A Quote by Jacque Fresco
So, "normal" is really what society dictates as normal and if we're born in that world, we would see that as normal. But if you think about it for a second, is it really?
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Returning to South Carolina meant getting a normal job in a normal town with normal people and marrying a normal person. I wanted the glamour and opportunity of the world.
I have been shocked at some senior actors who made lewd comments on my body. They think it is normal, and in fact, I thought it was normal. But, much later, I failed to see how that is a normal thing.
Normal! He thought. Normal! I don't want things to be normal. Normal is always being left out, never belonging.
I have a really, really, really normal family. And by normal I mean we're all nuts on some level. I think you've gotta be a little nuts to pursue any kind of creative job. I was also a really good kid. I know that sounds really dull, but I didn't rebel in the traditional sense.
The condition of alienation, of being asleep, of being unconscious, of being out of one’s mind, is the condition of the normal man. Society highly values its normal man. It educates children to lose themselves and to become absurd, and thus to be normal. Normal men have killed perhaps 100,000,000 of their fellow normal men in the last fifty years.
I don't know how to have a normal relationship because I try to act normal and love from a normal place and live a normal life, but there is sort of an abnormal magnifying glass, like telescope lens, on everything that happens.
I think we live in a world where "the normal," is just a cut that each society creates for itself, but leaves out a number of situations, thoughts, and events as part of what we catalog as normal.
I call myself good crazy because I am a crazy normal. But who is normal really? Are you normal? Maybe you are, but I don't think a lot of us are normal. I think a lot of us are scared to say that we are a little crazy. I'm a little crazy that is just the way it is. I look in the mirror now and I like who is looking back at me. I am comfortable in my skin for the first time in my life. I have let a wall down.
What do you think it is to be normal?' Why in the world would you want to be?' she says. I don't know. I guess that's the problem.' I don't think normal is that great.' But so many people choose it,' I reply. I don't think that's it at all. I think most everyone is normal and some of us, for whatever reason, choose to reject that and wear ruby red slippers or old black hats.' Well, why do we choose the hard road?
I wouldn't trade the childhood we had because, A, It was normal to me, even though, in hindsight, it's not normal. It felt normal, and I think we maintained a pretty normal healthy attitude towards what we did. And B, I just wouldn't trade it, the experience that we had and the growth we've had.
I fancy you give me credit for being a more systematic sort of cove than I really am in the matter of limits of significance. What would actually happen would be that I should make out Pt (normal) and say to myself that would be about 50:1; pretty good but as it may not be normal we'd best not be too certain, or 100:1; even allowing that it may not be normal it seems good enough and whether one would be content with that or would require further work would depend on the importance of the conclusion and the difficulty of obtaining suitable experience.
I had a terrible fear of not being normal - of not seeming normal. So I went to the library and read every psychology book I could find. Anything about how normal people behave.
For about a year, when we lived at Middlewick, I couldn't really go anywhere. But the children came and went as normal - they just got on with it - and so did great friends. I would pass the time by reading a lot - more than I'd ever have been able to in a normal life.
I'm a pretty normal guy. I'm really good at knowing how a normal guy would react in situations.
The concept of time, as it’s commonly understood by normal people with normal jobs and normal goddamn lives, doesn’t exist on the road. The nights spread out like the dark, godforsaken highways that distinguish them, and the days run together like Thanksgiving dinner smothered in gravy. You never really know where you are or what time it is, and the outside world starts to fade away. It’s cool.
The real hopeless victims of mental illness are to be found among those who appear to be most normal. Many of them are normal because they are so well adjusted to our mode of existence, because their human voice has been silenced so early in their lives that they do not even struggle or suffer or develop symptoms as the neurotic does. They are normal not in what may be called the absolute sense of the word; they are normal only in relation to a profoundly abnormal society.
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