bitterdiva

I am to mainstream as Paris is to a friendly city

Someone insulted me today by calling me mainstream. I don’t think I’m mainstream, I don’t even know what mainstream is nor do I think I could ever reach the epitome of such. I am who I am; I do things that I like; I wear my hair how I like it. Just because I go out and chop it off and dye it red does not make me mainstream. Sure Pink and Kelly Osbourne have brought it to the forefront of fashion because they’re famous, but there are numerous individuals out there that have been doing it since before they were even conceived.

I am not a common plain individual. I stick out but by sticking out that doesn’t make me a conformist with those individuals that stick out. I don’t run with a crowd of people that dye their hair blue or purple. I don’t sit with females my age that collected unicorns when they were younger. I had my own perceptions of life when I was a kid. Sure I am jaded, bitter, angry but I’m also sensitive, pleasant, and thoughtful. I go out of my way to help people but I also discard individuals that possess qualities that I do not deem kind.

I cannot stand individuals that judge me simply by conversations. Anyone who sees me knows that I’m not mainstream. If I were mainstream then the world would be full of overweight college dropouts with interesting brain chemistry and a penchant for older British actors. If I were mainstream and cared about my appearance I would want to try my best to look how the populous does.

Speaking of which, the person in general said that America was a country that was full of manic or depressed people. So having a mental disorder is mainstream now? I guess we should thank Prozac and Ritilin and all the pharmaceutical companies for making mental disorders a fashionable affliction. Pfizer made Viagara fashionable amongst all the older males of this country with sexual dysfunction. Osbournes popularized family dysfunction. So now according to my roommate, cannibalism is the last taboo. However, the Donner’s have made money off their horrific affair and numerous comedy routines have been done regarding that topic. The topic alone is no longer taboo but actually practicing cannibalism is, sometimes I wonder what human flesh tastes like. One of my grosser hobbies is actually peeling my skin and eating it. It’s more of an obsessive-compulsive attribute. My dog used to have those, when she got bored she just started licking herself until all her fur was off and there were open sores.

I’ve recently had discussions about females and attention whores. Although this sounds hypocritical after all I am writing to some imaginary audience that may or may not be reading this (although I call them exercises in thought and creativity) I am not an attention whore. I would think I’m further from it. I don’t like attention; I never have been one to command an orchestra or a room to focus on me. I enjoy sitting in the background, plotting and scheming while all the participants go on with their lives like they should. It all stems from puberty. I was not the pretty girl that attracted the eye of males similar in age. I was the ugly friend to the pretty girl, constantly mocked and ridiculed, and on one occasion used as an exercise in hilarity when some jackass dislocated my knee because he felt like it. I don’t understand females yet I am one. It’s certainly a constant battle. I just keep remembering a conversation with a friend that told me it was all a big farce that I act like one of the guys. But that’s all I’ve known in my life. I don’t like females because they annoy me yet I lack the genitalia to be invited to a stag instead of suffering through a wedding shower.

I’m going to go play with my mainstream Lego, Star Wars, and Harry Potter toys.

03:54 PM

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