god help me: i took out an online personal ad at nerve.com. yes, i really really did. because it occurred to me, "hey genius, you're not going to meet anybody sitting in your bedroom reading a book." to which i answered, "but i hate bars, and where else do you meet people?" (yes, i talk to myself. i have no problem admitting to my craziness. go read the last entry.) and then i thought, "why not let the internet do the work for me?" so i found a picture, wrote some witty words, and it's up there. under this nickname, should some of you want to search for it. perverts that you are.

some things have been happening that are making me think about the nature of craziness and sanity. among others, every person i know who's taken that test has score as crazy or crazier than i did. and one of my best friends' sisters was admitted to a mental hospital for suicide watch. she's the last person you'd expect it from too; very together and happy and normal.

and maybe that's the thing. because the reason she lost it was that her very nice, ordered, normal life was falling apart around her. to be an intelligent person living a shallow life takes a certain kind of blindness, a belief that what you have is enough. to lose that, i can imagine, would send anyone into a tailspin. because you're realizing that you don't really have it. you're not in control, and all the things you thought were enough for you aren't what you thought they were.

so there's that. and there are people who have been hurt so badly that they don't know if they're ever going to be put back together in working order. but they aren't crazy, either. they're living a life based on an entirely different paradigm. one that involves how much of yourself to let out at any given time. how much pain you can let yourself feel at any moment. they're trying to stay safe. more power to them.

there are also people like me (at least i'm fairly sure i'm not the only one.). people who don't want what "normal" people want. people who talk like dictionaries, but can't spell. who can write a poem that will take your breath away, but never return videos on time and can't always figure out how to work the parking meter. people who see shapes and faces in everything from clouds to wood grain to stains on the rug, but try hard not to point them out because people will think they're weird. who end up with piles of stuff everywhere because they have some grand plan for them or just because they can't bear to throw things away. who can tell you what they wore on the first day of school in fifth grade, but not where they put the cordless phone last, or where in god's name their keys are. who believe in premonitions, know who's calling before they answer the phone, and swearch their dreams for meaning. who actually like polyester dresses. who take drugs, or don't take drugs because their minds are scary enough. people who think that they are here for some larger purpose, and who think that maybe crazy people are actually just tuned in to a different station, and maybe the government really is spying on everyone, aliens are real, and life really is that odd.

and you know what? they're not crazy either.

and i'm not so sure about the ones who think they're napoleon, or jesus, or beat their heads against walls. but i do know that i'm not nearly as afraid of "crazy" people as i am of "sane" ones. (with the exception of psychopathic killers and serial rapists and such, of course.) because, well, a house, a spouse, 2.5 kids, a 401K and a dog just sound like damn frightening things to be working for, don't they?

or maybe i'm nuts. -beatpoetgrrl

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