To be perceived as nice crazy.

Now and then, someone tells me they are shocked by what I have to say. Suggesting that I be more restrained. Less opinionated. That I shouldn’t call anyone ‘crazy.’ Or ridicule or poke fun at Republicans. But still, I persist. Maybe because I use self-ridicule. Often. And I have no qualms about labeling myself crazy. Nuts. Daffy. Because I am. In my own peculiar ways. I don’t wanna be normal. I actually think it’s good to be crazy. For instance, crazy in love. I like crazy people. Such as my true love. She’d have to be sort of crazy to link up with me. Because I’m a continually evolving romantic idealist. A free-thinker and a liberal, too. I make life interesting. For myself. And others. In some admittedly crazy ways. Nice crazy. There’s a difference between nice crazy and not-so-nice crazy. I practice nice crazy. Which is possible. Especially when one has positive and optimistic attitudes. And a sense of humor. That allows one to break away from rigid rules. To be perceived as crazy. Nice crazy. –Jim Broede