Being Weird Is Normal (Normal People Are Weird)

A story about fitting in

Fitting in is overrated. But for a while in my life, it seemed like the only way to survive.

Now, I don’t regret the years I tried to be normal—you’ve got to learn the rules before you break them, after all—but why did I care so much about being just like everyone else?

It didn’t start out that way. In kindergarten I remained an unreconstructed weirdo: cracking open acorns on the playground, pretending the insides were cheese, eating them. Little kids are gloriously weird. In fact, I think we’re all born our own weird selves, and we stay that way until something profound happens: friends.

School teaches us more than reading, writing, and arithmetic. You soon learn that some people are cool and some people are not. The criteria for the designation might be mysterious, but the end result cuts black and white. God bless the people who don’t let this bother them—I cannot claim that for myself.

For me, school was like joining a flock of birds. Whenever the group moved this way or that, I went along with it, if only because the next closest bird did the same thing. What else do you expect when you and everyone else (even those who fake it) have no idea where they’re going? Because the last thing you want is to stray too far and get picked off.

A 'normal person' is what is left after society has squeezed all unconventional opinions and aspirations out of a human being.” – Mokokoma Mokhonoana

In other words: Being normal is a disappearing act. Wearing the shoes, the shirt, the haircut, saying the right things—fitting in perfectly—disappearing is the point, right?

I don’t know if this is true for everyone, but the times I’ve tried to fit in most line up perfectly with the times I’ve felt least secure about who I am. And when I couldn’t believe in myself, I believed in what was normal.

7^th GRADE MARTIN - Abercrombie shirt, chain necklace, peak awkward

After sacrificing myself to being normal for years, life got pretty rough. Confidence was at an all-time low. But if (false) friends got me into that mess, (real) friends got me out. Friends who—through all kinds of social miscues—came to know me for who I really was, and didn’t care that I was weird.

At some point, hopefully, you realize that normal is boring. And that rewards await those willing to be different. Which goes back to the rules we learn in the schoolyard, those ways we were ‘supposed’ to act for the sake of the group. In his book The Creative Act, producer Rick Rubin says:

“Rules direct us to average behaviors. If we're aiming to create works that are exceptional, most rules don't apply. Average is nothing to aspire to. The goal is not to fit in. If anything, it's to amplify the differences, what doesn't fit, the special characteristics unique to how you see the world. Instead of sounding like others, value your own voice. Develop it. Cherish it.”

Rubin has worked with some notorious weirdos (i.e. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Lady Gaga, Kanye), and their success backs this up. What he’s saying, however, doesn’t only apply to art—it’s a way of being.

It took a while, but eventually I got a whole lot more comfortable straying from the crowd, being different. I didn’t fully understand what changed until years later, when my friend Jackson explained the process: learn to love yourself.

Learn to love yourself. That’s everything, isn’t it?

Not everyone has gotten there in their heart of hearts—I’m still working on it—but in the meantime, I think it starts by simply being kind to yourself.

I know one thing for sure, though: if you love yourself, you don’t want to disappear. And if you don’t want to disappear, well, you’re not normal.

Here’s to my fellow weirdos.

-Martin

P.S. If you know someone who’s weird (or ought to be), forward this on to them.