What the..

So I've been thinking about weird people. Not that I don't classify myself as weird (or just genuinely quite quirky), but I'm talking about the people you see and think, huh, weird. The guy with the towering green mohawk walking down a suburban street, for example, or the girl wearing a a sequin tracksuit and ugg boots on a plane to LA in July (that's a true story right there). They inspire in us an impulse to say well, that's strange. Or in the case of my friend Jess, WHAT THE FUUU.

But I've been thinking lately, maybe these people aren't weird at all. Maybe they know exactly how they are perceived by others, and like the reaction. Or maybe they have the courage the rest of us (outwardly) normal people don't have to be perceived as strange and just not care. To be so secure in yourself as to risk freaking people out...that's confidence.  

We even live in a society that prizes individuality above so much else, so to be called weird...well, you have to be really doing something different. So, if like me, you are occasionally called weird...wear that as a badge of accomplishment, for losing your inhibitions to stray from the pack a little. 

And I wore a tutu on the T so...I get it :)

(number of times I used "weird":6)