Novelty.

Today I learned

Or re-learned

That I am very tired of being a novelty.


I feel self-conscious when I talk about this, or even think too much about it, because of the us vs. them dichotomy, but at the same time I have realized that it's healthy for me to recognize it because I need to protect myself from getting emotionally engaged with someone who will inevitably, ultimately, tire of me.

I am not holding freakishness up as a higher state of being, because it often comes with drawbacks, sometimes major ones. Being high-strung or struggling or just plain crazy are not really things to idealize, and frankly, being weird in ways that permeate your life is not usually something that makes you feel good all the time. It's hard on you, and hard on your loved ones. And you get down on yourself, especially after the hundredth time you really liked someone and thought you had a connection with them and then they tire of your amusing antics and find someone else to spend time with.


Straight guys or girls like my ex, who think they're edgy or alternative because they wear funny clothes and/or like the art/music scene and/or open relationships and/or dick meet me and think "oooh, eccentric girl! Look how funny she is, with her quirks and cones and lard and her thing about some obscure Greek goddess! This will make my life fun and exotic and cool." But they don't get that actually at the end of the day they want to go home to something comfortable and not be challenged by someone different and gradually they start to realize that it's 24/7 and not just a new kind of hipster, and I start to grate on them. 


Because I'm still awake making something that's not even serious in Photoshop, and I am seriously going to leave those traffic cones on my roof forever. Not because it's funny, but because I love them. And maybe, just maybe, I really am going to wear a moustache to a party, and how embarrassing is that? Plus the weird shit on my walls. It's funny at first, but it's so cluttery, and am I really going to leave that up for the dinner party?


They're like perverts... just because they're perverts doesn't make them freaks. They just think freaks are neat, you know, so they want a pocket one to take to parties. For a while. Or, sometimes, they have a whole stable of them they rotate through and invite to parties. You gotta check this guy out, man; he's such a trip.


It took me about 4 years of absolutely adoring my ex and doing whatever he wanted (or thinking I was) for me to realize that for him, the novelty had simply worn off. And another 2 of realizing that it wasn't ever coming back. Because the thing is, I didn't get him, either.

But I'm starting to recognize it in advance, and learning how to cut it off at the pass. I will not be collected. Like a goddamn Beanie Baby.


Now is probably a good time to stop being down about it, and look around in the world at the other freaks, and realize that we're totally okay, and not collectible novelties. We're not cute. We're not funny. We're just regular people who don't quite fit in with the other regular people.


When you're weird, you're going to get weirder as you get older, because all the weird just accumulates. In layers. Because it's your normal.

My friends, the ones who have stuck around and are there for me, have never treated me like a novelty. Because they are also freaks in some way. You get it. I need to stick to my people. I'm lucky to have some.


Holy shit, this post makes me sound like such an utter wanker. I hope I can at least excuse it by being drunk at the time.