How I feel about being “normal”

I discovered a long time ago, that I was weird. I don’t stress over broken fingernails (unless there’s blood involved and there has been!) I like football, I like reading and drawing and I could do without a TV. I love science, bugs, (not on me)  I get excited over nerdy stupid things, I’d rather write out an rpg on a forum than play it on a console. I love storms, I don’t like it when food mixes on my plate, I don’t like sweet meats (dessert is a sweet treat; meat is not.)  I hate coffee.. blech, I get drunk on 2 wine coolers and after my Csection the only painkiller that didn’t knock me out or make me see stuff was Tylenol with codeine.

When I picked my son up at school I made puppet llamas with my hands and stuck them through the sunroof and made them dance when he came out. When I dropped him off (even in highschool), we’d roll up in a spiffy little Crossfire and he’d get out and everyone would look at the car (and him). Just to keep him humble I’d wait for him to get a few feet away, roll down the window and call his name wait for him to acknowledge me and yell out as loud as I could: “Mama LOOOOOVES youuuuu!” Not all the time, because then he’d just ignore it.

I don’t fit into any one box or crowd… and I like it that way. When I drop something I might mutter/yell “Puddles! or Fudge Monkeys!” I have conversations about ghosts, aliens (the extraterrestrial kind) I try to apply physics to ghosts to explain them. I talk about black holes and theoretical physics and base life decisions on things I’ve learned in movies. I believe there’s more to dreams than just random data being processed by the brain, but I also believe that sometimes they caused by a green olive and anchovy pizza before bed. You know which is which instinctively.

There’s always something interesting going on in my head.
One of my favorite things to say is: Why be normal when WEIRD is so much more fun? Apparently Van Gogh agrees with me. 🙂

~Your weird friendly neighborhood

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