One Size Does Not Fit All

I have come across many imperfect people through the years.  There has been a divorce here or there, an unexpected pregnancy or two, legal hassles.  I know several folks that have logged jail time and some babies being brought up “untraditionally”.

And you know what?  I can get along just fine with all of them.  How?  Well, I have experience at not being “the norm”, and it helps.

In theory, I am supposed to be married, have a house, and a child or two.  I do not quite know how to break this to you, but I have yet to change a diaper or write a check for the mortgage.  It sounds a bit idyllic because it is.

I like romantic comedies, but I like having weird sleeping hours without disturbing anyone.  I enjoy heroic tales and inspirational paragons, but the comic I just read about super-villains pulling off a heist was hilarious.  Some of the most entertaining films (Inception, Guardians of the Galaxy, Moulin Rouge) are great because they are so different from the standard fare.  There is a reason people have fallen in love with doughnuts that have bacon in them.  The quirks can make things more enjoyable.

My car is nothing fancy.  It is bordering on twenty years old and has more than one hundred thousand miles on it.  Still, once upon a time, people kept breaking into the dang thing.  There was the joyrider who left their McDonald’s in the seat.  There was the time they stole my car stereo.  And of course, someone took my little antenna ball.  Dastardly foes!  Ol’ Blue has lived quite the life.

That all changed when I put a two-foot by two-foot vinyl S-shield on the hood, a la Superman.  Ever since, nobody has touched it.  Even when the car is unlocked, it sits there unmolested.

Sure, you could say that there is nothing interesting in the car.  You could point out that there is a dent in the fender, ruining its “mint condition” rating.  Or you could say that they have moved on to more popular cars (the theft rates for Hondas are astounding).

However I choose to believe, much like the song, that you don’t tug on Superman’s cape.  That the little detail (or, in this case, big and obnoxious detail) is enough to instill appreciation.  Twenty-something guys wave at my car.  Small children stop in the crosswalk and point excitedly at the hood.  Quirks are more fun.  They add something to life.

I do not aspire to be normal or cool.  I refuse to have a trendy haircut.  I actively avoid any occupation that will involve a desk, my own phone extension, or sitting behind a computer for forty hours.

My church likes me.  My niece demanded, “You need to stop dropping stuff off and come play board games with us”, so I figure that counts for something.  And despite my non-professional demeanor, customers keep coming back when I am working, even though they know I might throw something at them.

And yes, you are more than allowed to live your normal existence.  We both know you have your own little secret quirks.  I promise not to expose you.

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About anecdotaltales

He's a simple enough fellow. He likes movies, comics, radio shows from the 40's, and books. He likes to write and wishes his cat wouldn't shed on his laptop.
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