Freak Flags Flying

     I am weird. Yep, I said it.  Weird.  I enjoy things that most would classify as eccentric.  I like outfits that do not quite match.  I like something my colleagues have deemed "crab yogurt" (lump crab meat, Greek yogurt, as much garlic as you can handle.  Mix together.  Enjoy.  You're welcome.) I think drag queens are fascinating (if you have not watched RuPaul's Drag Race, you really don't know what you are missing!).  I purposefully stop during my runs to scroll to Nickleback songs on my iPod. In one breath I can be both philosophical and shallow. My name is Meg, and I am a Weird.
     I feel I fall into this category often, and as much as I embrace it, it also fuels my insecurities.  While doing some reading for grad school, I had a light bulb moment when I read the following, "going against the normal is bound to raise resistance (even though they may be small ones) and resistance usually stems from one being frightened and/or uninformed to new ideas and beliefs."  Although I was reading about educational reform, I likened the idea to being weird.  If you are one of "The Weirds," resistance from "The Normals" is something that you will be forced to confront.  Girls, a new show on HBO, recently spoke to this idea.  The main character Hannah was watching her boyfriend Adam rehearse a very personal scene in a play.  After watching him enact an intimate memory she said to him, "Do you know how unusual it is to see someone doing something that is so open, honest, and weird and you're NOT making fun of them in your head?"  I am going to add "out loud" to this too.  Making fun of someone or something (either in your head or out loud) that may be considered weird is such a natural reaction and is also the resistance mentioned in my grad school reading. But why?  Why are we so quick to make fun of something that frightens us, that we do not understand, that goes against our idea of normal?  Why not stop and just accept it? Why are we so slow to recognize the beauty in the odd?
     Being one of The Weirds then requires the cliched "thick-skin," because how much resistance can you take before you give in to the white noise and think, "The Normals are right, and I am wrong."  When does normal become "correct" and weird become "wrong?"  I imagine this threshold is different for everyone (as are the definitions of normal and weird).  Mine is obviously low.  I generally do not let my Freak Flag fly except in very particular company.
     Maybe what I need to embrace is not necessarily my weirdness, but the resistance to it.  If people are questioning me, making fun of me, resisting my ideas, it must mean I have ignited an insecurity in them.  Their resistance might come from being frightened or uninformed, but at least it means I have made them think.  It is easy to say this, but difficult to act upon because I feel it will lead me too often to a place that is very lonely. There are not many people who "get" me. When I bond with someone intellectually, they think my love of fashion and material things is shallow.  When I find a kindred fashionista, he or she usually cannot wax philosophical about literature with me. In either situation, I am the Weird.  Perhaps I should place an ad:

SWF (Sophisticated (yet) Weird Female) seeks OW (Other Weirds)

MUST LIKE: outfits that don't match but go, crazy food concoctions, men who wear make-up and look more FABULOUS than most women, bands most people would be embarrassed to admit they listen to,  discussing 50 Shades of Grey AND classic Brit Lit.

MUST BE ABLE TO: Engage in existential conversations but be able to take breaks from said conversations to shop at Forever 21 and recreate outfits seen on Pinterest.  Completely understand the following: "I put a studded belt with that girly dress to toughen it a bit and make it less precious," AND "The motif of love vs. autonomy is represented when Jane Eyre refuses Rochester's marriage proposal out of fear she will lose her identity," without translation.

     The truth is, I imagine we all feel like one of The Weirds fighting resistance from The Normals from time to time.  And sometimes we are The Normals resisting The Weirds.  My goal is to make a conscious effort to not let the noise from The Normals bog me down. I also want to be aware of and stave off when I tread into Normal territory and resist the Weird. I encourage everyone to do the same. Weird is good.  It brings thought and often change. Raise your Freak Flag, whatever it may be lest we find ourselves in a Normal Apocalypse. I leave you with photos of Sharon Needles. A fabulous drag queen (and fellow Pittsburgh girl!) and winner of RuPaul's Drag Race. She is open, honest, and weird. Practice resisting your Normal tendencies.

Clicking My Heels

     Some of my students recently did a project inspired by The Wizard of Oz, and it got me thinking about the characters from the story, their desires, and my own need for a Wizard intervention.  While the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion all had exclusive needs (brain, heart, courage), I find I may have a need for all three.  Or maybe I just want Dorothy's faboosh ruby slippers...

If I Only Had (Less) of a Brain

     I fancy myself an intellectual.  I enjoy deep conversations and diatribes about life, love, religion, politics, the meaning of the universe, the brevity of celebrity marriages, you know, the IMPORTANT things.  I relish being intelligent, but my brain is usually on overdrive.  I am never satisfied to just let things be.  I am in constant analysis mode, always trying to "figure things out."  The problem becomes, I usually create meaning where there may be none, create issues where none originally existed, and make the proverbial mountain out of a molehill.  Being observant serves me well on occasion, but it also makes me miss the simple joys in life because the grey matter inside my skull cannot function without a million questions and observations constantly swirling.  I would ask the Wizard for an "off switch" for my brain.

If I Only Had a (Stronger) Heart

     It has pumped through four marathons, so I know my heart is physically strong.  The strength I need is to love and accept myself a bit more.  While in constant analysis mode, I am also in a perpetual state of self-reflection or, more often than not, self-deprecation.  After being observed by my superiors and told what a great job I am doing, I have thought, "I am awful.  I can do better."   After completing a 16 mile run, I have thought, "I'm weak! I can push myself harder."  When I have been complimented on my attire or appearance, I have thought, "I am fat and ugly.  They're just being nice."  Even just casually hanging out with friends I have often thought, "I sound stupid.  I should stop talking."  I am not ignorant to my accomplishments, nor do I think that the people around me are just paying me lip service; I just wish my heart loved ME a little bit more.  I would ask the Wizard for a Valentine card to myself.

If I Only Had (More) Courage

     Fear is an emotion that I let control my life too often.  It kind of piggybacks off of needing less of a brain and a stronger heart.  The aforementioned over analytical mind and self-belittlement leads to the fear.  I fear that I am not smart enough, not pretty enough, not friendly enough, not ENOUGH.  I fear that I am making wrong choices.  I fear that I will never become the person that I am meant to be.  I fear that I am NOT the person I want to be.  I fear that everyone else has life figured out except me.  I fear that I will never be satisfied with my life.  I fear that I do not have the courage to make mistakes, to fail.  I fear the potential that I have if I stopped questioning, stopped disparaging, stopped fearing.  This one is pretty simple, Wizard.  Like the Lion, I just need some more courage.

     I cannot help but think that we ALL could use a Wizard from time to time.  (Plus, I could not make this post all about me.  I questioned the fact that it focused on just me, then thought that I am selfish and full of myself for making it all about me, then feared posting it because it was all about me.)  What the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion were seeking are pretty universal.  Who has not been in a situation involving questioning, loving, fearing, perhaps all three at once? The reality is that the Wizard does exist.  We ARE the Wizard.  Although it would be nice for there to be an all-knowing and powerful being to fix all of our problems, it has to come from us.  We are the men (and women) behind the curtain.  I  have to find the "off switch" in my brain, I  have to love myself a bit more, I  have to not give into the fear so much.  No Wizard is going to do these things for me.  So I encourage everyone to seek out his or her inner Wizard and allow it to give us the things that we need.  I just consulted my own inner Wizard.  She said I can deal with my brain, heart, and fear tomorrow.  For now I should go out and buy some wicked shoes!