Blogging is like giving someone a peek into your underwear drawer, but only after you’ve gone through it and hidden all the pairs with holes and the embarrassingly large granny panties. It is the illusion of transparency. Here is ALL my stuff for all the world to see.
There is an art to this. You must show enough of the “embarrassing” stuff to create the appearance of total share-age, but not so much as to reveal the holey underpants. Share enough about your silly, somewhat socially acceptable quirks and you’re OK to hide the rest of the ugly undies safely tucked away under your bed.
It’s good to have a small safe circle that know about your granny panties and still love you (I am thankful for my little group of creeps). But…just know that the quirks you read about on this site and virtually every other blog are only scratching the surface of our insanity.
I admit it. I have lived for quite a long portion of my life with a strong desire to be cool. I want to be Ripley from Alien or Trinity from The Matrix….but it doesn’t have to be a superhero type figure. How about Juno? She is cool always. Witty, self-assured, and just, well, cool.
I watched a movie the other day and finally accepted that I am uncool. Bridget Jones…she did me in. I may not be like her in many ways, but I related all too well in the important ways. The constant foot in the mouth, the trying so very hard to be witty and improve one’s self, the inevitable public humiliation.
I have a friend who is always ridiculously cool. She can go to the local thrift store and pick out things that are horribly out of fashion and then wear them and suddenly they too are cool because they touched her cool skin. I do not understand this. I have tried to wear only things that are hip and have not pulled it off, then attempted to be cool by wearing things that are not cool and found that they are really, well, not cool even after touching my skin. My friend is James Dean and I am Buddy Hackett (if you don’t know who he is just google his pic…you’ll get the idea).
I’m chronically uncool. I rap along with my ipod when I run. I don’t hear the real runners or cyclists, who actually go a decent speed, sneaking up on me. They get the privilege of hearing my white Oklahoma version of Salt-N-Pepa and probably already got to witness me digging out my underwear that insists on jogging with me if ya know what I mean. Damn sneaky fast athletes. Being cool in sport is a whole other level of cool…I will never achieve.
I love geeky stuff and dream of someday attending Comic-con. This has been yet another of my reasons I am not cool, but it seems as though it may be my salvation. Geek is the new cool. I am holding onto hope….a new hope.
Back to Bridget Jones. She is an idiot who does not have it all together and in the film this beautiful and brilliant man comes to her and tells her he likes her just the way she is. Love it! Embracing my uncoolness even as we speak. My husband is that man…genius, charismatic, neat, got it together, beautiful….and as they say opposites attract. He loves me just as I am. I am very lucky to be so very uncool.