The mind is a tricky bastard

I had an epiphany the other day. Dont worry, I cleaned up afterwards. I was in the mall and I saw this guy… oh my. What a tit. He had the weirdest outfit on… baggy denims, denim shirt, and a denim cap that was pulled so low, he had to look at the roof to see what was in front of him.

Now, when he got up that morning, got dressed and checked himself in the mirror, his mind told him that he looked good enough to walk out the front door. His mind, convinced him that he looked fine…that he looked cool…acceptable. But in the minds of other people, he looked like a right wally.

Now that got me thinking. HIS mind told him he looked fine. What does my mind tell me. When I walk down the street wearing what i wear, my mind tells me I look fine…but what do other people’s minds tell them. “omg, whats that loser wearing….”, “that dress doesn’t suit him…”.. ok, so thats a bit of an exageration, but seriously, the mind is a tricky bastard. It has the ability to make us believe stuff that isn’t necessarily true. What my mind tells me is cool, might not necessarily be cool.

I suppose, in retrospect (big word huh?), it all has to do with a person’s upbringing and background. Maybe denim boy had a gangsta lovin upbringing that conditioned his mind to accept his outfit as cool and acceptable. Whereas my upbringing and background had conditioned my brain to view him as an ass. I guess thats where variety and, for that matter, dysfunctional behaviour come from. Upbringing and backgrounds determine your minds acceptance or dismissal of ideas, activities and such.

But surely there must be a yard stick in this regard. I mean, does one person have the right to determine what is globally acceptable behavior, decorum, dressing? Or is everything around us open to each persons interpretation of acceptable?

Variety is the spice of life. It creates a vibrant and colorful atmosphere that is never dull. But there’s gotta be a bottom-line somewhere right? There’s gotta me a marker of some sort that seperates the interestingly ecsentric, to the chronically insane.

I hope I haven’t crossed it yet.