Normal is a setting on the Washing Machine

Today is an odd day. This time last year I was in Oklahoma City attending my friend Kali's funeral. We were both art majors and good buddies (yep, I may be gay, but I slept with her; human sexuality is very fluid).
I've decided that I no longer want to be nice. "Nice" has latin roots stemming from "ignorant" and "easily fooled." I want to be kind. Also I want to nurture, but how does one do that without coddleling? How does one be kind and not nice?
In my last two years in college I became obsessed with art and art history. I met Kali in the halls of the department. I lived in the art building, I spent about 60 hours a week working on my craft . Kali was also there nights, weekends, late nights, and after the building had been locked up painting away. On Friday and Saturday nights we would sneak in with booze and get hammered, paint, and blast Led Zephlin, AC/DC, Metalica, Hank Williams, the Young Doubliners, Sex Pistols, Ramones, Who, and the Cure and run mindlessly through the building. We even quit smoking together. I miss her smell, a mixture of tobacco, linseed oil, mineral spirits, and lavender. I graduated this in May last year. The ceremony was the last time I saw Kali. The next day she drove back to OK City. Leaving Durango at 4pm she estimating that she would get back to OK city at 3-4 am. She never made it. 30 miles from the city limits in Oklahoma she fell asleep at the wheel and rolled into oncoming traffic. Kali lingered for a week in coma with the crown of her skull removed to accommodate her swelling skull. A week later I moped into to the art building to clean out my locker. Inside my locker she had left me a self portrait to remember her by, with a simple note that said "Love Always, Kali." Needless to say I balled like a little girl who just learned the truth about Santa Clause that night.

I don't get pissed often. Today I was severely annoyed. I rearranged my whole weekend schedule to have today free to hang out. Alas, I was ditched, or forgotten, or what ever. I don't mind having people cancel plans, but, umm could you give me a heads up? Thnnks for being considerate of my time.
Anyway, I had the day open for the trite yet pithy introspective. Yesterday I met a guy who was born in the same hospital as me, 15 hours apart. I hate to compare myself to other people my same age. Life accomplishment aren't easily measured with calipers and rulers. No one begins at the same location. With that said, sometimes, I am a little proud of myself. I think Everyone has a sob story they can tell, some are more horrific than others. I'm dyslexic, with learning disabilities, an alcoholic parent, all while be neglected as a child. Perhaps I am fucked up, but not in ways that hurt others. I've learned to compensate, I've learned how to make them my strengths. With the dislexia/learning disabilities thing it made me have to prove myself in school. Perhaps that's why I'm chasing a Master's in education, and not just getting certification at metro state college. I love my father. I'm proud that he was able to eventually quit drinking. Learning how to survive with a belligerent alcoholic and the dysfunctional family situations that circles it has made me more astute at watching an gauging human behavior. Ask any adult children of alcoholics, it's a survival skill. Being Neglecting sucks. When I was younger I had a lot of problems with social skills (I probably still do). I did however have to entertain myself, learn to keep myself happy, and cook.
My eccentricity comes as an amalgeration of all these factors. I think because I used to go around thinking I was fucked up made me look at myself objectively and really examine my insides. Too many people are afraid to look (And I can smell it, he-he) I used to always wish I was normal. I think thought normal is only a setting on the washing machine.
Ok enough for ego-centric rambles.