Today would be my third day of battling this damn cold. For the moment, I'm fatigued. I'm congested. My eyeballs hurt. I keep coughing. I've been experiencing what I would consider to be recurring sneeze attacks (where I sneeze at least three times in rapid succession). My head feels like it wants to hurt. I'm surrounded by piles of use Kleenex. I'm hopped up on all kinds of daytime cold medication, as well as Tylenol. I can't readily say that all this medication is working, at least not physically, but in my head, I want to say that this medication is working wonders on my symptoms. Maybe in some way, I'm conflicted? Regardless, I don't feel good.
Being sick is not my normal. I'm rarely sick as it is. So as tends to be the case when I am sick and the cold or whatever illness that has come over me is doing its thing, I can't help but think that for the time that I'm sick and otherwise "out of it", in some way, I'm suspended in time. Life is going on all around me, but because I'm not right, life and the world around me are just passing me by. For the moment, I am on the sidelines, watching life go on all around me. I actually don't mind it, in that I have a valid excuse for whatever it is I can't do or whatever it is that I am physically unable to do. It's a break of sorts, I suppose, a much needed one at that.
Jay wanted to play Battlefield 6 this afternoon, but I didn't feel up to it. Funny enough, I'd be more than willing to play the game by myself, but because I don't feel good and I'm of the mindset that even talking could potentially drain what little energy I have left, I don't want to don my headset and play the game while having to be engaged in the game's voice chat. I don't even sound like myself, so I'm thinking that my voice is probably all messed up from what it normally is. I'd prefer to play the game on my own and without being on any kind of game chat. I told Jay that I'm sick. Being that he's a nurse, I trust that he'll understand.
I guess I should be grateful that I'm at least healthy enough to play my video games and clearly, I'm still very much able to get some writing done.
User "Sleepy-Eyed John" provided the following quote in one of his recent entries:
‘Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.’ - Albert Camus.
I don't know the context or reason behind his motivation for posting this quote. I don't even follow this user religiously, as much as apparently, I'll read anyone's entries when they're on the prosebox front page. Still, seeing this quote made me think. From time to time, there are instances where I'll think about things. Because I have all this down time with my being sick and all, I figured that I'd jot down some thoughts about this whole idea of being normal. I'm not going anywhere. I don't have that kind of energy at the moment, but what I can do is have fingers grace this here keyboard.
I'm not normal and I never have been. I have always embraced being different, so in that regard, I'm not expending anything even remotely resembling tremendous energy for the sake of presenting as being normal. Now, I will admit that when I am at work, I will pretend to be extroverted and talkative, because at my place of employment, introverts tend to be ridiculed, so when I'm there, I will put up a false front. I'm not expelling any extra energy to do it, as much as I'm putting on a show because I'm getting paid to do it.
"Money makes the monkey dance", as Grandma used to say. I get paid well enough, so playing such games are essentially part of my weekday normal and I'm used to it and I do it well.
I don't want to be normal anyway. I already have some stuff about me that, at least to me, automatically disqualifies from ever being normal and which effectively places me in a perpetual out-group. Let me think. How am I different?
Like Toni Braxton, let me count the ways. Off the top of my head, I come up with five.
--I'm left-handed.
--I think that writing is fun and I write as a form of recreation.
--I'm introverted.
--I'm embrace being different and I don't care to ever fit in.
--I am eloquent. The way that I write is exactly the way that I speak.
Fuck being normal. That takes too much effort and I'm not willing to devote the energy it might take to convince others that I'm normal or that I fit their definition of normal. I just don't care that much to put up that kind of facade. Now, if I'm getting paid to fake it, I'm open to considering it, but for the most part, I'm just going to be myself. It may not be your normal, but it is mine. You can either take it or leave it.
In the meantime, I feel another sneeze attack coming. Clearly, I'm nowhere near getting better.
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