February 8, 2023

Call Me Crazy.


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“If you behave in a manner pleasing to most, then you are probably doing something wrong. The masses have never been arbiters of the sublime, and they often fail to recognize the truly great individual. Taking into account the public’s regrettable lack of taste, it is incumbent on you to not fit in.” ~ Janeane Garofalo


I will always be a “character.”

Memorable, you might say. “Crazy” is a word non grata used to describe a person nowadays, but that word precisely comes to mind. Sometimes I’m difficult too! Moody, even. But, hey, it’s just me, being a person over here.

I often choose to disagree, which doesn’t mean I’m disagreeable. I’m that person who doesn’t nod her head and say yes to everything. I know for sure I need to work on keeping my mouth shut. To think before I speak. Listen more. Digest before I spew. Not every expressed feeling or opinion from someone else warrants my input. I am not an expert on anything, which is something important for me, personally, to remember.

Sometimes, I do silly things. Like stretch in the middle of conversations. Or, whip out my puppet at work—an Italian chef I’ve named Giusseppe, who says inappropriate things. Hey, I aim to cut tension and make people laugh.

Much weight is placed on individuality, but the moment we don’t go with the flow, or take a bite of the bait for debate, we are dubbed argumentative. Like the character Nick Carlton (John Hurt) in the movie, “The Big Chill,” I know how to play devil’s advocate, just to “keep the conversation lively.” And though these types of conversations need not always be lively, they often fuel passion, spark ideas, ignite motivation, and channel activism. At least that’s how I defend my fiery words on most occasions.

Zero energy last year had me scratching my head. Maybe it’s just menopause? Maybe I’ve become increasingly uninspired by “all the things?” It happens. Perhaps there’s too much been there done that in my life, and I’m now bored by “all the things.” Not sure I can conjure much more energy, but I’m trying.

I believe most of us can relate to feeling like this these days. When we are pumped with information and products and photos and a nonstop focus on celebrity culture, nothing really “wows” us anymore. It’s sad, because it reduces human creativity. At least it has for me.

Been writing the sh*t out of my memories though, and that’s been fun. My articles are embellished (a tad) but most anecdotes are true. Small snippets of how I got here and why. Nostalgia. It’s not so much about pining for my youth as it is about writing my story—all the little tidbits and moments and periods of growth and change that make up a life, a little life that matters. Mine.

As humans, we go through lulls. Stretches of time where everything seems quietly ordinary, and not overly riveting. This is fine, but because we are creatures who crave excitement, adventure, and “new, shiny stuff,” it can be difficult to shake the melancholy when we spiral down with it. And if we happen to be prone to bouts of depression, forget about it.

Social media has us trained to believe we must post ourselves doing all the things and feeling all the things. I’ll admit to the rush it gives me when people see my posts and respond. It helps me feel validated, loved, and yes, a bit more “alive” than the usual. It’s encouragement, and that’s a good thing in the land of lots of bad things. It’s a balancing act for sure though. We can’t live for validation. Because at the end of the day, who really gives a damn about the trees I crafted from old book pages, my home decor projects, or my stupidly cute red beanie? I would venture to guess that although the ones I love truly love me back, they do not care one whit about the stupid sh*t I post.

I have a friend who told me she takes selfies because it makes her feel less invisible. That struck a chord with me, and I’ve been thinking a lot about it. To be visible is important. Viable is better, of course. Deep down, don’t we all just want to matter?

I think a lot of what we post to social media comes from that feeling alone. Wanting to feel like we matter.

Mundane is okay. The grind is fine. Putting appointments and dates in our books keeps us moving forward. I am planner and I like to have my schedule set. Putting things on my calendar is my super power, but my weakness is that no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to be as spontaneous as I’d like to be. I must be “ready” for things and events and fun gatherings—otherwise, I yearn for free time or am annoyed that I’m being pulled in a direction that isn’t of my own choosing. Not sure if this is good or bad or common, but it’s often perceived as “not fun,” and that isn’t a great feeling because I’m f*cking fun, damn it.

Something for me to consider. To consciously work on.

Food for thought on a Sunday: I will always choose to grow. I will always choose to want more. I’ll die trying to improve my life and circumstances and relationships and progress. If I make someone laugh out loud or think about something differently along the way, just by being crazy or fueling discussion, I will feel as though I’ve done my part to make the world a little brighter. Or, at least a tad more exciting. A bit of relief from the mundane.

I think the road to happiness is paved with our emotional connections and moments, not stuff. It’s supported by the experiences themselves, not by the pictures we take.

Go ahead, say I’m a character. Call me crazy. IDGAF.

In the wise words of a dear friend, “I know my crazy is safe with you.”

And I thank you for it.


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