On weirdness

Last night I tweeted “If your friends think you’re weird… get new friends.”

A lot of people commented, many along the lines of “I’m only friends with weird people” and such like. I though I should take the time to explain what I meant.

It’s my fault really, I forgot that many if the people I know have been in the same place I have. Forced by life and circumstance to grow up with people who view any kind of deviation from the norm, any weirdness, as something to be reviled. So we take weird as a badge of honour and wear it with pride.

I wasn’t saying weird was bad I was saying people who think it is are. I moved hundreds if miles away from where I grew up and have never felt the urge to go back. I was lucky to have great open minded parents and a brother who I couldn’t stand and I now love deeply. But I couldn’t stand it down there again.

I’m rambling, I do that sometimes, the point I was trying to make was you can choose your friends, don’t choose those who want to hurt to because they don’t understand you.

11 years ago my mother died. Her funeral packed out the village church and the party afterwards filled our pub to bursting. She had a knack for making friends but didn’t judge them. I miss her still… this last year has been “interesting” and things are starting to look up. I know she’d accept my decisions and give me a hug when I needed it.

So pick your friends and tell those who wish to judge you to fuck off and have fun. Enjoy your life, it goes all too soon.

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