Bah. I hate it when I've got nothing to tell. So I thought I start a blog which will be clever and funny and deep, but I'll find myself again being the oddball - this time of the cyberworld. One should think that at 27, I am used to being the oddball... or above it... but I am frank and open about it, it is still weird, and I still feel sometimes like I haven't aged since I was 16... or 18... or 20. Sometimes I even feel like I'm regressing to a younger age, but I guess going to uni with a bunch of 19 year olds will do that to you. Nothing against 19 year olds. But a vast majority of my friends are having litters, and get married, and get all serious about life and stuff, and I feel I will never catch up. Not that it bugs me... I am quite happy with my life, with low responsibility, and low income, and being semi-free. But one can't help feeling a bit of pressure here and there... without that I'd be perfectly happy.
But anyways, I am happy being me. I am only unhappy about being myself when others make me feel like I am strange (which I probably am, but by whose definition?)... and when I let it get to me.
I have fantasies at times (not that kind, get your mind out of the gutter!) that I want to be a healthy farmer type mom, with flower print dresses, and healthy kids, and a handsome healthy down-to-earth kind husband, just a nice family I can feed warm apple pie to. A picture as cheesy as from a Jehova's Witnesses leaflet. I want to have a home, and a happy family where nothing goes wrong ever.
But then I look at me, and I look at my life, and know it is not gonna happen...because that is not me. I don't mean that in a self-pitying way... it's pretty rational... because I have always been happiest free, and uninfluenced, and uncompromised, and my best friends are those who allow me my space, and accept my weirdness without calling it such, and are happy for me in whatever I do.
I can't be confined, because I go insane. My mind is my own world, in which the things I do are normal... not even that, because value judgment does not exist in my utopia. Things just are. Things that are sick and wrong don't exist, because they go against my mind's world's universal laws.
My dad used to say to me when I was a kid that my living within myself will make me fall flat on my face once I see reality. He thought I am an escapist. That may be true to some extent. But I know that this is the way I kept my sanity.
(Well, this, and Prozac! ;))
U2's song "Peace on Earth" has a good line in it that sums up what was threatening me and what I tried to avoid.
"You become the monster
So the monster will not break you."
I am fiercely opposed to the saying: "If you can't beat them, join them."
I can't give up my ideals just because they may be unattainable. That is hard, though. When we were talking about this, Milla told me that she felt she'd have to separate those ideals from the "world", and that it made her feel like she had two personalities. I agree. I feel that I have to keep a wall up to protect whatever is in me, not let it get fucked up...
I know I have to get along with others and they can have my outer layers, the ones that still connect me with others. We are social, and we need to be social to stay healthy... mankind is an organism, consisting parts that need to connect. But that means that I cannot reach my full potential if I live my life by consensus only, by what is socially acceptable or not. Other people may set those norms, but I can live only the way I think is right, or is me, otherwise I feel like a cardboard figure.
Mankind to me is like a jigsaw puzzle - not all pieces fit together. One corner of us may fit with one other person, another corner with another. The trick is finding the matching pieces and put them in the right places. And it is tempting to try and make them fit by hammering your fist down on them, but what you leave is crooked and bent. I think mankind is some kind of organism that is dysfunctional because a lot of the pieces are bent, or try to fit together where they don't, or give up on fitting together altogether, or have wars because they haven't found the connection or because one attempted connection doesn't work. But that is no reason to give up...
Finding the matching pieces is just trial and error, and it can take an eternity to find them. I was lucky to have found a few. Quite a few, actually.
In that film "Paying it forward", the little boy said something that struck a chord with me.
He said: "I guess it's hard for people who are so used to things the way they are - even if they're bad - to change. 'Cause they kind of give up. And when they do, everybody kind of loses."
See, I don't want to give up. If that is called escapism, fine. But I just don't want to become something I always despised. If reality turns you into a monster, into a cynical, joyless, bitter creature that is so hardened that it can't absorb life, isn't it better to live in your illusions? And what are illusions? What is reality anyway? Isn't it just what is in your mind? Isn't it just what you choose to have in your mind? How you choose to respond?
Reality is overrated. Objective reality doesn't exist. Norm is consensus.
I make myself. Take it or leave it.
I think there are one or two people out there who know what I mean, and I am glad of that.
(See, didn't I tell you? Trying to be all deep'n' shit again. I am disgusted with myself.)
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