There is a part of me that's oblivious. People always ask me, 'What obstacles have you faced?' and I always think, 'What are you talking about?' Whether or not there were obstacles, I never saw obstacles. It's never occurred to me that I wasn't good enough for something.

It's not that I lead this oblivious life where I think I've got such a great personality that people want to spend time with me. If someone has a poster of you or asks for your autograph, clearly you can't take them out on a date. It's not that interesting if someone is just interested in you.

While we women dilly-dally, making decisions, leaving jobs half done, forgetting where we've put the house keys while we water the Hoover and leave the laundry in the dishwasher, men, like blinkered horses, look straight ahead, oblivious to peripheral vision, where a discarded pile of wet towels might have caught their eye.

Unless taught otherwise, children are the most selfish, oblivious little Philistines on the planet. They have no family, no job, no responsibilities, and nothing but time to think about their gluttonous, sticky selves. We should be teaching them to take some focus off of themselves and onto how they can best serve/treat others.

If a magazine proudly labels itself 'The Economist,' you would expect that publication to understand the economic burdens of today's youth. But when a tone-deaf writer at the magazine tweets an article asking 'Why aren't millennials buying diamonds,' it pretty much sums up how oblivious some can be in matters they're supposed to be experts in.

I can walk down the street, and 85 percent of the people on the block are really quite oblivious to me. They either think I'm probably an actor or else I installed their storm windows two years ago, or I work at their bank, or maybe I'm their cousin Marie's gynecologist. Then, to the other 15 percent of those people on the street, I'm a rock star.

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