An Apology for Normality

I think people have under-appreciated what it means to live a normal life – an average, distinctly common existence. My indirect vicarious participation in the lives of certain (for a lack of a better word) acquaintances has led me to acknowledge my normality and appreciate it for what it is: average. I enjoy not having transexual encounters in back allies. I enjoy not sending those I've been intimate with to jail for obsessive behavior. I even enjoy remembering the majority of my days because my liver isn't being pumped with litres of alcohol on an hourly rate... Actually, that might still be a fun prospect. I won't rag on that too much at the moment. I know most people would say to me, “You live a boring life”, “where's the adventure?”, “what about gay midget clown strippers?” My response to that would be, “Why should I objectify gay midget clown strippers with the rest of the world? I'm sure they've got gay midget clown feelings just like the rest of us, even if they're sick and dirty.” And I'll save my dreams of eventually waiting outside a clown college in the hopes that one of them will befriend me for another time.

So, this is an apology for normality. I will present a few key points outlining the benefits of living an average and un-inspired life. This will be an open discussion, so please feel free to add your own reasons why living a normal life is beneficial.

Sanity: People have taken sanity for granted. The common argument that if you think you're insane then you're actually not, because only insane people can't acknowledge their insanity is completely full of shit logic. Who came up with this? I'll tell you who came up with it. People who think that pretending to be insane is this fun and 'hip' thing in society. People like Bruno and Doug sitting in a bar slapping their palms against a table rhythm of the crappy music blaring out of the stereos, as if to connote some inclination towards musical talent. Well, let me tell you, I've seen some seriously derranged individuals in mental institutions bang their hands, and other more fragile parts of their bodies, against objects far more dangerous than a table in a bar and they were not the Wagners of our day. I can assure you, if they had the choice, I'm sure they'd tell you they'd much rather not be doing something quite so stupid, so why would you voluntarily put yourself through this physical and mental torture at the expense of my mediocre appreciation of the cheap beer and equally cheap women around me?

Blood Presure: While many of people will automatically tell me, “oh come now. There are an infinite number of factors which play into having low or high blood pressure. And what does 'normality' mean anyway? You can't empirically know that 'normality' will lower blood pressure. I mean, what, are you a doctor now?”

Well, I would tell these people to go shove their heads in a meat grinder and let me know afterwards if not being a butcher changed their opinions about whether or not meat grinders actually killed people if heads were put inside them. At the risk of sounding facetious, I don't think many will come back to me. Either because they'll be dead, or they'll have taken the hint and have left me the fuck alone.

Friends: Yes. Living a normal life means having normal friends. This point can be made for families, so we'll group the two together. Normal people don't have friends who call them up at 4 in the morning crying about how their boyfriends that they know are abusive drug addicts have once again decided to show their superiority by shoving their fists three inches in their skulls. It means that you don't constantly remind these people that these are their problems and as such, should be dealt with accordingly; ie, quit calling at 4 in the morning because normal people don't give a fuck about the inability for Darwinian evolution to take effect within your immediate family.

Career aspirations: We don't have any. Many people who aren't normal – people who spend fifteen hours a day studying for quizes and five percent bonus assignments – don't understand what a relief it is to sit back, read a book of our choosing, play the dozen video games we've told ourselves we'd get to if we weren't so lazy (a point which, if I feel like it, will be touched upon further down) while downing a couple of beers. We just don't have any. People often wonder why that is. I mean, they question my honesty when I tell them that I just don't have any specific interests from which I would like to make my career. I don't. Quit asking. The more you ask, the less inclined I will be to give you any response at all.

As I stated above, this will be an ongoing project. One which I hope to expand upon in further detail to shove it down the throats of all my non-normal friends who take great pleasure in suggesting I'm heaven bound.