Here’s a phrase I have heard too many times to count – “Yeah but, what is normal?”

That line takes me back to the days when, although I was clearly not ‘normal’ – in appearance, speech, manner and, well, just about every other facet of humanness (and although spellcheck is not, I am definitely questioning the validity of that word) – at those times when a frequently occurring bought of despondency had me low enough that I could be heard slurring utterances regarding my desire to be ‘normal’ again (similarly, I guess, to the way that Pinocchio used to crap on about wanting to be a ‘real boy’, and look how that worked out for him), that, the aforementioned sentence, in between laughter, boozing, shenanigans, and other aspects of youthful frivolity from my peers, is what I would usually hear.

Realistically, ‘normalcy’ is the portrayal of what the majority of folk would consider normal (and although, in my perception, ‘normalcy’ is somewhat nuanced from ‘normality’, in the sense that, where ‘normalcy’ is the basic act of being normal, ‘normality’ relates to an atypical situation having since reverted to normal; yet, no. Apparently, I am wrong. I must have invented that in my sleep or something. Turns out there is no difference – normalcy, normality, tomatoes, tomatoes, you know).

Trouble is, that line, that grotesque cliché languishing right there at the top of the page mocking me with its hackney, is nothing but a pseudo-profound piece of shit recited by the kinds of people who, although they could appreciate that the subject’s (my) actions may have been far from conventional – so much so, in fact, that those actions were leaning more towards the realm of ‘inappropriate’ than not – the subject is/was/probably will again one-day-be-but-maybe-not, very dear to the speaker (them) thus the speaker is wary of hurting the subject’s feelings because so much has passed between the subject and the speaker so when that day comes where the subject is genuinely normal again (probably will again one-day-be-but-maybe-not), the speaker wants to be there to welcome the subject back into the real world with open arms and other clichés (also perhaps apologise for the years’ of bullshit sycophantism that they fed the subject on the basis that, presumably, he was too frail to cope with the reality of life; that is, despite being forced to endure that exact debacle every Goddamned day of his life).

Normalcy, normality. Huh, so, turns out they’ve identical meanings. What a bust; really thought I was onto something there. See, I was going to write this extensive article about how ‘living amid a life of normalcy isn’t always conducive to an existence of normality’, or how ‘quantity in life will not always supersede quality of life’ and other pseudo-profound, preachy crap like that. It was going to be awesome; was really going to exemplify my own humanness, you know?

Ah screw it.

Ultimately, ‘normalcy’ is being real, being true, being good and, in my opinion, being honest. ‘Normalcy’ is not striving to be the same as everyone else, because that shit’s lame; it smacks of weakness of character and anyway, why would anybody want to do that – want to be that way – be the same?

To perceive someone struggling away, trying but failing to portray their intended quota of ‘normalcy/ity’, then trying to convince/reassure them anyway that they are normal (or worse, asking them something vacuous like ‘What is normal, anyway?’), well, that shit’s tired, overdone, and equally as lame as the above; most likely these struggling folk are quite aware they are not normal and probably, they are just quietly trying to reach their norm, in their own time, and on their own terms.

Or not. Who am I to say? I’m not normal and likely never will be; shit, I embrace the weirdo lifestyle.

Honestly, I gave up caring how I was perceived a long time ago.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Wie B Striven-Four

Photography by Norm Al Cee