Who Needs Normal?
“What are you doing this weekend?” my coworker asked. An innocuous comment, social lubricant aimed more to fill the air or to act as a bonding agent. My chiropractor asks: “Do you have any big plans this weekend?” in the same vein, with a hint of bedside manner to foster the illusion that he cares. He does care, inasmuch as his business is involved, and because he’s a kind, well-meaning person. However, I cannot suspend disbelief enough to expect him to remember my response ten minutes later.
To such innocent queries I respond with self-conscious nothings. My coworkers wouldn’t relate to my tendency to do nothing with relish, not planning a list of chores or errands or outings. How could they understand that I play on the computer, write a little for this blog, practice guitar a bit, shun television like the plague it is, do laundry and a few chores, play with the cats, laugh with my wife and daughter, and generally stay off the streets. Even now with the weather finally stable, I only glance at my spider webbed bicycle and return to my computer; I’ll get some sun when neighborhood peer pressure forces me to mow the lawn. To the peripheral people in my life, which is most of them, it’s hard for me to open up; explaining blogging or my passion for hardware and computer gaming – at my age! – would be too much for them. I come off as a bit odd at the best of times, no need to enforce that image.
I used to point people toward this blog. I still carry some business cards - bought online and created with Paint Shop Pro - in my belt pouch, but I refrain from self-promotion more often these days. I’m not ashamed of my ultra-liberal inflammatory writings, I just wish to spare them the discomfort when, upon our next meetings, they squirm a bit should I ask if they like my blog. “Oh, yeah, I’ve read it…” as in past tense, like they’re never going there again. Perhaps they feel obliged to be embarrassed on my behalf?
That’s okay. I’m quite used to my burgeoning oddball status now that I‘ve reached my doddering middle-age. The tendency is to flaunt it, but I still need to function within society – at least until I retire. As I look about in disbelief at what “normal” Americans are into, I shake a pondering head. These virtual pages are filled with my take on that issue…
Too poor to be eccentric, too young to be demented, I fall into the category of mild weirdness. My Buddhist teachings tell me to relax with that, and I do. Buddhism is perhaps another aspect of how little I fit in with my neighbors… In my next life perhaps normality will prevail. I can wait until then.