I’ve written several different ways about our tendency to choose the visually boring, usually due to a misguided belief that ‘normal’ is a real thing or that another person’s aesthetic should set our standard for us. Some of it is our growing expectation of perfection, which is laughable to me. Chaos and entropy always get the veto in our lives, yet we tread on this planet as if they don’t. Concepts of beauty, style and even art evolve. No matter how much you strive for ‘the look,’ your clothes, houses, cars and hair will all fall from fashion.

Sometimes, bland is easier, but sometimes it isn’t. We have to exert more effort to make things look ‘normal’ or ‘appealing,’ instead of allowing the different style to flourish. Just as I think that a broken voice is usually more interesting to hear, I think we lose much of our individuality through adherence to imagined rules about what looks good.

Whether it is the dark blue paint on our bathroom walls, a metal ceiling in the bathroom, wood trim made from abandoned tree limbs (and then painted yellow), shoes deliberately mismatched, or clothing of multiple colors, I think we do ourselves a disservice.

Occasionally, I’ll have an insight wherein I realize that I have once again drifted away from interesting for no other reason than to look ‘normal.’ This word almost universally translates into boring and without creativity.

Our tombstones should be distinct, without symmetry. The cars we drive should be as differentiated as wildflowers and the colors we choose should be infinite.   But somehow we persist in painting the world in that horrible shade of “Desert Tan.” Blah.