Similarly, on the surface I couldn't be more unlike Russell Brand if I tried (I don't backcomb my hair, I don't wear skinny jeans, I don't sleep with a host of different women at every given opportunity) and yet, for instance, when Russell talks about the 'pixie of embarrassment' who, just as he is about to fall into a slumber, comes and reminds him of the painfully embarrassing things he's said and done... I GET THAT! IT HAPPENS TO ME ALL THE TIME! I have this mild tourettes reaction to recalling embarrassing incidents; 'Remember that time in Year 6 when you were sat in the school hall and you were falling off your chair and for some reason decided to haul yourself up by pushing yourself up with your hands, only problem being your left hand was placed atop Paul Gradiges right leg, yet this didnt register until the hauling up process had been completed?' Yes! Shitfuckshit! He MUST have thought I was coming on to him (as much as an 11-year-old CAN think that)! s'barrasing! The other times this happens is when a song comes onto my MP3 player which reminds me of embarrasing incidents and as I am mostly in public when I have my MP3 plugged in I have the double whammy of flushing with embarrasment about the recalled incident AND my tourettes reaction to it." I [insert embarrassing moment here]? OH SHITFUCKHIT I just said 'shitfuckshit' in public, I'm going to get myself a rep as the twat-in-a-hat (I bought a beret, did I tell you that? It's awesome) mentalist girl."
The other thing that confuses me is that I LIKE feeling connected to these two disparate individuals. Just as, when you watch a film or a tv show or hear a song and you're convinced that 'this was made just for me' thus making the feeling of not belonging just an illusion - because, look!, these people have created things that express the same feelings that you feel! Or reference the same cultural points that make you the person you are! You're not alone! If connectedness (its a word) is so important to me then it begs the question of why do I despise conformity quite so fervently? If I could go back in time and talk to my 13-year-old self (the one that was forced to move secondary schools at such an evil age) I would be like; 'Seriously kid, I don't think anyone here is truly happy with themselves. Conformity isn't something you want to pursue in any way really. Make sure you question e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g, from stuff your teachers tell you to pretty much all the guff your peers will tell you. They might pick on you as you stand out a little; you don't know the 'implicit rules of cool'* that distinguish the popular kids from the sad, you're kind of smart and shy [the most lethal of all personality traits at that age], and you don't know a soul here so you have to make a good impression on everyone right from the get-go [never gonna happen] but it really doesn't mean anything. All of this... it means shit. Don't try and impress anyone, like all the things you want to like and don't give a fuck what anyone else has to say about it. But, to be on the safe side here's a copy of 'Strangeways, Here we Come' as well as a list of other bands you will want to become aquainted with BEFORE your 17th birthday, some GHD straightners [if these had been readily available in 1996 my appearence would have been VASTLY improved], and some outfit choices that don't make you look like Karl Howman from Brush Strokes [waistcoats? dungarees? PURPLE cord flares? REALLY?? Sadly the answer is yes]. Now go out there and just... enjoy it as best you can. I know that's virtually impossible but not caring REALLY improves your chances'
It seems I would have quite the wordy diatribe to bestow upon my younger self. If I am honest, up to the age of about 21, everything I did was done to try and be the sort of person that that 13-year-old would be impressed by and less because I actually wanted to do certain things. Now I am the sort of person my 13-year-old self would be impressed by so it seems less important and I can just 'enjoy it as best I can'. A curious chicken-and-the-egg situation.
It's funny, because, even having said all of that I still had a really stong gut reaction upon hearing that Marianna's boyfriend Ricky thinks Chloe and I are weird. It was neither a good nor bad reaction but just utter disbelief on two levels; one - Am I really 'weird'? (Well... yeah) and two - the paranoia that people are thinking what I think they're thinking is true (at least in this case). I kind of suspected he wasn't my biggest fan which was only confirmed further after our house Christmas party (see pics for evidence). However, firstly it shouldnt surprise me because, to a guy like Ricky, I am weird. I've built my whole persona on the back of wanting to appear weird to the likes of Ricky. I don't listen to the music I listen to or read the books I read or wear the clothes I wear to get on the good side of the 'Rickys' in the world (we've already established that all this was done, at least inititally, to appeal to the construct I have of me at 13. Happily it turned out that I do genuinely like all these things). This isn't a personal attack on poor Ricky - he's just not someone I would ever spend any time or effort trying to impress as he is one of those people to whom conforming is just... what you do. Fitting in is the be all and end all. And I guess that's fine if thats how you want to live your life but I DON'T want to live my life like that and, more importantly, I CAN'T live my life like that. I passed the point of no return into 'Weirdsville' and burnt all bridges leading back into the safer land of 'Normalcy' a looong time ago now.
I guess I'm a little reflective (no, nothing to do with the luminous kind of reflective) due to it being the end of the year. This year has been, all in all, pretty great. My state of mind is definately in a more positive place than it was at the start of last year. There's two ways of looking at this - either, the fact that I'm finally happy with myself can only be a good thing, or, the only way from here is down. We shall see.
*The author of the book 'Queen Bees and Wannabees' (which the film Mean Girls is based on) says that, in High School, kids have to follow a strict set of rules laid down by... God knows who... and if these are not followed exactly and to the letter then you will be given a hard time. The only problem is that no-one actually explains the rules at any point. If you unknowingly go against them then you set yourself up as a target for the rest of the kids ire. Anyone who didnt realise that you could only wear short white socks and not long white socks with your black woolly tights in winter should know how true all this is.
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