All I've Never Wanted Is To Live A Normal Life

So we’ve heard it a million times before. That totally sexy, completely kick-ass guy or gal that spends their time doing all those exciting, heroic deeds – but wishes for something, well… less. I grew up on a diet of Harry Potter, Lord of The Rings, Avatar (Last Airbender, not those blue dudes), not to mention the X-Men franchise and countless other superheroes (Marvel > DC all the way). So really, I spent years expecting an owl or a radio-active spider bite, and hoping for my slayer powers to activate (which, you know, could still happen any day now). Finally, after I begrudgingly accepted that just maybe it wasn’t gonna happen, I started noticing the pattern. This completely foreign-to-me desire that all these people have for normalcy.

Frodo wishes the ring had never come to him. Harry wishes that he could just grow up without so much pressure. Pretty much every Superhero you can name has had some kind of “I wish I could just be average” moment (except Bruce Wayne Batman. I think he kinda likes that utility belt a little too much. Oh wait, unless you count the Christopher Nolan trilogy. Well, just the last one actually. I mean, can you blame him wanting to run off with Anne Hathaway? Not that I – ok, let’s stop there, huh?) Anyways, this really got me wondering just what’s so damn good about being “normal”. I spent years wishing for my normal to just buzz off!

Then, I suddenly realized that the reason I hated normality so much was because I found it really boring. What I was really chasing was the excitement, the adrenalin kick that I associated with being like any number of characters from books and movies. So now I had something to aim for. During high school, I took drama classes. The idea behind doing this was that if I couldn’t actually have crazy awesome powers, or be an awesome action hero, then I could at least spend my time acting like one. That was alright for a while, but I’m not exactly a very good actor, and besides, I was a little too shy to think that I could ever make a living out of acting. So there went that plan.

Then, last year I started Uni. Finally, a chance to study towards some exciting degree, a chance to pave out a life full of crime fighting and life saving! So that didn’t happen. I had real trouble trying to work out what I wanted. I started the year in Psychology, thinking that in four years time I might be able to specialize in forensics, and join some team, just like the BAU in Criminal Minds! So then I did more research and found out that in Australia (yeah, that’s where I am, don’t hold it against me, it’s actually a really nice place) there’s only like ten forensic psychologists… and only like two of them work in profiling. Now, before you think that I’m a complete ditzo, I need to say that I did already mostly realize this. I was quite prepared to face this reality, because I thought that working in some other field of psychology would be exciting enough anyway. And the course was interesting, honestly, it was. But I began to realize that I was in the wrong place, that this was not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

So there went attempt one. This wasn’t the first occupation that I thought I’d like because it was exciting either. Earlier in life I was convinced I’d join the army (despite the fact that I am an extreme pacifist… at least where killing is concerned), and then I decided that I just had to join the police force. It’s safe to assume here that neither came to pass.

Next, I tried a Communications degree, you know, because I still had this crazy idea that if  couldn’t actually do something exciting myself, I could at least create something exciting for others to share. Movies, in other words. I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve always found that when I do write, I can picture more than just the words, I can see the scene, I can hear the music that would be playing, I can feel smell the air, feel the emotions. Big whoop right? I mean, pretty much any writer can do that. But most other writers aren’t terrified to have other people criticize their work. Ok, maybe they are. But I have a habit of not presenting work that I really like, that I really think is good, because I’m scared that other people are gonna tell me that it’s not. So, there went Communications.
I should probably say right now that my leaving both of these degrees sounds a lot shallower than it really is, because in actual fact, I think that my starting both of these degrees was the shallow thing. I went into both with some romanticized idea of what my future would be like, not because I knew what the courses would be, and not because I knew that I would like them.

So, this started as a rant about “normal” and turned into a personal anecdote, but I swear it’s about to have an actual message. To be honest, when I started writing this, I had no real clue as to where it was going, but now I think I see it, so bear with me.

This year, I’m trying something new yet again, but this time it’s different (I hope), because this time it’s something I actually want to do, and not something that I’m doing to try to change myself, or make life exciting. This year, I’m studying to be a teacher. Primary school, not high school, because gosh I have enough of my own worries and anxieties, without trying to help a bunch of other people try to cope with theirs. Besides, I’ve got a few friends doing studying to teach in high school, and I’m sure they’ll do a better job than I ever would.

And the funny thing is, as soon as I accepted that my life was gonna be totally normal forever, I kinda realized that it wasn’t anyway (naww, soppy much). I have a bunch of super great friends (well… I say bunch, I probably mean handful, but too many means too many names to remember anyway, yeah?) who are always ready to go on exciting adventures with me, and I’ve always got my writing. I can tell stories of my ‘adventures’ and have them go however I want them to. I can be as exciting as I want.

So there. I don’t really know what normal is. I guess I don’t really care, because I can choose to be as normal or abnormal as I want. And I guess that’s why I started this blog. Because here, I don’t have to be a nineteen year old Aussie who only ever dreams of being someone awesome. I can be whoever and however I want, and I hope that other people realize that too (and stop getting depression because they  get told that Pandora isn’t a real planet and we can’t really go there. I didn’t get like that, by the way, cause I didn’t really care. I just think it’s crazy that people can get that bad. I mean, sure, the real world isn’t always a picnic, but seriously).

And, you know, if all my writing and daring adventuring doesn’t work, I’ve got a friend who says he can hook me up with some kind of secret government project over in America. Got some kind of wacky name: Treadstone or Blackbriar or something. He says it looks real safe, and should have a real future. Yeah, maybe I’ll try that!

Stay abnormal everyone,
Centi out.