In yesterday’s post, I was talking about how the Democrats are harping on the Republicans being weird. At first, I thought it was a good move (and I still do), but then it started annoying me. As I mentioned, I have been a weirdo all my life. I have never fit into any group, really, and I got comfortable being on the fringes of society. I embraced ‘weird’ as a descriptor and wore it like a badge of pride.
There was a time when I was defiant about it. Being weird was my cloak and my shield against the brutality of the world. Once I embraced it, I didn’t feel as defensive about it. I was rather proud of being different and staying true to myself.
Side note: On the inside. On the outside, I was constantly adapting and molding myself to societal norms. I am really good at social interactions beacuse I’ve spent so much time making myself that way. It was not an option,o and I have learned it to a fault. I am not displeased about it, to be honest, because it has made my interactions with the gen pub easier in general. I can talk about weather until the cows come home without even breaking a sweat.
In addition, I can read other people’s facial cues and body language to a ridiculous degree. Sometimes, too much so. I jump the gun and freak people out when I react to how they are going to act, even before they do or say anything.
This has been somethnig I’ve been doing all my life–constantly adapting to how others react to me. That’s not unusual in and of itself. Everybody does it to some extent. In my case, though, I felt like I started on square -100. I liked to joke that I was raised by wolves, but it was not far from the truth. My parents had no interest in American culture. Well, more to the point, my father didn’t so my mother was forced not to because of course she had to do whatever my father wanted.
Back to being weird. If I were to shuck off all my masks and just be myself, I would be labeled a huge weirdo. Again, I’m fine with that–on a theoretical level. Meaning, I’m fine with being a weirdo, but I’m not so sure I’m fine with being viewed as a weirdo. Or rather, I don’t want to stick out all the time. I was talking with A about color. She likes to wear bright pastels; I like to wear black. All black, all the time. Right before the pandemic hit, I decided I wanted to branch out a bit. I bought a deep red tunic top with flowers on it, and I planned on buying more colorful clothes. Then the pandemic hit, and I lost all interest in buying clothes. Plus, black goes with everything. There is no matching needed, really.
I would like to try again, I think. There are other colors I like. Deep red; burnt orange; earth brown; racing car green. Deep earth tones, in other words. When I was talking to A about it, I said that I was hiding in the background and wearing color would make me noticed. She said, “Is it always bad to be noticed?” I thought about it, and she was right. It’s not, but I have spent so much of my life trying to hide and not be noticed. I was so used to being not seen even when I was seen tha I didn’t want to be seen–if that makes sense.