"Your village called.  Their idiot is missing."  –  T-shirt in England shop window

Now, let me say right up front that I also include myself as a "crazy person".  I just hide it more successfully than others.  Seriously — if you do have a mental illness like endogenous recurring depression (like I do), I’m not trying to make fun of you.  When I refer to "crazy people" here, I mean people who act completely whack noodle when they really should know better.

We all act a bit crazy, but we will all come across others acting crazy more than they come across us acting crazy  Crazy people can’t be dealt with.  Doing so will just give you stress.  Here’s how to recognise and survive just such an encounter.

 How To Recognize A Crazy Person

Everybody morphs into a crazy person sooner or later.  They just seem to do it more often when I’m around, but that’s another blog post.  Acting crazy is when you not only continue acting in a way completely against the laws of logic, physics and previous experience, but you do not recognize that you are doing so. 

Case in point — ever see a highly educated person or your boss stick a paper up on a wall and try to write on it with a disposeable pen with the top of the pen below the ink dispenser thingy?  He keeps shaking the pen and is completely baffled why it does not work.  You try to suggest that he is holding the pen in the exact position that defies all laws of gravity, but he still continues to try to write in this position and continues to be baffled by the lack of ink coming from the pen.  This is an example of a crazy person. 

What To Do

Don’t try to help — crazy people hate that.  You’ll just get into arguments that will raise the stress levels of you and the crazy person and not much else.  Just nod and agree with whatever they say.  Eventually, they will come back to reason.  Then, the both of you can have a good laugh and life can go on.

Case In Point

Oh, this is going to come back to haunt me, but here’s a perfect example:

Keep in mind I’ve been mad about horses since my at least two of my previous lifetimes.  At the time of this incident, I was eighteen.  I’d lived all eighteen years with Mom.  She saw all the horse posters, horse drawings, horse puzzles and model horses every damn day of those eighteen years.  Most of my conversation had something to do about a horse.  I was even reading Horse Illustrated when she burst into the room and screeched, "There’s something wrong with the car’ windshield wiper fluid!  You’ve got to look at it!"

I turned around to see if someone else had forced their way into the house, but unfortunately, Mom kept yelling at me to check out the car’s engine, flapping her arms. 

"Who are you talking to?" I asked.

"You!!!  Get up and look at the CAR!!!"

"Mom, I know nothing about cars — "

"LOOK AT THE CAR!"

Now, Mom had been under a lot of stress at the time, at work and with her health.  The stress had combined all at once and turned my Mom into a crazy person. 

I gave up, got off my butt and went outside with her and looked at the car.  I put up the hood, leaned over, nodded, said "Uh-huh", and ‘MMM" thoughtfully with Mom wringing her hands beside me.  "Oh, yeah, " I finally said.  "I see it."

"See what?"

"I see that this is an engine."

Finally, comprehension dawned in Mom’s eyes.  She said, "You don’t know a darn thing about cars, do you?"

"Oh, gee — whatever gave you that impression?"

We had a good laugh and life went on.  And that’s how you handle a crazy person.

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