Some thoughts on normality

July 24, 2025

There's an old interview with the Olsen Twins that lives rent-free in my brain. In it, the girls, who are about five at the time, are being interviewed by Regis and Kathie Lee (remember them?). The interviewers are struggling because the twins aren't your stereotypical precocious stage children. They're shy and awkward, talk into their chests, and don't have anything interesting to say.

At one point Kathie Lee asks them, "What's your favorite dessert?" Mary-Kate says, "I like popsicles." And Ashley says, "And I like ice cream." What follows is a few seconds of awkward silence as the hosts realize they've met their match. They can't make these twins interesting. Fed up, Kathie turns to the audience and with a shrug says, "They're just normal kids, folks."

I think about that interview a lot because there's always been this weird curiosity around the Olsen twins, especially when they grew up and became reclusive adults. People are always trying to psychoanalyze them, judge their childhoods, and make weird insinuations on "what happened" to them. And honestly, I think what happened is nothing. They're just too normal.

I was hanging out with friends recently when the actor who played Carlton Banks on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air appeared on TV. He was hosting America's Funniest Home Videos and I made some snarky comment on how I was glad he finally found a job. My friend seemed slightly offended by this and mentioned that the actor is actually highly respected and works a lot in theater. For some reason I never thought about that and, like most people, measured success on how famous he was.

But that's the thing — there's a barometer of success that requires normal people to become abnormal. And how open a person is to this transformation depends on the person. Not everyone wants it or is ready for it, and a part of that depends on normality.

"You're not afraid of success, you're afraid of power," I once heard some therapist on Tiktok say. To be successful requires an insane level of self-confidence, often times at the expense of others. Do you want power or do you want peace? How does it feel to be the center of things if you don't want to be in the center? What if it's the work you love and not the attention?

I finally got around to reading Yellowface and, besides the obvious racial themes, it also touched on the fleeting nature of fame. The protagonist craves adoration more than being a skillful writer and becomes so desperate for this power that she plagiarizes a friend's novel to get it. By the end of the novel, the author seems to suggest there's a cutthroat nature to success that everyone adheres to. The more cutthroat you are, the more successful.

There's a similar theme in Martyrs, which I'm currently in the middle of. In it, the protagonist is obsessed with finding a purpose in his life. Being "normal" is a fate akin to death. He surmises that if he can't become a famous poet, creating "important" work, he might as well be dead. In both books, the overall sentiment is that normality is a curse that only the brightest, smartest, and most successful can overcome.¹

Is that why when we look at successful people and compare them to ourselves we feel a sense of failure? I guess if you grow up in life thinking there are only two classes of people, the gifted and the "normal," you might also have this nihilistic outlook. "Without purpose, without fame, what is the point?"

But honestly, I'm sometimes more impressed by normality, especially successful people who've touched the sun and still choose normality in the end. I think back to all the famous people who leave fame and how cruel we are to them, how we cackle cynically about their "fall." How dare they tumble back down to normality with the rest of us!

But not everyone has the kind of personality one needs to sustain being abnormal. Not everyone wants that power or level of scrutiny, or can even handle it. These people, who might be a bit more down-to-earth and less outgoing, are allowed to exist without the stench of judgement.

Plus, abnormality can sometimes make you insufferable. I often think of Jennifer Lopez making an entire documentary about her love life with Ben Affleck (and a tour that later got canceled) and realize that maybe it's more commendable to be the person who walks away from success than to be that.

I know Gen Z likes to use "normies" as an insult, but it has its perks. Your peace, your humility, your sensibleness. To be normal and content means you're fulfilled in the purist form. It means you're an emotionally healthy person who doesn't need to make Regis and Kathie Lee like you because you like yourself, thank you very much. When the Olsen Twins chose normality over fame, maybe what they actually chose was to be free.

#ramblings