The Outsider

Ever feel like you just don’t fit in?

Yeah, that’s been me my entire life.

Ever since high school, even when I was in social clubs like drama and choir.. I just felt different. Like there was something about me that just didn’t mesh with other teenagers. Was it the fact that I came from THE MOST DYSFUNCTIONAL FAMILY EVAR? (You can read about the dysfunction in my family on a guest post I’m doing for a friend soon) Perhaps. I had to grow up really quickly so while my friends were chatting excitedly about prom and dresses, I was worrying about whether my mom would be having a good day today. During lunch, while girlfriends were gossiping about their latest crushes I was wondering if she was going to try and commit suicide again. Now.. On the exterior, I was well-liked. When I was in the midst of a rehearsal, or choir practice people loved me. I was the Funny One. The Witty One. In my high school years, people compared me to the likes of Daria and Jeanine Garafalo with my humor. I also had the ability to be bubbly and energetic. Not “AH MAH GAH, BECKY, LOOK AT HER BUTT” cheerleader bubbly but I carried my own special brand of effervescence. But I always felt an underlying feeling of… Just not fitting in.

My feelings of insecurity carried on into my adulthood. When I entered the work force at the tender age of seventeen (a movie theatre) I was convinced none of my coworkers (almost all male) liked me. I had a few female coworkers who I didn’t get along with much. I never have gotten along with the majority of girls; guys just “get me” more. I look back and realize that I was accepted just fine, although I do think that the guys I worked with didn’t quite know what to make of me. We were all very young, and I was what I now know is the “cool chick” that guys like to hang around. I don’t know if they were used to that then. They were used to the girly girls who flipped their hair and snottily refused to clean their counters. Who would bat their eyelashes, and sweetly ask one of the other boys to do it for them. Me? I was scrubbing and dismantling popcorn poppers with the best of ’em. Why should I try and make someone else do for me what I am perfectly capable of doing myself?

I hopped around to a few other jobs. I fit in well as a waitress in a restaurant. I hated the work, of course, but I fit in well with my coworkers. Life changed, I got married, and grew apart from my single female friends (who I wasn’t ever BFF with anyway). I have a handful of good female friends, and one that I consider my best friend no matter how much time goes by in between us seeing each other. She lives in Chicago and her name is Megan.

As an adult, I am very aware of my personality. I don’t try and mold and shape it to whatever I think is appropriate anymore and sometimes, that makes me feel like even more of an outcast. My sense of humor is really, REALLY random and off-the-wall. I quote movies a lot and in a circle of “normal people”, that doesn’t usually fly very well. I try and jokingly throw out a quote and am met with blank stares. Awesome, now I look like a freaky weirdo. I don’t try and quickly recover myself by talking about the latest episode of Dancing With the Stars, because I just don’t give a shit about Dancing With the Stars. I like Supernatural. And Firefly. And Quentin Tarantino. I go on ranty tirades that often have no point and make no sense. I snort when I laugh.

I have a small group of my “geek friends” who get me. Plus my husband. He, of course, gets me better than anyone I’ve ever met. My geek friends and I can throw down with movie quotes. They understand and embrace my randomness and love me for it. They don’t care that I’m loud, horse-laugh, and tell pointless and rambling stories. I love them for that.

Even here, in the blog world I feel like an outsider sometimes. Like I can’t run with the best of them. I feel like that awkward girl all over again in high school. I don’t have a beautiful, cleverly decorated home. We live in a 2 bedroom apartment (which I love because it’s our space) and share one car. Neither my husband nor I are college-educated and we never will be (I have no desire to be). My photography skills are nothing to write home about. I can write, so I think that keeps me in the blogging circle well enough. Sometimes I forget myself and try and be a Joiner. I do the reviews and giveaways (which I have no intention of stopping.. They’re surprisingly fun and anyone who thinks less of bloggers who do them can SUCK IT. THERE I SAID IT. I get free shit, I help others get free shit out of them, and I help companies get exposure where they might not get it without a review. WHAT’S NOT TO LIKE.). I do the cute, weekly “Wordless Wednesday! Thankful Thursday! Mookie Monday!” and whatever else weekly memes are running rampant in the blogosphere. And I forget myself… Why I blog. Why I write.

Because even at twenty-six years old and with high school almost ten years behind me, I still feel insecure though I know that I have a voice in the things I write. My worth as a writer, or as a person, doesn’t lie in how many comments I get on my blog.. How many followers I attain (though it is pretty exciting to see a new face pop up) or how high my Analytics traffic spikes from day to day. It’s really easy to feel lost and unheard in this vast, seemingly endless circle of blogs. Everyone wants to be seen, heard, and acknowledged. I try my damndest to reply to my friends’ blogs, even if it’s just a nice, hearty, ‘LOL!’ because it means I’m paying attention. I know how good I feel when I am acknowledged and I want others to feel the same way.

What’s the point of this post? I’m not really sure. Maybe this is just my vulnerable “I’m a real live human being, not just words on a screen” post. I’ve been feeling a little blue lately, and I wonder if it’s a result of being at home with minimal human interaction for the past 12 weeks. I’m starting a part-time job soon which is wonderful. I can’t wait. I get to take Nellie with me, which is even better.

So I guess the point in all of this is that sometimes, I feel just as insecure and just as much of an outsider as I did in high school. I guess those feelings never really do go away, do they?

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Twitter Home Tour

Once upon a time, @MomNom, @jennandtonica, @emmie_bee, @heirtoblair, and @ColeEmmett were talking about home decor on Twitter. We thought it would be so great to be able to see each other’s homes! A *bunch* of other tweeps joined in, @Alena29 put together a terrific button, and #twitterhometour (or #twitterhouseparty) was born! Feel free to join us – add a link to your home tour post (pictures, video, or both!) below.

Okay. So. Here’s the thing about my photos. First, they’re photos. Not a video. Second, we don’t have any cleverly placed pillows, bookends, or anything fancy. We are very, very simple people when it comes to decorations. Our furniture is hand-me-down. The same goes with Nellie’s nursery; it’s not clever, or swanky, or chic. It’s simple, functional, but everything was picked out with our little lady in mind.
My apartment is a capital D-isaster and I have had no time to clean it up. So what you are going to see, basically, are photos of the various elements that make our place ours. You’ll find little tidbits of geekery and little hints of where/who we come from. So without further ado..

Now, I have no fancy photo editor programs and I can’t afford the premium version of this one to add text. So if you see a picture that you have a question about, just ask!

Thanks for stopping by!

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Can I get to #1? Vote for me at Top Mommy Blogs to help! Just click the button above this text, enter the site and your vote is cast! Thank you!