Sunday, January 17, 2010


In the adult world, your peers are far more polite. This became clear to me when I moved to California. There was no blunt, in your face, obnoxious comments from people spitting out what was on their mind. Oh, but someone will always say something else to someone about me. That I was weird. I admit I am weird in some way that can be good, unique, standing out and creating something creative that can make a difference in the art or music world. (My inspiration was to be a rock star, not a nurse or accountant) But then there’s the “bad weird”. Not the crazy, mental patient or druggie weird, but the weird that’ll never get me married with a normal, quiet man who’d provide my future with a nice normal house and two kids. At parties, bars or any other social scene that didn’t consist of the singles’ mixers, I’d find some normal people to try and talk to. I wouldn’t have to worry about them flipping out as I could grow closer to them. They wouldn’t embarrass me or themselves and I could live in a comfortable quiet environment. And people, who’ll see me, won’t label me weird because my friends weren’t weird. So what happens when I try to get their attention? No connection. Either they couldn’t or wouldn’t connect with me. And who were they? People who blended in the background. Untouchable from controversy or risking their “blending in the background persona” to act a little out of the ordinary. Jocks who like to go to sports bars and go scuba diving. No one was moving their head or eyes in an out of the ordinary fashion. I’d be hurt, and then angry. I mean who did they think they were?

I admit I am weird in some way that can be good. But then there’s the “bad weird”.

I still struggle with this even today. I mean, you’re probably thinking, why is this thirty-something woman agonizing over something so teeny-boopish? The reason is, that your inner teeny booper, “want to be part of the crowd”, “to be accepted” stays within you. It can crush your soul and can force you to perceive the world as a place where no one will ever understand you. Many of us still yearn to be wanted and accepted. That led me to find friends who turned out to be anything BUT friends. Even the friends who had appreciated my weirdness. You always have to be careful with the people you befriend when the normal ones won't hang out with you because your weirdness overwhelms them. They have some emotional and psychological issues themselves. It's a dilemma that I am presently struggling to master. I'm sure some of you out there know what I'm talking about.

I also live in an area where creativity is not the trend. I need to reside in a world of entertainment like Los Angeles. Weird people there are more appreciated. I feel I can be myself when I'm down there. I know this sounds ironic to some folks. Many people in the San Francisco Bay Area diss L.A. which brings me to make a final conclusion: You diss L.A. because most of you are not creative!

1 comment:

  1. I feel ya. I was called weird, too, when I was younger, even when I tried so hard to fit in. But this made me realize that trying to be "normal" was a waste of energy, especially when there ARE other cool, "weird" people out there. I know this is a cliche, but how boring would the world be if we were all the same? -Becky