It's times like these, I'm glad I'm not a lemming.
Today, I wore my red cape to school. Yes, I said red cape. Like an actual cape. My mom made it for Halloween when I was in Fourth grade and I went as Harry Potter. After that night, it was placed in the back of closet, and there it sat for six lonely years.
At the time, I was in the middle of the whole "I want to be popular" phase of my adolescence; to me a cape, especially one made to look like Harry Potter's cape, was the epitome of "dorky," and I wasn't going to let myself be a dork.
I wanted so much to be popular: nothing, not the lying, manipulating people I called friends, not the constant clashes I had with the person I was trying to be, none of it could deter me from my goal.
Then, in Ninth grade (2003), I got an acoustic guitar for christmas. I played it constantly; in truth it was less like playing a guitar, and more like plucking random strings. Suddenly, my guitar consumed my attention: I spent the whole Winter Break, just trying to learn.
I went back to school, but the guitar stayed in a corner of my room at home. Sure, I wanted to bring it to school, but how would it make me look? I couldn't play anything at all, so I would just be a dork with a guitar, right?
Well, eventually it found its way to school with me. I sat in the hallways before school, during our break, during lunch, after school playing my guitar. Popularity was not important while I played. The action of strumming what chords I could, trying to play something coherent, was my love. I was happy to sit alone because, alone, no one judged me; alone I could just be.
And alone I would continue to be, until recently. During that span of two and a half years, I learned who I really was, and what I liked; and I did what I liked, regardless of how people may think of me. I realized that I had not been happy trying to be a person I’m not, and I was finally happy about everything.
Then, last year, I was struck by the fact that I could wear whatever clothes I wanted to wear; even if that may include a silk Chinese robe or a red cape from a Harry Potter costume. At first, I was made more self-conscious by the faces of people as I strolled by in a red cape; once again, their opinions mattered to me.
In time, however, I came to find humor in the way I was perceived by people around me. I enjoy seeing someone do a double-take to see if that guy was really wearing a red silk robe with floral patterns on it. Soon, I was able to start to re-acquaint myself with people I had called friends, but whom had been forgotten over the past years.
That red cape hangs around my neck, covers my shoulders and forearms as I write this message to whoever may read my blog. I have had pony-tails, worn Mr. Potato Head underwear in front of an audience, danced like I was having a seizure while wearing that red silk robe.
Why should you even care about any of this? What is your incentive to return to read my new posts? That is all irrelevant. Why? Because I said so.
At the time, I was in the middle of the whole "I want to be popular" phase of my adolescence; to me a cape, especially one made to look like Harry Potter's cape, was the epitome of "dorky," and I wasn't going to let myself be a dork.
I wanted so much to be popular: nothing, not the lying, manipulating people I called friends, not the constant clashes I had with the person I was trying to be, none of it could deter me from my goal.
Then, in Ninth grade (2003), I got an acoustic guitar for christmas. I played it constantly; in truth it was less like playing a guitar, and more like plucking random strings. Suddenly, my guitar consumed my attention: I spent the whole Winter Break, just trying to learn.
I went back to school, but the guitar stayed in a corner of my room at home. Sure, I wanted to bring it to school, but how would it make me look? I couldn't play anything at all, so I would just be a dork with a guitar, right?
Well, eventually it found its way to school with me. I sat in the hallways before school, during our break, during lunch, after school playing my guitar. Popularity was not important while I played. The action of strumming what chords I could, trying to play something coherent, was my love. I was happy to sit alone because, alone, no one judged me; alone I could just be.
And alone I would continue to be, until recently. During that span of two and a half years, I learned who I really was, and what I liked; and I did what I liked, regardless of how people may think of me. I realized that I had not been happy trying to be a person I’m not, and I was finally happy about everything.
Then, last year, I was struck by the fact that I could wear whatever clothes I wanted to wear; even if that may include a silk Chinese robe or a red cape from a Harry Potter costume. At first, I was made more self-conscious by the faces of people as I strolled by in a red cape; once again, their opinions mattered to me.
In time, however, I came to find humor in the way I was perceived by people around me. I enjoy seeing someone do a double-take to see if that guy was really wearing a red silk robe with floral patterns on it. Soon, I was able to start to re-acquaint myself with people I had called friends, but whom had been forgotten over the past years.
That red cape hangs around my neck, covers my shoulders and forearms as I write this message to whoever may read my blog. I have had pony-tails, worn Mr. Potato Head underwear in front of an audience, danced like I was having a seizure while wearing that red silk robe.
Why should you even care about any of this? What is your incentive to return to read my new posts? That is all irrelevant. Why? Because I said so.
posted by KennyElendi at 5:37 PM
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