrrr… just felt the icy finger of old age and death brush my cheek.  So, no, I’ll just keep arguing with myself and defer the decision until later.

Until I grow up.

But, then, isn’t not making a decision still making a decision?

And right on cue… it’s those stellar debating skills.  Magical I tell you.

Simply magical.

Oy.