22 Sep All kinds of crazy
A lot of people think I am a little crazy for one reason or another, not crazy like I am going to chop you into little pieces and maybe have a taste crazy, just crazy like “He did whaaaaat now?” crazy.
I don’t think myself crazy at all, which is what they say crazy people say, so I guess in a way I am proving the point with my complete denial of crazy. It is hard to be outwardly introspectvie without coming across as a neurotic ego maniac, but fortunately part of my suggested loopiness is not really caring what people think, so I am just gonna say what I want and we’ll see what comes from it.
Just to be clear from the start, I don’t mind if people think I am a bit crazy, and I don’t mind if people think I am completely normal, I have no preference either way as to how I am perceived by others as long as I am being true to myself (and not chopping people into little bits and eating them, which would be gross). I have no complex about my peculiarities and in fact do not think that any of them on their own are all that peculiar. I just think that maybe I have managed to amass an unusually large collection of said peculiarities and that most of the time I let them run free.
No wonder I come across a bit cray cray.
I had an unusual upbringing which allowed me a lot of time to be introspective, and an unusual young adult life which allowed me a lot of time to be introspective in the same way Timothy Leary was introspective in the sixties. I then somehow managed to take those years of peculiar introspection, get a girlfriend and work it all into a highly unorthodox way of living. One of the benefits to what the rest of this post is all about, is that despite a number of bad things happening in my past, I 100% do not care or hold any residual sadness from those days. I have totally and completely put the past where it belongs, in the past. Sure it played a part in shaping who I am today, but it does not define me. How could it? It no longer exists.
CRAZY AIN’T EASY
Anyone who new me a few to several years ago and before would have said something like “He is such a nice guy, but so quiet and a bit of a loner”, and they would have been exactly right. I was of course also crazy back then, but I was too shy to show it. It wasn’t until I stopped caring what people thought and stopped taking life so seriously that I managed to share my brand of crazy with everyone else.
I think at this point it is a good idea just to share a little theory I have with anyone reading this. We all be crazy, some of us just hide it more than others, and others deny it more than some. The only difference between me and most, aside from dashing good looks and an ability to charm small animals, is that I wear my crazy on my sleeve.
But it ain’t easy. A lot of the time I have to make myself act and think a certain way and shape my mind into what I want it to be, less so as I get older. With every breath I try to take in reality and breath out the fictions we create for ourselves.
The way some people seek enlightenment or happiness or contentment, I seek what comes across as crazy, because I believe it leads to all those things. Do I think I am crazy? No not at all. I think I just care less than most, or at least I am trying to.
That may not sound like a great thing on the surface, wanting to care less, but I don’t mean care less about life. I mean care less about what we think life is, care less about the things we can’t change, care less about what others think and care less about the things which make us unhappy only because we give them the power to do so by caring too much.
Most of my life has been an excruciating bout of shyness and withdrawal because I cared too much about the wrong things. I was so focused on how I looked, on how I acted, on what I liked, on who I liked and on every damn word I said, that I forgot to think about me.
I forgot to focus on who I am, on what I want to say, on how I want to look, on how I want to behave, talk, feel and act so that I spent my early life on a roller coaster of insecurity. So I taught myself to be crazy.
Despite popular belief, crazy ain’t easy and it does not come of its own accord if you want to live in society, and I do want to live in society. It has cars, movies, computers, beds, fridges, canned tuna and a million other things which I want in my life. But I don’t want to care what the society which creates these amazing things thinks of me, and that is hard.
ALL KINDS OF CRAZY
Crazy of course comes in all shapes and sizes. Some people think it is crazy that I have my own flying machine that I use to soar thousands of feet in the air. I think it is crazy that people fall through holes in mountains with a bird suit on.
“Hola Senor, Tu es loco?”
Some people think it is crazy that I put hideous photos of myself up on the internet. I think it is crazy that it is normal for people to cover themselves up with expensive masks and clothing which hides their “imperfections” and as such their true selves from the world.
Some people think it is crazy that we sold all our shit and travel the world without thinking about what will happen if and when we get old and don’t have financial security. I think it is crazy that people actually believe there is such a thing as financial security and throw away most of their lives to make sure a small part of it at the end they might not reach doesn’t suck too much
Some people think it is crazy that we will probably not have kids and will continue to live for ourselves. I think it is crazy that people live for their kids without realizing that they are passing on the message that as a parent your life is less important than theirs, which means that they are likely to do the same with their kids, ad infinitum. So who gets to live the full life?
I think it is crazy that we judge other people without realizing that they might be right or that they might be broken, and that who gives a shit what they believe anyway. This is one form of craziness which still has a hold on me and which I am trying to break, because I believe what is crazy is caring what anyone thinks.
In my head we are all just animals who somehow figured out we exist, that that existence is limited, and then squander it anyway. Which makes us the only crazy species I know of in the universe. We are conscious beings, but just barely. The way we think is insane, the importance we give to our teensy bit of time in the vastness of eternity is insane, the way we take ourselves and our actions so seriously is insane.
If we acknowledged the briefness and counter intuitive way we live our lives and changed accordingly, we would have no wars because the idea of land ownership, religion and culture would be laughable. No famine because the idea of accumulating wealth would be ridiculous. No bullying because having an ego in your tiny lifespan and sphere of influence is completely illogical. No anger, jealousy or sorrow because it makes no sense to want to change the things and people we have no control over. We have no control over anything but ourselves.
Some people think I am crazy because I wear my personality on my sleeve, well, I am trying to but it is hard to be sane in this crazy crazy world.
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