An honest look at the beauty of being delightfully offbeat—and why our quirks just might be the secret language of joy.

Dear Frank,

Everyone within confiding earshot of me lamentably knows that I was once described as “quirky” by a mean-spirited soul. You certainly do, Frank. And as you know, I decided to grab hold with both hands (the description, not her throat) and go to town. I smiled, embraced it, and made certain not only to continue doing interesting, unconventional, and highly off-track things, but to up my game, o’ course, on a daily basis!  Came easily, as you can imagine.

Quirkiness. I prefer to think of it as operating from a high spiritual plane—positioned way up there, lofty, a cut above, and so forth. No, truth be told, I’m just average—but having incorrigibly free-spirited undertones, as do many of my more unconstrained friends. You know who you are!   

Enough of that. Let’s chat a bit about quirkiness, eccentricity, unconventionality, and the wonders therein.

Enter the movie Premonition.

I watched it recently, and while it’s not a quirky movie in the usual sense, it was wildly thought-provoking. Sandra Bullock plays a woman who wakes each morning to find her days out of order: one day her husband is alive, the next he’s dead, then alive again. Time refuses to march neatly forward, and she’s left reeling—grieving and relieved, terrified and hopeful, all at once. Lord, have mercy!

It rattled me, because isn’t life like that sometimes? We expect a straight line, but instead we get a jumble. Sometimes a big old mess, even. The good and the bad refuse to take their turns politely. They arrive scrambled, as if the order got misplaced in the shuffle. Oh, the memories!  

The film suggests that life is about fighting all that—resisting fate, grabbing control of the order of life. But that never sat quite right with me. Because in the end, what mattered wasn’t winning some cosmic tug-of-war. What mattered was how she lived in the midst of uncertainty: the love, the connections, the joy.

And that’s exactly where quirks come in. I know—you’re thinking it doesn’t relate. But yes! The odd, silly, or slightly offbeat things we do aren’t just eccentricities. They’re signs that we’re awake to life. But not only awake — we’re moving with it, like dancers keeping step with life’s uneven music.

Here are some examples:

Everyday quirks (lighthearted, visible):

• A child who insists on cowboy boots with pajamas
• Rearranging chairs in a waiting room so they “feel friendlier” 

Playful quirks (totally offbeat):

• Alphabetizing the spice rack but giving oregano its own “important herbs” category and paprika a spot in “the pretty ones”
• Naming your car or whispering encouragement to the plants before leaving for vacation.

Soulful quirks (heart-level oddities):

• Saving odd scraps of paper with favorite words scribbled on them
• Secretly admiring and encouraging the wild things that sneak into your garden without permission.

And maybe that’s why quirks matter so much. They aren’t just amusing side notes, they are the way we carry on when time itself feels scrambled. Not everyone would call themselves quirky, of course, but everyone has small, offbeat habits or unexpected traits that keep them grounded when life refuses to make sense. Quirks are simply the human fingerprints on an otherwise unpredictable story.

What really anchors this for me is the connection between the film’s unsettling message and our ordinary days: neither grief nor love nor joy comes in clean lines. Life doesn’t hand us neat progressions of Monday → Tuesday → Wednesday. It gives us skipped beats, out-of-order days, unsettling occurrences, and all the things that refuse to go as planned. 

So here’s to giving in to life’s divine detours—filling your days with everyday quirks, playful quirks, and soulful quirks. May we keep them close, not as flaws to fix but as pathways to joy. Our eccentric edges—the ones we’re tempted to smooth down—may be the very places where wonder sneaks in.

In the meantime, off I go smiling kindly at that aforementioned silly girl — bless her heart.  Perhaps she simply hasn’t yet learned the joy of dancing to her own tune. May she find, one day, the courage to join the dance. It’s far more fun than watching from the sidelines, right, Frank?  😘 

Love,

Jane

“I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Psalm 139:14