What is normal? Is it the median or the average? Do we take the sum of all existence and divide by the number of lives to come up with our expectations? It’s one of the ultimate ironies that we celebrate superheroes with one hand and strive for normalcy with the other.
This is a Blog Hop. So, hoppers: What do you think? What are the ups and downs of normal? What’s normal anyway? Do you wish for it or abhor it?
With every expression of a gene, every formative experience creating a different person, normal becomes a meaningless word. Each individual has their own boundaries and parameters. That’s why I hate questions like “When are you getting better?” Or “How long do you have to use the crutch?” I’m not getting better. I will always need the crutch (and sometimes a wheelchair). This is my normal. And my normal isn’t any less than yours. It’s just different.
It goes the other way, too. Michael Phelps is probably the ideal of human physicality but I don’t expect everyone I meet on the street to swim like he does. That’s his normal. Not mine. And not yours either. Unless, of course, you’re sitting pretty on 22 Olympic gold medals, in which case I’ll shut up.
I think we ache for the status quo so much because we want to fit in, to be accepted for who we are. So much so that we’re willing to change who we are. We’re pack animals. We have a herd mentality; we form family groups – however you want to look at it. There’s strength in numbers but also obscurity. I quilt. I work with colors and patterns. If you put too many pieces of the same color next to each other, you lose the point of patchwork. The pieces all fit together, but the pattern disappears. It’s only by contrasting and complementing the different fabrics that you see the whole.
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