Finding the Fool in You

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  I am crazy and so are you.  There is no escaping it.  It’s a fact. Crazy is all around us.  It’s in our blood.  It's in our DNA.  It's written in the book of our lives.  We can’t help it.  We are all crazy.


It was almost  a year ago when I admitted my own insanity.  And since then, my life has been better because of it.  No more thinking inside the box.  Now I get to paint the box with rainbows and unicorns and pretend that it's my castle.  All because I am crazy... and so are you. 

Now I know what you are thinking.  You are saying, “Hey, I am NOT crazy.”  I hear you.  I understand.  I commiserate.  You are delusional.

The fact is, you are not normal.  I know this because I know you.  And if I know you, you must  be crazy.  See how it works? It's like Alfred Adler said, "The only normal people are the one's you don't know very well." 

It’s OK with me if you are not ready to confront your inner fool.  You wear your denial well. But, take it from me; admitting that you are insane will be your first step toward happiness.  When you are ready to be honest with yourself and to face the facts, let me know.  We’ll talk.  We'll laugh.  We'll order some Chinese take out. 

Unlike you, I have embraced my madness.  I relish in my alternate reality.  I am in tune with my insanity.  It’s liberating to know that I am badly dressed, not because I have poor taste.  Rather I am dressed like this because, through my neurosis, I believe myself to be beautifully adorned.  You see, it’s not my fault.  I am crazy.

Crazy also gives me an excuse, I mean explanation, for my messy car.  The crumpled McDonald’s bags sliding off the back seat. The moldy, half-filled cups of coffee in the tray.  The pennies scattered on the floor.  They are not there because I am lazy, or untidy.  They are there because I am crazy.  If I were sane, my car would be clean.  See how convenient it is.

Because I am crazy, I can play hop scotch in the swimming pool.  I can pretend to be a Princess or a Power Ranger.  I can talk to the flowers and the birds.  It's OK.  That's just the crazy lady who lives next door, the neighbors will say. 

Crazy is my answer to everything.  Need to exercise more?  Can’t, I’m crazy.  Need to wake up early? No, it isn’t good for my crazy.  Can you help me move this couch? Sorry, not right now, my crazy is having a flare up.  Whatever the project, whatever the problem, I can avoid it just by being crazy. Crazy is powerful stuff.

You are still not convinced, I can tell.  What is it?  The label?  You don’t like being branded as bizarre?

Well consider this.  In the game of life, we all wear labels.  Mother.  Father.  Sister. Brother.  Our friends and neighbors pick the labels that we wear without even consulting us.  At least with crazy, we get to choose the tag that fits us best.  You can consider, for example, peculiar.  Or eccentric.  Or extreme.  Any will fit.  All will do.  And you get to choose which to wear, which will fit you best.  Personally, I prefer mad as a hatter as it reminds me of Alice and her trip down the rabbit hole. 

Plus, there are many labels that you could wear that are much worse than crazy.  Like “incorrigible.”  Or “unreliable.”  Or “100% Acrylic.”  Or “dull.”  When compared to these, crazy is not quiet as dreadful.  It’s just like Marilyn Monroe said, “Imperfection is beauty; madness is genius. And it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”

So join me my friend.  Resolve today to lead a ridiculous life.  Be bizarre.  Act outlandish.  Welcome the weirdness inside of you.  And be the fool you were born to be.