Thursday, May 12, 2011

Sometimes I forget...

  Sometimes I forget that I am, at heart, a weirdo.  I love being a weirdo... and odd child... the different one. It offers its challenges. Sometimes its hard for people to take me seriously. At times I am hard to handle. I don't tolerate being around khaki people for very long.

 As I understand it khaki people have urges to buy beige clothes, get drunk, flock together in quite well behaved groups etc. Where as I (and the people i know) have urges to paint giant cephalopods on the wall, mimic animal noises when heard, and drive for hours to dress up and get attention. Now I wonder how people will perceive me with a child. Pink hair and a stroller? Granted I dont have pink hair right now but I'm sure I will need to dye it something funky again. Brown just doesn't do it for me. Sorry Grandma.

Though I doubt I will be joining any Mommy and me painfully suburban playgroups, I still want my child to interact with other children. Living on a farm in the middle of no-where makes that a bit difficult. I will do everything in my power to enhance the life of this child and future children. Where will that take me?

 I know right now I need to find some crunchy Momma's in my area. I fear status obsessed suburban trophy wives and I know that I am not able to hold my tongue around them.

I will never stop being me. I hope that someday that will inspire my children to have a great sense of self-worth. After all I have met women who have tried to be like me because they had terrible self-esteem.

Why create your own glass ceiling?

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