I'm a little… different than most people, or
considered ‘quirky’ as the phrase goes; while I am a law abiding citizen (only
because I wouldn't last a second in prison), I don't adhere to conventional norms, just to be popular. I've always sort of hung just
outside the periphery. I tend to be a very intense, to-the-point person,
with a penchant for laughing raucously when the mood calls for it and a
wicked-sardonic sense of humor.
I dress the way I want, I think the way I want,
I listen to the types of music that pleases my sensibilities
and musical palate. Some people may consider me a prime candidate for lithium,
but I beg to differ. This same class of lemmings feel it necessary to stare at
me cautiously out the corners of their eyes, shake their heads, and then conclude;
"You're weird." without truly getting to know me.
I embrace my eccentricities. I never used to and
tried to ‘fit in’ as it was. My unorthodox way of thinking sets me apart from
the flock. My ‘weirdness’ is what enables creativity to flow like an endless
stream. It's what prompts me to feed my intellect and absorb different styles
and cultures with fervid passion.
My foibles make me privy to a side of
pop-culture people choose not to embrace, because it's not main-stream. What's my point? What am I leading
up to? Well, allow me to explain...
My day-to-day interactions with naysayers...
people who demand that I become malleable to their whims, when it comes to me and mine, has prompted me
to split into two separate people. The frustration I feel over having to defend
my personal, grown adult interests, is exasperating. I’m not the black girl or
woman people demand that I be. What some people may consider weird is actually quite
normal, when juxtaposed to something that’s legitimately off-the-cuff.
So what if I like to eat miso soup for lunch
at work or socialize as particular places? big deal that I don't like to go clubbing, and
opt to stay home and re-pot my grafted cactus instead. As far as my musical
tastes go... fuck you, if you are too
close-minded to embrace genres that you haven't heard on the radio. Just
because you don't know who Cody Chestnutt is, don't shake
your head at me for having him in my portable, as if I'm a strange bird.
Since high school, I've had to defend and almost
apologize for who I am. And so I’ve decided to create an alter-ego of sorts. And
live in an entirely different place in space-time, where I morph into a less manic version of Sybil.
I'm fed up with having to deal with rude, judge-y
types. Fuck naysayers. Anytime I'm feeling shunned, I
disappear into an
alternate world. This is where my alternate
self lives. I confer with my A.S. during particularly
oppressive moments, when I don’t want to answer intrusive questions.
When I'm especially temperamental, I have a
little powwow with the ol' A.S. She is shameless, she marches to the beat of
her own drum, and she is the fearless bandleader! My A.S. says fuck-all while I merely only think of it to someone. A.S. will flip the
bird at the drop of a hat. She will pimp-slap anyone who steps to her derisively.
I go somewhat catatonic, retreating into my
alternate world, watching as A.S. kicks ass and takes names. It's almost like self-hypnosis. Believe
it or not, it keeps me sane; it helps me keep my anger in check. It allows me
to smirk, in-spite of what's or who’s making me angry at that moment. The rage that
roils up in here and now
subsides.
A.S. will tell people who're getting on my nerves, to shut the fuck up coolly, as if she
were relaying the day's weather forecast.
Recently, A.S. waltzed all the way to W. Pizza Place, with the sucky, not what I ordered, pie in-hand and smashed it in the Sikh's- who delivered it two blocks
away because he couldn't be bothered with pulling up to my freakin' door- face. The jerk
didn't even get out of car and was visibly annoyed when I pointed to where I
wanted him to drive up to. To add insult to injury, I had to reach in his car, where the window was partially
rolled down, and grab my order, because he didn’t deem me worthy enough
to hand it to me.
While at W. Pizza Place, A.S. went behind
the counter, picked up some pizza sauce and painted the joint red because they
screwed up my order and mucked up my damn salad, as the owners and employees
looked on, mortified and gesticulating wildly, muttering in Hindi. A.S. did
this, because my reality-based-self ordered a small cheese pizza with
green peppers, black
olives, and mushrooms...
only to lift the top off the box to find a sad little pizza pie with mushrooms,
heavily sprinkled with a copious amount of black
pepper.
Satisfied with her work, A.S. walked out with a
smug look on her face... leaving those bastards to stand there and think about
their piss poor customer service.
A.S. threw bricks in the windshields of the last
2 self-absorbed, pricks she flung with this past year. She kneed prick from
2003 in the groin.
A.S. then caught a flight all the way to Siena,
Italy and beat the shit out of the Italian dude who stalked and terrorized her
best friend for nearly a year. "That supersedes the restraining
order, BITCH," she spat at him,
punctuating it with one last, Tony Soprano style kick to the ribs.
Sigh... yes; A.S. sure is a trip 1/2... She makes me laugh.
I think I'll keep her around. Anyway, some people count to ten when they're angry;
some visit their nearest shrink's office. Me? I retreat into my alternate
world... and I touch base with that wild punk-rock part of my subconscious...
I go from scowling to chuckling. Yes, she's definitely a bad ass.
7 comments
huh. that's strange. I think her twin lives in MY head. Odd....
I just ignore my alternate when it wants to indulge in violence other wise I take all his suggestions.
remind me never to piss off A.S.
i have one too. i guess i got to post it..
Keep in mind that these bloody acts of violence only transpire in my head... and are committed by A.S.
I think I have someone like that living in my head. Here I am sitting at work, 5 1/2 months prego and someone pops microwave popcorn and burns it 10 a.m. in the morn. Smells up the whole damn floor. While I sit here, sniffing my bottle of lotion and listen to her apologize - and I just smile politely. While in my imaginary mind, I walk up to her and slap the shiznik out of her for even bringing the burnt popcorn to her desk. So I definitely feel you on this on.
awww, pure "Cocodimples" ... I know this is you... tee hee.
So she burns up the popcorn and doesn't even bother to offer you any??
The horror. hahaha
just joking!
wow,finally i had time to read the whole post. gorgeous! absolutely lovely! her clone is in my head.
and the chuckling, i know it oh so well. when i am totally pissed off i reach this point where i either start to cry or start to hysterically laugh.
thats when my A.S. pushes forward. But otherwise I am totally happy with her, because she has a wickeeeed sense of humour.
love this.
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