It’s one thing to be aware that I’m discerning, but when other people tell me I’m picky, I get upset. I talked a bit about my fuck off-fu, of which I’m well aware, a few days ago, but some people have apparently noticed, and mentioned recently, that yes, I put people off, that I seem to have a bubble around me when I’m out in public, and that I am not very open. This is largely unintentional. Also, when a well-meaning friend tells me that what I think is self-sufficiency comes across like I don’t have time for anyone else, like some weird robot who goes to bars to read and absorb human behaviour, but not partake in it (I’m extrapolating here), I end up going home and crying into red wine. Which I don’t like. (The crying, not the red wine.)
But still, these are not bad things. One, crying reminds me that I’m human and not actually an unfeeling robot and two, it reminds me of one of the most important life lessons anyone can remember, one that I first expressed the one time I was misguidedly invited to advise young people starting university:
Don’t worry; you are not the weirdest person around. By you, I mean you, not me, though it’s true of me too. Humans are weird. There isn’t really a ‘normal’. Do you know a single normal person? Maybe you have a friend, living the dream with a spouse and 2.2 kids in the ‘burbs, but they also are really into taxidermy. Or only eat white foods. Or light their own farts at dinner parties. Or think Dexter is a documentary and won’t be told otherwise. Or believe that people really are too hard on Rob Ford. You get the idea.
Have you ever actually been in a situation where you are the weirdest person in the room? Unlikely. As the Zit Remedy almost sings, everybody’s got something*(s), something(s) that’ll make most other people go “What a weirdo.” It’s a fact. People judge, but are being judged all the time. For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?
Don’t sweat it. Continue to be your weirdo self. Continue wearing your lucky underwear when the Leafs play. Don’t worry if you asked a stranger, out of the blue, if they like panettone. Fret not if people think your ordering a Blue Lagoon in a Irish bar is fucking strange. You’re human, you’re different, and as long as you aren’t hurting anyone, who gives a shit?
Okay, so it’s no Golden Rule, but hey, I’m no philosopher. And my perceived automoton nature might be kind of hurting me, and perhaps others, so I really should work on that a bit.
*I literally thought that WAS what they were singing until I looked it up just now.