At 6's And 7's

    Working in an advertising agency can be fun.  In a session where we brainstorm ideas, we make thousands of connections in minutes to come up with something that works for the need at hand: an image, a name, color combinations or more entire concepts for what goes into a mailer, an ad or broadcast spot.  Entire campaigns can take whole days at a time.  Some sessions can be like P90X for the brain. 
    During a recent session, in making a connection between the number 6 and the number 7, I threw out "at 6's and 7's" without remembering what it meant.  Did it sound familiar in relation to gambling? Was it negative?  I asked what "at 6's and 7's" meant?  Someone said "crazy, confused."  Well, maybe that's why it was so familiar. 
    Intuitiveness is my strength.  Compartmentalizing is my game.  I missed the mark on both counts this past month and it had me at 6's and 7's to my core.  Working out a misunderstanding led to a disturbing realization.
Deciding what to do about it is equally difficult because decision making is my weakness.  My fallback is ignoring the problem like I do so many times.  Tuck it away in a compartment and write about it, laugh about it in a few years. 
   But, that is at odds with a personal goal:  be myself, be real.  I envy others without guards, without governors on their brains.  If what others think of me doesn't matter, why do I guard myself?  Mostly, I think to make sure I understand myself.  I have always been different from my peers and it took a long time into adulthood to accept it.  Mostly, the difference between myself and other females has always stood out for me, beginning with my mom and my sister.  As much as I enjoyed being in their company, shopping with the girls was painful for me.  A book and a swing in the hammock always seemed to torturously call my name when I had to do my duty.  I had fun talking to the guys about politics or sports but never the girls about hair and clothes.  This remains with me still.  Forcing myself to connect with women over ridiculous conversations about shoes and babies continually makes me wonder what is wrong with me.  I have accepted that I am different, but I wonder why all the time.
  Should I be out shopping for a pretty Spring dress instead?  What does it matter?  Can I evolve not to be at 6's and 7's with what I've been told is natural and normal?  Is that what has confused me?  Finally, for once, I know what it feels like to be normal?  Give me back odd and different, please!