A crazy good decision

My sister must be sick of hearing me ask, “Do you think I’m crazy?”  It’s usually followed by, “Crazy crazy, or good crazy?” just to clarify. The questions have come up a lot over the years.

I’ve always had this strange desire to be normal.  I think it started in high school — prime time to start searching for a sense of belonging and see how you fit in — and at some level, it still lingers.  Any deviation from a conventional life brings it back up and makes me feel crazy, because of all the angst and doubt and questioning that come along with it.

The other day, a wise man pointed out that I seem to equate normal with good.  It made me wonder: What’s good about being normal?  Although I may think it’s good, being normal doesn’t actually feel good to me.  It feels… constraining.  Confining.  There’s no creativity in conformity.

And when I think about the times I’ve felt the most alive, they’ve been the same times I’ve felt… crazy.  Happy.  Free.  Most like me.

My sister’s been onto me for years: “I don’t think you’re crazy.  I know you are.”

So I’m just gonna call it: Crazy is the new normal.

And, for me, this is a good thing.

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