Gotta Love the Mad Ones

...the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars...

This Kerouac quote reminds me of how truly odd I am. Or more specifically, my reaction to it is what seriously raises the needle on my oddness-meter.

When I read it, I instinctively take in a deep breath and feel as if the words ride the waves of my breath and fill my entire body. After savouring each word and how they create unique meaning as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder, I exhale them and then must read the quote again. And then again. And sometimes again. As many times as necessary for me to get a “word” fix from it.

But the weirdness begins when I think about why I am so infatuated with this combination of these particular words. Together they create a manic, magical swirl of energy, passion and personal (as opposed to political) plans for revolution and creative world domination.

I want these words to represent me. But they don't, not really. In fact, I so relish times of solitude, silence, and times when productivity is not a key piece of the equation that I have often wondered about my aptitude for maintaining relationships. How will someone ever understand how important my time alone is to me?

But I desire, even crave connections with people who live these words out loud. My closest and dearest girlfriend. A sister. A son.  A new friend.

These people ignite a passion that already exists within me. Next to them, I can be odd, uncommon and burn brightly, magically even with a touch of manic-ness about the whole thing. With them, I believe in the power of revolution.  I feel as if I am finally hanging out with the cool kids. And that I can dance as if no one is watching.  I somehow give them permission to give me permission to have fun for its own sake. 

Then, I hit a wall of over-stimulation. It's all a bit too much and I need to breathe in the commonness of solitude. Boredom calls to me, invites me to crawl into bed with him and spoon until I yawn, exhale and fall deeply asleep, safely within his embrace.

Once rested and re-charged, I awake, stretch, yawn and read this quote and again feel an overwhelming need to see my friends who never say a commonplace thing!   Mad for the mad ones, go figure.