Me I

On Being Weird and Not Giving a Bleep

Which is actually harder to do than it looks. Sometimes I really envy those people who are weird to the core and love being that way. Those people who don't mind the stares, the whispers, the 'wth' glances 'cause they know the absolute truth that weird is beautiful and they are enjoying every moment of it.

There's a part of me that wonders why I can't be weird too-- which is a pretty weird dream for a teenager, but hey, I try! There's a middle stage that's never popularized, a kind of insecure limbo between normalcy and all-out rebellion. The people who kinda sorta maybe wish they were confident, cool, and weird, but lack a certain something that will help them break free from the normal camp. Right now, I'm struggling with that limbo.

You can see it in my leopard* glasses and my eyelash curler, my stationary set and my cellphone, my fencing shoes and my high heels, there's an ever present struggle between the call of the weird and the security of being (relatively) normal. Who am I kidding?!? I've gone way past normal, and so far, the idea of normal things has begun to feel alien to me. But at the same time, I feel the lack of pizazz, a certain something that prevents me from being all-out weird.

It's when I talk to my best friends, work on origamic architecture, play Bach's fourth invention, take the plunge in Lake Tahoe, or get epically pwned on the fencing strip that I'm really comfortable. I feel weird, and I'm loving it. It's the rush of happiness, the pure joy in living, and the confidence in who I am that boosts me to being really happy at being weird. And during those times, I stop feeling the glances, stop hearing the whispers, and stop caring about what other people think, whether real or imaginary.

At other times, however, there's the absence of identity, the feeling of insecurity that starts creeping up, and it's during those moments that I almost wish I was normal. Wouldn't it be the weirdest thing to be seen in that bikini? Or to be the leader in that pack of girls? Or the blond going out on a date? And I catch myself thinking, what would it be like to be normal? To have 568 friends on facebook instead of just 4**? To not worry if the dress is way too short and too low, or if makeup isn't really a product of societies' virus-like inferiority complex and and a sign of the subconscious desire to join the crowd-- I mean, uh, that's to say, um....Anyways...

Wow, this is hard. But the more I think about that, the more I realize I would never be comfortable being normal. I couldn't really wear the skin tight skinny jeans***without feeling self-conscious, or go on a date at fourteen without being sedated, kidnapped, drugged, or temporarily insane. When that day comes, shoot me first....haha....no, really, despite the sometimes overpowering drive to be normal (why do you think I bought another tube of eyeliner that I'll only use during special occasions, like a once-a-year concert? I wasn't thinking, I swear!) there's a certain revulsion to being normal as well. Personally, I think my anti-normalcy firewall is just too deep to ever be ousted. And now I realize, it's 'cause of my love for all things weird-- or rather, my love for being myself.

Maybe people don't have to belong to either camp to be epically awesome. Perhaps being weird-- and being normal-- is way overrated? And maybe, really, it's actually the strive, the struggle to fit in that kills the pizazz, the struggle to be weird like everyone else. To 'join' the rest of the weirdoes and fit in with them. So really, wouldn't being truly, deeply, down to the bone weird mean just being yourself? Even if it's absolutely normal, maybe the struggle shouldn't be to be weird, but just to be original. Or even the struggle to be original should be replaced by an effort to find the self. And in that case, the state of limbo has become a state of Grace. It's blending normalcy and weirdness while not trying to go to either extreme. It means playing both Taylor Swift and Chopin on a Steinway grand, wearing AE high heels with my Jane Austen Costume****, and just going where the spirit leads.....

By the way, that was an obscure reference to Chuang Tzu's parable of Cook Ting....

Moving on. It also means posting random things, as well.

So, after struggling, and struggling, and struggling, and struggling, and....(eternity loop) with inferiority, I'm throwing up my hands and walking away. For right now. I don't want to pretend that all my problems are now solved and I will be a happy, confident teenager, 'cause I know that in approximately two days, three hours, twenty seven minutes and forty one seconds, I will be just as insecure as ever, but really, for now, that's OK. I have the confidence (and trust. Actually, it's mostly trust and a bunch of begging) that I'll pull OUT of this really irritating phase in one piece with relatively sound mental health, so for right now, I'm just going to enjoy the ups and loathe (just kidding) the downs and really hope I don't capsize as I paddle my kayak across Lake Tahoe.

By the way, we went kayaking today at Lake Tahoe, and it was really fun. More on that sometime later.

And sorry, that was really random, but anyways, this is Quiet Girl, kayaking away....

-Shhhh....there's something in the water.

*Yah, why does everyone think they're leopard? It was originally supposed to be tortoiseshell, but then upon further inspection, the color scheme had too much contrast. However, the spots aren't dots in a symmetrical pattern, they're more angular and chunky, and therefore, they're giraffe.

**And maybe to know the answer to that subconscious question: Now that I've gotten a Facebook, what the heck is the big deal about anyways? It's one more way for people to contact me and worse yet, I have to respond-- just kidding, I love you guys, ok?-- But what now? Do I dig up every kid I've ever known and pester them to 'friend' me? Do I even want to? Why do people become addicted to this anyways?

***Ok, I hate to say this, but skinny jeans are really dumb. I mean, they make people's legs look like anorexic pencils! Plus, what if you wanted to go wading? Can you even roll those up to the knee? Seriously, wet jeans are really, really annoying, and I'd hate to think what wet, skin tight jeans would be like. Whoops, that was a bit of a random rant. But I don't get it? What's so appealing about skinny jeans?

****Emma is the best. Really. Right now, she's trumped Totoro as the person I want to dress up as for Halloween. But really, how can I make a Regency era dress easily? Argh, this is going to be so hard....I've already perfected the hairstyle (it just needs more gel. Like, lots more gel), but the dress is still in developmental purgatory....