A much younger Lingo in Prestatyn U.K.
I recently made peace with the fact that I am not normal and never really have been. I am infact so far from normal that I wouldn’t even know how to get there even if I wanted to. Normal (for the purpose of this blog entry) meaning “like others”, in the sense of living my life in accordance to what the status quo is and in a way that would make mom proud.
Sometimes I wonder if the fact that my daughters have only ever been exposed to house music, acid jazz and rock will screw them up. They don’t know all those little nursery rhymes that kids are supposed to know, but they get pretty damn excited when i’m crankin’ Jamiroquai on the way to daycare. And why is it that I get looks from people when i’m driving in my car with the girlies and the tunes cranked, windows open singing and groovin’…. Do people think that this is child abuse?
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever not want any more tattoos and find that magical number of contentment. I wonder if I will ever give up on writing bizarre, disturbing and sexually charged fiction, poetry, and lyrics. Will I ever fit in at the office by being that person who is much better at my job than I am? Maybe even show up on time… Crazy talk!
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever tone down my wardrobe and start shopping at The Gap. Maybe buy some shirts that don’t expose any cleavage, don’t have any controversial or saucy sayings on them, and can be found in every colour imagineable.
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever stop questioning authority and finding beauty in flaw. Or will I ever stop seeking truth and be willing to sacrifice anything and everything to get to it.
I think my mind would be a much friendlier and tranquil place if I learned to accept and embrace normality. Unfortunately, I don’t think that will ever happen. So I need to meditate.
You know what I think?….
I am gonna end up being of those crazy old ladies who has 20 cats (okay, maybe 10… and ALL black), I will still be dying my hair some funky colour, I will relentlessly resist the cropped white perm look. I will not wear orthopedic shoes… I’ll still be rockin’ the pumas and strappy heels. I’ll still be dancing, the music won’t stop for me, ever! I’ll still be writing fucked up shit. I’ll still be questioning authority. I’ll still be creating art. I’ll still be hoping my daughters don’t blame me for their lack of a normal upbringing. I will still be me. I don’t know how to be anything else.