Abby Normal*
I was up rather late last night, tossing and turning, realizing THIS IS MY LIFE.
There is no jet, there are no groupies, there are no book deals, there are no male models in my bed (though Lancelot is awful cute), I am not recognized wherever I go, I am not a style icon, I lack bling-age, I do not prance down red carpets, I am not called in to solve world problems, I have not been nor will I ever be a guest on Oprah or David Letterman or even SNL, and I am not even a regular on any sort of social season, here or abroad.
How is this possible? I am, no doubt about it, normal. Average. Run of the mill. Every day. Mundane.
Yes, I know. We are all special in our own way. Normal is better than crazy, coked up reject festering in uncontrolled angst and paranoia, sure. Really, normal is not that bad at all. Normal is, in fact, normal. I just hadn't considered the possibility that I would be ordinary. It's going to take some getting used to.
And so? I give you linkage. Why? Because my brain is occupied with enumerating the ways I am not normal, just so that I have something to cling to. Because, really, what is normal?
Plan B approved for over-the-counter sales (to adults).
I love her work and want to buy everything she's ever done.
How gorgeous is this stuff! So pretty.
These cards are a riot.
Tom Cruise as a fat man.
Some FAQs.
Astronomy picture of the day.
A Transformers movie? Oh, Lancelot is going to love this.
Proof that we are all far too dependent on these blasted machines.
Because everyone should go on road trips.
*Young Frankenstein
4 Comments:
re: Molly Crabapple - Whee! That rocks!
Ah. I recognize this dilemma as well. At least I can comfort myself with the knowledge that while others may dictate how societally (is that a word?) special I am, I can only ever be as mundane as I permit myself to be.
Unless by some freak of happenstance the spark of creative life and fantastic dreaming in me fizzles to nothing...and I end up passing my days talking of drywall and SUVs and limiting myself only to what is...mundane is the one thing I can't be. Ever. I think that holds true for you too. (For the record, I don't think of you as mundane, either. Perhaps encouragement from an Almost Total Stranger can help? ;))
I'm pretty mundane and suburban (on the outside, anyway).
ps life is long, you can still get that book deal.
Gypsy, I suppose we are all ordinary in some way. Even Justin Timberlake, who I had a very juicy sex dream with last night (and told Raj about it this morning) is ordinary once you strip away the red carpet events and concerts. I mean, come on, he would probably be all clingy in bed - talking about all the drugs he's done. Puh-lease mama's boy.
But I digress.
Many people are mundane and boring. You're not. I think that's pretty damn cool.
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