I Think I’m Normal

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Last week I posted about having been checked out. I convinced myself that being isolated for the past six months while writing my book had changed me. The chemical composition of my brain must have reworked itself. There’s no way I’m equipped for social interaction any longer. I can’t feel real people emotions. I didn’t actually think these things, but it was clear that I needed to do something. Sitting by yourself in a room, jabbing away at a keyboard for hours on end isn’t ‘normal.’ Getting out into the world around other people would refuel my brain and recharge my creativity.

What I did to convince myself that I’m still capable of feeling emotion probably sounds crazy to most people. I spent a total of fourteen hours – ten hours on three greyhound buses and four hours in terminals – to travel a distance greater than 450 miles from my hometown in southern West Virginia to Morgantown, just across the Pennsylvania border from Pittsburgh. A trip that would have taken less than three hours on a straight shot took me around to Columbus and up to Pittsburgh before finally arriving at my destination. I could write a three book horror series on the bus ride alone, but that’s a blog for another day. The point is that I got to tell stories, laugh, eat, and drink with a group of some of my best friends.

I’d already planned on taking the trip up to the WVU Spring Game a couple weeks ago, but gave up on making it when all of my potential rides let me know they were committed to work. “Whatever… I’ll hitchhike,” I said. “It’ll be an adventure.” I had my bag packed on Thursday and was ready to hit the road Friday morning until I saw the weather forecast – sixty percent chance of rain most of Friday. I’ve never hitchhiked, but I have been stuck in rain and I can tell you that you don’t want to hitchhike in rain. You don’t want to do anything in rain besides take a nap under a tin roof, and even then you’re not actually in it.

I was really disappointed that I couldn’t make it. I was also somewhat relieved, because who actually wants to hitchhike? You may be asking who wants to ride on a bus for fourteen hours to a location that could be reached in two hours and thirty minutes by car. I didn’t want to, let me remind you – I had to. At least I thought I did. The Spring Game tailgate was most likely the last time I would see this many of my college friends together. The seniors are graduating next month and (most of) the graduates have jobs. This, combined with the realization that I’ve been in emotional hibernation for the last half-year, was enough reason to buy a ticket at 5:00 PM on Thursday and jump on the bus five hours later. I made it to Morgantown just before 1:00 PM on Friday and after a one hour nap got started on the best weekend I’ve had since before graduation.

Fast forward to right now – I spent the week with my mom, sister, and stepdad in order to drive back to my grandmother’s today for Easter weekend. What you need to understand about this situation is that my mom works 9 to 5, my sister goes to school, and my stepdad is retired. Essentially I sat around on the couch listening to this guy speak just to hear his own voice. No matter how focused I tried to make myself look, I couldn’t read a book or watch an episode of Seinfeld without him trying to tell me about the tankless water heater he put in or how many hundreds of pounds of meat he has in the freezer. I can’t take a single thing he says seriously after he told me he heard on the news that there was “talk about Parkersburg getting an NFL stadium.” You don’t have to know anything about Parkersburg or much about West Virginia to understand that the NFL is never coming here.

Bashing this man isn’t solely due to him being an annoying lunatic – some of it’s about me. On my quest to reassure myself that I’m a normal, social creature I spent fourteen hours with my knees rubbing against course Greyhound seat fabric, slept two nights on three futon couch cushions, drank more beer and laughed longer than I have in ages, and spent five days with my crazed stepfather to come to this realization: I need to be alone. I don’t need to see my family and friends all the time. In fact I don’t want to. I don’t need to go out and do something every night of the week to try to feel ‘normal,’ like I’m not a hermit. I’ve realized that I love being a hermit. That’s ‘normal’ to me.

As for my ‘emotional hibernation’ and the reason for my quest – I don’t need to be out in the world, around other people in order to feel emotion. My writing is emotion. What I feel is transferred to page, not the other way around. I thought my writing was controlling me by fooling me into thinking I had everything under control. The only thing I have under control is what I write. I’m not going to use this as an excuse to sit in isolation for the rest of my life, but rather as a reminder that I’m no different than anyone else – we all have the same problems. We all question ourselves and deal with the same doubt. It’s up to you to get past this and figure out who you are. This is me.

“It’s not all bad. Heightened self-consciousness, apartness, an inability to join in, physical shame and self-loathing—they are not all bad. Those devils have been my angels. Without them I would never have disappeared into language, literature, the mind, laughter and all the mad intensities that made and unmade me.” – Stephen Fry

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