Talking in Parenthesis

I want to feel normal, and I don't. Of course that begs the question what is normal. I don't know really what it is but I am pretty sure I am not. I am not sleeping again and I don't know why,. Actually that isn't true, I know why sort of. I just can't shut off my head. And it isn't earth shattering things that are running through my head. Not like it is bills or something like that, it is stupid stuff, like what flavor cookies to bake for the Halloween party, with project to stitch next, imaginary conversations with people (you know things you wish you had said) that type of thing. I even sometimes talk to the cats, who think I am nuts, I am, depending on how you look at it, blessed or cursed with a husband who falls asleep about 10 seconds after his head hits the pillow. I envy that most days. I literally have to be exhausted before I can sleep, so I watch a lot of TV, not that I have a lot of choice at that hour or I listen to talk radio. I seem to fall asleep better with talk than music. The music tends to make me think, like the song is the trunk of a tree and the thoughts branch out from there. I think that is why I try and do more that one thing at a time. Like I never watch TV without either reading, stitching, or doing a puzzle. There are a few times when I really concentrate. Like watching movies, I tend to lose myself in a good movie. Same with a book. I feel like the story, whether a book or movie, is a success if even days afterward I am thinking about what the characters are doing. Almost like they were friends, I guess that is why it bothers me when my favorite characters die. And that is both the writing and the acting.
But back to what I started with, I am pretty sure I am not normal. I guess I look normal, most people treat me normal. I don't know I can't put my finger on it but it is there a sort of nebulous feeling. I know my tastes are different than most people. I get sort of a perverse jolt out of feeling out those little get to know you questionnaires everybody passes out on the web. Well that is until somebody makes a comment on one of my answers. I don't comment on your white bread type favorite musicians or actors so don't call mine weird, odd and creepy. Why when you are a little different do people feel like they can comment on things that normally you are too polite to say? Because I have a big family I get some of the most outrageous question in the line at the supermarket, from Are they all yours? (no, I picked up some in the parking lot), to how much you spend on food? (why, are you offering to help?) to the more personal, do you have a TV? (oh hahaha), or haven't you guys figured out what causes that? (I haven't figured out a snappy comeback t that one yet that does sound dumb, any idea?) or my favorite, are you going to have anymore ( jeez if I thought you needed to know I would have included you on the newsletter). Good grief that was long sentence, my comp teach would be horrified.
Well I got off subject yet again. I guess my point was I just don't feel normal.