[Seth Says] Revel In Thy Weirditude!
"How'd your date go with the quantum physicist?"
"I was hoping she'd be charmed, but she just thought I was strange."
I was considering starting this newsletter by asking what a Quantum Duck says ("Quark Quark!"), but realized the strange would be more on topic. (Of course I had to start this newsletter with a quantum physics joke.)(I considered a radioactive dating joke, but I don't have a life or even a half-life.)(besides, you didn't sign up for an email nukesletter)(yes I know things aside from nuclear bombs are radioactive, we all use microwaves)(waving with your whole arm is too much effort)
My thoughts are on strangeness of late because I have had the great pleasure of catching up with a few old friends over the past few weeks, and there are few things (Few few few!)(please pronounce like “Pew pew pew!”)(“It's Fefe le Few, your favorite fkunk!”) more enjoyable than reconnecting with someone where you can immediately fall back into your old nonsense. It will come as no surprise (as opposed to a pop-up Japanese theatre performance, which comes as Noh surprise) that I am a big fan of nonsense, and I am especially a fan of shared nonsense (as long as it doesn't harm others).
LET ME SHARE MY NONSENSE
For the same reason inside jokes are always the funniest, shared nonsense is a special and wonderful thing not just because laughter is good for the soul (which it is), but because shared nonsense lets you revel in the immediate, the absurdity (laudatory) that you're adding to an absurd (derogatory) universe, your shared connection with other human beings (suck it ChatGPT), and the ultimate glorious joy of getting to be your weird self and being appreciated for it rather than asked (aloud or otherwise) to be a little bit less.
Over the past month this has especially been on my mind, because one of the main benefits of having friends in the first place is that they are people who appreciate your nonsense. I say "benefits", but I might actually mean "definitions". ("Hey, wanna be friends with definitions?") Because in conversations with friends I've heard this idea reflected in various ways, with the idea that friends are those who accept your faults, to whom you don't have to explain yourself, and who instead of asking you to be a bit less, maybe even encourage you to be even more yourself. People with whom you could probably pick up after a long period of no contact, and fall right back into comfortable nonsense (he said coincidentally in the newsletter whose primary audience is probably "friends I haven't seen in a long time").
But it's that appreciation for someone else's nonsense that IMO is a key thing in a friend, and even moreso in a partner.
I SORTA LIKE FLAG TALK
I'm semi-for semaphore.
I've come around to the idea that one of the biggest red flags in a relationship is someone who wants you to diminish yourself, your weirdness, your creative impulses, your dreams, etc., to fit into the tiny box they have allotted you in the support plinth of their glorious existence. Someone who tells you (aloud or otherwise) "Don't be you, just be normal," should go date normal instead, since they clearly don't appreciate you.
So let your freak flag fly, and consider it a green flag when you find the people who appreciate that. And also speaking of high-flying flags (Christmas or otherwise), happy Pride month from all of us here at the inside of my brain. I think at this point in spite of being a cis straight dude, more of my favorite people are LGBTQ+ than not. (In fairness, that is a lot of letters.) So keep being your wonderful selves and don't let the bastards get you down.
For that matter, don't let your friends get you down either. (Hide you down in pillow, keep you pillow safe on bed, bastards and friends not get you down.)(advice for people of all ganders.)(I am a silly goose)
HONK HONK, HONK
Gotta horn in here with this week's column, because friends and partners are all well and good, but the most important person to appreciate you for being you is you (Yew yew yew!):
A wise man once said, "Comparing yourself to others is a path to unhappiness."
I wish I were as smart as that guy, because I compare myself to others all the time. It's hard not to, when social media and online news give us a 24-hour-a-day drip feed of other people's lives and achievements. And it can be frustrating to go online and read about how Jeff Bezos is enjoying his $500 million mega-yacht, when most Americans can only afford a $5 million mini-yacht. (Exact data is hard to find, so this statistic was extrapolated based on the presumption that US tax policy is written to benefit the average American.)
...
It's only natural that we will occasionally look with wonder upon the lifestyles of the rich and famous, especially if we grew up in the 80s watching Robin Leach. But we don't generally criticize ourselves for not living in a solid gold mansion or selling out arena concerts. No, what really corrodes your soul is constantly comparing yourself to your peers and deciding that you are a failure for not matching their successes.
Inconveniently, I have a number of unreasonably talented friends who have achieved far too much, making it very easy to compare myself unfavorably. They've been bettering their communities, attaining professorships, influencing policy, and gaining national recognition and awards for everything from teaching to music composition... while I've been writing jokes about things like what the broccoli said to his getaway driver. ("Floret!")
But a friend's success should inspire us, not depress us. It's cool to have cool friends! And the ridiculous thing about comparing yourself to others is that sometimes you can make yourself feel bad for not building a life you didn't want in the first place. "I haven't accomplished anything," you tell yourself, "and wish I'd been more like Sally who got tenure at Harvard and started a cat rescue", never mind that you are allergic to cats and teenagers.
...
Even last month when I set myself a goal of walking a mile a day - a goal at which I was only 80% successful - I berated myself that my marathon-running friends run farther in one day than I managed to walk all month. Demoralizing!
My main point is, I unironically love that broccoli joke and I am going to reuse it every chance I get for the rest of my life.
EXIT STAGE LEFT
(A fine graphic novel, speaking of Pride month.) That wraps up this week's edition of Silly Goose and Quantum Duck Go Quantity Surveying. As always, I thank you for reading, will be back in two weeks with another column, and whether you're at Williams Reunion (feel free to say hi!) or having a quiet weekend at home, may you find yourself enjoying the company of people who appreciate your nonsense.
Honk Honk Quark Quark,
Seth