I've been aware of the importance of permission givers in carving behaviours ever since I read Gladwell's 'The Tipping Point'. It applies to youngsters looking up to their older cousins to pick up smoking but maybe reading as well. It's ubiquitous in fashion and art. It's at the forefronts of revolutions and riots. But I didn't realize it applies to weirdness until I read the following:
"We may stay quiet about our affection for daffodils, for instance, until a reading of Wordsworth endorses the sentiment, or suppress our fondness for ritualised, solemn snow-viewing until the merit of the practice is confirmed by Natsume Soseki"
The Architecture of Happiness
So, it seems some have been waiting for it. Well. Congratulations! You got it! Your very own "License to be weird". "But I did nothing to earn it". Exactly you weirdo. Here's the document that'll allow you to shout aloud your love of diesel smell, your amazement in front of a washing machine, your fear of the space between the top of your closet and the ceiling, your enamorment with the redness of meat, your astonishment when graced by a breeze of air in the middle of an alley.
Congratulations, you are now officially licensed to be weird!