WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?
adj \ə-ˈdəlt, ˈa-ˌdəlt\
: fully developed and mature : grown-up
Gee, thanks Merriam-Webster.
Before everyone proceeds to think or comment “you shouldn’t try to please anyone but yourself, you end up exhausted” or leaves me an inspiring quote by Eleanor Roosevelt, I just want to say that every last person on the planet feels this way at some time or another even though we know better.
I’ve never been crazy out there (although I adore people who are – that’s you, lady who sits at Walmart everyday with a huge smile and extravagant, colorful flowers pinned on top of your head, directly between the pigtails you always wear, even though you must be in your 60s. You make my day when I have to brave the madness that is Walmart).
I’ve always done my own thing and while I do care if people respect me, I can’t say I’ve ever been overly concerned with people liking me. But then, I kind of blend in and I’m pretty friendly and easy going so maybe that’s because it's never been a big problem. (Thought for another post, “You have to be prepared for people to hate you, average people love to be average because nobody bothers them” – Kelly Cutrone… truth???)
I just want to make art everyday and be around the people I love and wear a lot of red lipstick.
But relationships are tricky things and I have to make money. Telling the super rude, condescending customer with an attitude to F-off would be satisfying but not good for business, and ok, my over active conscience would prick me later. Red lipstick doesn’t work with everything and it gets on stuff and leaves a stain.
Thrift store t-shirts look slouchy and should have been retired when I graduated from college. Other twenty five year olds are rockin’ stylish semi-casual wear to their fabulous jobs and then afterward to stroll through the mall with their kids and really mature friends.
I marvel at my peers who look like “adults”, have perfect homes and outfits and jobs and kids and maintain that polite aloofness and togetherness that screams, “I’m an adult, you are not!”. Because sometimes I still preface a mildly interesting statement with “dude” and I love my ugly t-shirts.
Maybe I’m just slow on the uptake, a late bloomer (mandatory collective: “bless your heart!”), or maybe this is just who I am. While I am beginning to suspect that I am not out there enough to be cool or hipster but not average enough to just fit right in, I think I am ok with sitting on the fringes of normal and quirky.
I feel much better now. Ok, ok Eleanor, you weaseled your way in.
“I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: no good in a bed, but fine up against a wall.”- Eleanor Roosevelt.
Oops, wrong quote.
“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” - Eleanor Roosevelt or
“I think that somehow, we learn who we really are and then live with that decision.” -Eleanor Roosevelt
Ok, ok I’m done. Damn you, Eleanor.
image from plastic-sfoonss.xanga.com