Everyone thinks they are normal
I had no clue what I was going to write about this evening, but then read a stream of comments on Tumblr about choices of pizza, and start writing this nonsensical, disjointed post about nothing in particular. I don't even know where to start.
Pizza? People? People watching? Maybe I should describe the argument first.
Person A
If we are ordering pizza and one of my friends suggests a veggie pizza, they better damn well only eat that one, and not take any of the others
Person B
I'm a veggie, and if I order a pizza, you meat guys better not take any of my damn pizza.
Person C
If any of you order Hawaiian, you eat the whole damn thing, and don't touch anybody elses.
Person D
I LOVE HAWAIIAN – I'll have all the pineapple just to make sure you don't have any of mine then.
... and so the argument went on – and on – and on.
It struck me immediately how amusing it is that so many people live in a weird bubble where they presume everybody else has the same opinions, tastes, ideals, thoughts, and life story as them, and are taken aback when the truth of the world confronts them. Maybe we should actually call it the “bubble of presumption”.
Religious people are often the same way – because a large proportion of people practiceone religion or another, and large numbers in local areas invariablypracticethe same religion, the bubble of presumption sets in pretty quickly.
A friend of mine got baptised many years ago – as an adult – and we went along to lend support. He invited me even though he knew I thought it was all ridiculous, and I went because he was my friend – and if he wanted to believe in this stuff, fine.The thing that made me smile back then – and I have been reminded about today – was the speech he made.
He admitted straight up that his main reasoning for being there was because so many of his friends were already there – and that provided validation for him.
Anyway... this isn't really about religion. It's about people, and the way they behave – they way they tend to congregate around shared views and opinions, and presume others share them too.
I'm always reminded of the Good Will Hunting speech about differences;
Will, she's been dead two years and that's the shit I remember. Wonderful stuff, you know, little things like that. Ah, but, those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That's what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me, too, she knew all my little peccadillos. People call these things imperfections, but they're not, aw, that's the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let in to our weird little worlds. You're not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense. This girl you met, she isn't perfect either. But the question is: whether or not you're perfect for each other. That's the whole deal.