I’ve been thinking about sanity lately. Specifically, what is it? Something that is completely rational to one man can be horrifyingly irrational to another. So which standard do we use to define sanity? Which man gets to point his finger at the other and holler “up yours, nutty wanker“?
I just don’t know.
But even without a definition or a clear delineation of sanity, I’ve decided that I’m half crazy. This is, in my mind, a good compromise. I mean, the sane half of my mind knows right from wrong and good from evil and helpful from harmful. Also, I’m good at math.
But that other half, the insane half, talks to tomato plants, names inanimate objects, insists on screaming into the void unanswered, and blogs. Also, I’m good at math.
I haven’t come to any real conclusion about sanity. And I really can’t tell which man is crazy and which man is entitled to holler at the other for it. I do know that the people society calls crazy seem to be more fun than the people society calls sane.
Isn’t sanity just a one trick pony anyway? All you get is that one trick: rational thinking. But when you’re good and crazy, well, the sky’s the limit!
— The Tick
Perhaps sanity isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.
LATER: I was thinking about this post. And I think this perhaps is a very Southern attitude. We aren’t ashamed of our crazy relatives own here. We don’t lock our crazies in the attic or in institutions down here. No sir. We dust off our crazies, prop them up, and let them entertain our guests in the parlour while we’re making cucumber sandwiches and mint juleps in the kitchen.
Do people in other regions direct such a fond eye toward their crazy relations?