In Defense of Desiring Normalcy

You'd think that since it was something of a seminal moment in my week I'd actually have some recollection of what it was...but I don't. Instead I have a fleeting memory of a feeling that I can't quite wrap my head around and will likely never be able to explain to anyone else. Trust me, last night I tried.

Most of the time my life is like me, an amorphous blob. The world throws shit at it and it changes shape to deal with that shit. My life is what it is and in lots of ways it still is what it always has been...it's just better than it used to be.

I don't really have the structure most people have in their life, the plan. Most of the time I don't want anything so I try not to waste my time figuring out exactly what it is I don't want. But it gets tougher. You can get so god damn lonely if you don't watch yourself, but it's just a weird sort of lonely when there is always so much going on. I run with a couple of different crowds, have enough regular haunts that there's always something going on, and have enough work always needing to be done that a few extra hours in the office are almost always productive. The kids live right up the street, my house always needs to be cleaned, and I've got enough dvds, video games, and books to keep me fairly entertained. I've also got a treadmill that is constantly in need of use. But I don't have what other people have...and I don't really know if I ever will.


So a brief second of normalcy flashing before my eyes got me thinking, and as it unfortunately so often does thinking got me talking, and then talking got me thinking some more and next thing you know I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom staring up at the ceiling for six hours on a Saturday afternoon...and I don't even really know why. And it sort of dawned on me that what had been a fairly fantastic week was suddenly filled with heartache, and grief, and just a little bit of misery for no real reason at all.

So I got over it. Sort of.


My life can be described as a lot of things. Boring. Ordinary. Lacking. But never normal...it's never been normal. And that had never really bothered me. You can't miss what you've never had, right? But somewhere near the middle of this fairly pleasant week in that brief moment somewhere halfway between a queer little smile and wide toothy grin it hit me.

I felt normal.

And I liked it.

I fucking liked it.

Shit.

What do I do now?