Something just struck me. Like the kiss on the end of a wet fist, as they say.
I am a certain amount of crazy. I’ve always been a bit looped; it’s something I came by honestly (thanks, Dad), and something that I nurtured as a child, not knowing just how dangerous it could become.
And here I am, struggling to stay calm in a huge, monolithic corporate environment. It’s a fucking nightmare, some days. (Others, it’s quite nice. Hmmm, I experience ups and downs… hmmmm…)
I have fluctuated from wildy successful to not-so-successful here. And it just occurred to me that my success seems to vary partially by how crazy the people I’m working with are.
Here’s the way it works:
When I work with really crazy fuckers, I understand them, and can talk to other people about where they are coming from. Also, them being really crazy makes my neuroses seem mild. Thus, people cling to me like a life-preserver. “Save us! You understand these fuckers! Go… make them stop or something!” And I do.
But, when I’m working with normal people, well…
…I stick out. Badly. And, it makes me want to turtle or hermit or explode or something. The thing I want the most is to be understood, and normals have no ability to comprehend where I’m coming from. My dynamo runs just way too fast for most people to handle. Its whine makes them afraid, and so they would prefer not to have to deal with me.
Shit, sometimes I’d prefer not to have to deal with me.
So, back to the point: I succeed when I work in the fucking looney bin. I hate it, but a certain part of me likes it, because deep down, I know that I’m just one step away from that, myself, and I prefer looks of comprehension to looks of fear. By a very wide margin.