I posted a picture strung with a Maya Angelou quote today that read "If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be."
So simple right? Errrr, not really.
The reason this really spoke to me is multifaceted. In my opinion (which I think is a little redundant to say since this whole blog is just that) the word normal is one of the worst words in the human language (I'm willing to bet it's not even in some of the older languages). When I read it or hear it I try to swallow it but it's like I have just drank some scotch - I stiffen up and then pucker and feel like a flame is coming from my insides. Man that word burns. Normal (insert shudder). What the fuck is normal?!?
So here's the definition:
Conforming! According to square! Need I say more? Probably not but you know I'm going to.
I was inspired to write this blog because I have never, as far as I can remember, identified with "normal". In fact, I embraced "weird" so long ago that I came to think it was a term of endearment. I remember being home in PEI one Christmas and a friend saying to me "Grace, you are seriously the weirdest person I know, and I love it." - I smiled from the inside out when I heard this. It just felt so...so...right. Now I think about all the "you are so weird" and "you are so crazy"'s I have heard throughout my life and I wonder what that really means?
Am I trying to be weird or am I just weird?
Do I weird people out?
What does weird look like from the outside?
I certainly know how it feels from the inside, and the look on people's faces generally indicates whether I have taken "weird" to a level above weird-accetable but I feel like I have somehow lost myself in the acceptance of "weird". I feel like in a strange backwards way I am conforming to weird, instead of normal.
I had a fascinating moment tonight when I was explaining to my friend Gill that over Christmas Lilly got into Dragonvale (a farmville type game on the iPad) and I had also become completely enthralled (ok, ok obsessed), that I am now someone who I used to consider weird - like not weird like me, weird like WEIRD. Other people weird.
Let me explain.
So I am pretty comfortable with my brand of weird, but I find myself using the word in a very negative way when I see other people doing things that I do not understand, relate to or feel comfortable with. Farmville, Dragonvale whatever it may be - it was all weird to me before. I didn't get why people would possibly want to build fake communities? I mean who the hell has time for that first of all, aren't we all super busy trying to win (what is it again we are winning, and where are the awards held? Am I late?). I would even think "Good God, put your time and energy into the real living breathing people in your life."
Well I'm here to admit/declare/announce: that I was dead ass wrong and a hypocrite with a double standard that puts the double big mac to shame, and it slapped me across the face with great force.
Sometimes you just can no longer put your time and energy into "real" people, places and things. Sometimes reality is cold and harsh. When Lilly and I sit down together to play with our dragons we have serious passionate conversations. We get genuinely excited when we finally breed that dragon we have been wanting. We (mostly I) wake each other up early to show one another the new dragon that we got first thing in the morning. We have to use our memories, we have to use some math skills, we have to manage our money. We get to name them and be creative. So does the setting or the reason take away from any of this being real, impactful and gosh darn important?
The answer is No.
So this brings me to my next major Aha moment. What is real anyway? Does it really matter how we find our happiness, and further more who are we to judge where people find that feeling? We definitely aren't hurting anyone, or ourselves - in fact we are having such a blast, bonding and communicating on the same level that I would say we are both spreading happier vibes. We, a 4 year old and a 30 year old, have found common ground some how. I look forward to spending time with my little dragon-breeding-sidekick. In this space, she gets me. She gets my excitement and she doesn't judge me for one micro second when I am hoping we will get a Rainbow Dragon instead of a Brass Dragon. I can't always effectively communicate with my 4 year olds what happened in the big bad real world. They don't always understand why I am happy or why I am crying, and to be honest neither do I. I have forgotten what it feels like to just be excited about something that doesn't really matter. I have put so much expectation and weight into everything that it loses the real passion; if I have enough money, if I am successful, if I am a good parent, if I am a stand up citizen, if I give enough, if I'm kind enough, if people like me (the list is infinite). Who gives a shit! None of that matters in this space where we are make-believing - where we are just purely believing.
You when "they" take risks or do something everyday that scares you? Well, taking risks doesn't always mean it's scary, daring and high adrenaline. Sometimes taking risks is simple doing something that you feel a little embarrassed about or judged so much that you held yourself apart from experiencing it.
I struggle with showing my children what real true passion looks & feels like. The kind of passion you have for something that is going to get you absolutely nothing but a big bold smile across your face - a "stupid smile" as a friend of mine calls it. I have forgotten what really gives/allows me to be happy. I think it's going to be there on Christmas morning, then to no avail, it is not. That was someone elses ideas of passion. Everything I do has a condition and an expected outcome, a reward or a consequence. A lot of what I do I have come to realize over the last year wasn't what I really wanted anyway, it was what I thought I was suppose to want, what I have been conditioned to want. When we play this fantasy game of make-believe - sweet blissful care-free make-believe - it affects no one but us. No one even cares to see our dragons (and believe you me, we have tried to show them to people). She doesn't love it because I love it, she loves it because she loves it. I don't love it because she loves it, I love it because I love it - we love Dragonvale and we don't care who knows it... and we get to be there together and share in that.
It's the first thing in a long time that I don't feel like I am suppose to love, there is no external pressure or force. It just is. I just do.
So, is that weird? I don't know and I don't care.
Is it normal? I sure as shit hope not cause normal and I were never friends.
Weird will be different to each and every one of us. We will project our shit and our fears on to others because we don't know enough about something, or we have built such a strong stereotype in our heads that we cannot begin to fathom or comprehend "why on earth someone would do something like that?".
Let me be the first to admit, I have done it. I have thought it and I have profanely used the word "weird" about someone else like they had a catchable disease of some kind. I have called groups of people and individuals weird because I don't understand and I am afraid. Really I am just too busy trying to fit my weird-self in somewhere and not stick too far out like a second sore thumb, that I can't possibly find out what they are doing in case it entices me further out of the bounds of normal. I know I'm offside already but I don't know if I am ready to be completely out of bounds in the game of weird.
So I ask you this: what are you doing to be "normal" that is holding you back? Or better yet, what could you do to get down with your bad-ass-weird self? Or even better than better, what could you do to just honour who you really are - to let go of whatever someone (or a collective invisible body of "they") may think or judge you for? How are you different from everyone else, and does anyone know about this weirdism?
We are all spiritual beings here having a human experience - our own personal, very different human experience. Why are we trying to all live the same one? Who said it was so friggen great to fit into that particular size and style of box? Maybe your box is big (stay with me here, don't go to the dirty side - ah screw it go there I am, meet me back here in 5). Maybe your box is lime green, bright pink, deep purple. Maybe it changes when you colour it, or reconstruct it? Whatever it is, or whatever is can be - let it be yours. Be weird, because you know to me, that is the only way to express yourself. If someone is calling you weird - they obviously see you as the unique individual you are. So thank you to all of you who have called me weird over the years, you ain't seen nothin' yet!
With love and gratitude,
Weird Grace
So simple right? Errrr, not really.
The reason this really spoke to me is multifaceted. In my opinion (which I think is a little redundant to say since this whole blog is just that) the word normal is one of the worst words in the human language (I'm willing to bet it's not even in some of the older languages). When I read it or hear it I try to swallow it but it's like I have just drank some scotch - I stiffen up and then pucker and feel like a flame is coming from my insides. Man that word burns. Normal (insert shudder). What the fuck is normal?!?
So here's the definition:
normal
1. Conforming to or consisting of a pattern, process, or standard regarded as usual or typical; regular; natural.
2. Physically, mentally, and emotionally healthy; the standard of performance in a given function or test, usually taken from the average or median achievement for the group concerned.
3. Maintained or occurring in a natural status.
4. In mathematics, a line, or plane, that is perpendicular to another line or plane.
5. Etymology: from Late Latin normalis, "according to rule"; from Latin, "according to a square, forming a right angle"; from norma, "carpenter's square, pattern, rule"; believed to be from Greekgnomona, accusative of gnomon, "interpreter, discerner, pointer on a sundial, carpenter's square" + -alis, "-al"; a suffix that forms adjectives.
Synonyms include: average, ordinary, expected; conformable; conforming, consistent; par, conventional; constant, steady, unchanging; steadfast, reliable, dependable; fit, sound, healthy; sane, reasonable, rational; mediocre.
3. Maintained or occurring in a natural status.
4. In mathematics, a line, or plane, that is perpendicular to another line or plane.
Conforming! According to square! Need I say more? Probably not but you know I'm going to.
I was inspired to write this blog because I have never, as far as I can remember, identified with "normal". In fact, I embraced "weird" so long ago that I came to think it was a term of endearment. I remember being home in PEI one Christmas and a friend saying to me "Grace, you are seriously the weirdest person I know, and I love it." - I smiled from the inside out when I heard this. It just felt so...so...right. Now I think about all the "you are so weird" and "you are so crazy"'s I have heard throughout my life and I wonder what that really means?
Am I trying to be weird or am I just weird?
Do I weird people out?
What does weird look like from the outside?
I certainly know how it feels from the inside, and the look on people's faces generally indicates whether I have taken "weird" to a level above weird-accetable but I feel like I have somehow lost myself in the acceptance of "weird". I feel like in a strange backwards way I am conforming to weird, instead of normal.
I had a fascinating moment tonight when I was explaining to my friend Gill that over Christmas Lilly got into Dragonvale (a farmville type game on the iPad) and I had also become completely enthralled (ok, ok obsessed), that I am now someone who I used to consider weird - like not weird like me, weird like WEIRD. Other people weird.
Let me explain.
So I am pretty comfortable with my brand of weird, but I find myself using the word in a very negative way when I see other people doing things that I do not understand, relate to or feel comfortable with. Farmville, Dragonvale whatever it may be - it was all weird to me before. I didn't get why people would possibly want to build fake communities? I mean who the hell has time for that first of all, aren't we all super busy trying to win (what is it again we are winning, and where are the awards held? Am I late?). I would even think "Good God, put your time and energy into the real living breathing people in your life."
Well I'm here to admit/declare/announce: that I was dead ass wrong and a hypocrite with a double standard that puts the double big mac to shame, and it slapped me across the face with great force.
Sometimes you just can no longer put your time and energy into "real" people, places and things. Sometimes reality is cold and harsh. When Lilly and I sit down together to play with our dragons we have serious passionate conversations. We get genuinely excited when we finally breed that dragon we have been wanting. We (mostly I) wake each other up early to show one another the new dragon that we got first thing in the morning. We have to use our memories, we have to use some math skills, we have to manage our money. We get to name them and be creative. So does the setting or the reason take away from any of this being real, impactful and gosh darn important?
The answer is No.
So this brings me to my next major Aha moment. What is real anyway? Does it really matter how we find our happiness, and further more who are we to judge where people find that feeling? We definitely aren't hurting anyone, or ourselves - in fact we are having such a blast, bonding and communicating on the same level that I would say we are both spreading happier vibes. We, a 4 year old and a 30 year old, have found common ground some how. I look forward to spending time with my little dragon-breeding-sidekick. In this space, she gets me. She gets my excitement and she doesn't judge me for one micro second when I am hoping we will get a Rainbow Dragon instead of a Brass Dragon. I can't always effectively communicate with my 4 year olds what happened in the big bad real world. They don't always understand why I am happy or why I am crying, and to be honest neither do I. I have forgotten what it feels like to just be excited about something that doesn't really matter. I have put so much expectation and weight into everything that it loses the real passion; if I have enough money, if I am successful, if I am a good parent, if I am a stand up citizen, if I give enough, if I'm kind enough, if people like me (the list is infinite). Who gives a shit! None of that matters in this space where we are make-believing - where we are just purely believing.
You when "they" take risks or do something everyday that scares you? Well, taking risks doesn't always mean it's scary, daring and high adrenaline. Sometimes taking risks is simple doing something that you feel a little embarrassed about or judged so much that you held yourself apart from experiencing it.
I struggle with showing my children what real true passion looks & feels like. The kind of passion you have for something that is going to get you absolutely nothing but a big bold smile across your face - a "stupid smile" as a friend of mine calls it. I have forgotten what really gives/allows me to be happy. I think it's going to be there on Christmas morning, then to no avail, it is not. That was someone elses ideas of passion. Everything I do has a condition and an expected outcome, a reward or a consequence. A lot of what I do I have come to realize over the last year wasn't what I really wanted anyway, it was what I thought I was suppose to want, what I have been conditioned to want. When we play this fantasy game of make-believe - sweet blissful care-free make-believe - it affects no one but us. No one even cares to see our dragons (and believe you me, we have tried to show them to people). She doesn't love it because I love it, she loves it because she loves it. I don't love it because she loves it, I love it because I love it - we love Dragonvale and we don't care who knows it... and we get to be there together and share in that.
It's the first thing in a long time that I don't feel like I am suppose to love, there is no external pressure or force. It just is. I just do.
So, is that weird? I don't know and I don't care.
Is it normal? I sure as shit hope not cause normal and I were never friends.
Weird will be different to each and every one of us. We will project our shit and our fears on to others because we don't know enough about something, or we have built such a strong stereotype in our heads that we cannot begin to fathom or comprehend "why on earth someone would do something like that?".
Let me be the first to admit, I have done it. I have thought it and I have profanely used the word "weird" about someone else like they had a catchable disease of some kind. I have called groups of people and individuals weird because I don't understand and I am afraid. Really I am just too busy trying to fit my weird-self in somewhere and not stick too far out like a second sore thumb, that I can't possibly find out what they are doing in case it entices me further out of the bounds of normal. I know I'm offside already but I don't know if I am ready to be completely out of bounds in the game of weird.
So I ask you this: what are you doing to be "normal" that is holding you back? Or better yet, what could you do to get down with your bad-ass-weird self? Or even better than better, what could you do to just honour who you really are - to let go of whatever someone (or a collective invisible body of "they") may think or judge you for? How are you different from everyone else, and does anyone know about this weirdism?
We are all spiritual beings here having a human experience - our own personal, very different human experience. Why are we trying to all live the same one? Who said it was so friggen great to fit into that particular size and style of box? Maybe your box is big (stay with me here, don't go to the dirty side - ah screw it go there I am, meet me back here in 5). Maybe your box is lime green, bright pink, deep purple. Maybe it changes when you colour it, or reconstruct it? Whatever it is, or whatever is can be - let it be yours. Be weird, because you know to me, that is the only way to express yourself. If someone is calling you weird - they obviously see you as the unique individual you are. So thank you to all of you who have called me weird over the years, you ain't seen nothin' yet!
With love and gratitude,
Weird Grace
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