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Why are people afraid of people who are different?
Because they like to feel safe. Because it is comfortable and secure to always stay the same and never change. Because it is safe to stay inside your little organized box of what is normal and what you already know and understand. People don't what to take a risk and think outside the box, take a step into the unkown. So they shun anything different as below them. Because it threatens them, and they are to weak to handle it. "Foolish consistency is the hobgolin of small minds." But it's safe.
It's also boring.
People kill people who are different. Not always litterally, but they do. They shun them, look down on them, keep getting on their case about their "freakishness". Then the "freak" begins to feel insecure. "Something must be wrong with me, I'm a freak, I'm a loser, No one could ever like me because I'm such a worthless person." So they change, they become normal because they want to be liked. They want to be an "acceptable" person to the rest of the idiotic, conformist world. And once they do that, they have commited suicide. Not literally, but they have killed their "self". They emilinated what made them different and killed themselves. Luckily you can come back from this kind of suicide. But some people never do. And some people commit actual literal suicide, and they don't come back. Because they are "different" and somehow, in this world, that is an unwritten crime.
I was like this. I am different, I always have been. An no ones ever liked it. I thought for myself, and that became my own damnation. And I was an idiot, and I listened to what everyone said/thought and I thought "I must be a loser. Nobody like me, no one ever will". Even though their was always still a part of me that never ever wanted to be normal. And I never did accomplish normality, whatever the hell that is. I don't know, and I never want to know. But I did push myself away. The person I became was still different, but it still wasn't me. And now that I realize that, and now that I look back at who I was...I want to be me. But it's been a long time, and after all that metaphorical suicide I've been forcing myself into, I feel emotionally dead. And when you are emotionally dead it is hard to be anything. But I will. I will be me again, in the end.
And ******** what the world thinks. Because the truth is all the people in the world who hate me so much for being different don't think. Their just the same as everyone else, too scared, too weak to be different. So ******** them.
Yoko...I always knew Yoko looked at me like a different kind of human being. And I am different, I am weird, and I'm proud of it. But she...she looked at me like this different kind of person that she had to treat differently because I was different. And I was the only individual belonging to this subspecies of humans that she so wisely classified me into. And she looked down on this species as inferior, at least in some ways. I always knew that, but I kept it in my mind. I could tell her, but she would deny it, because she herself doesn't exersize her brain enough to realize that is what she thinks/feels. But it is. And most of the time it is beneath the surface. No, right out their for the world to see, but subtle and not noticable unless you use your brain and think, which most people apparently don't do. But occasionally, it breaks to the surface, loud and clear and, for once, obvious. I remember once she layed me down on her bed and told me I need to learn pop music, and know the s**t that appears on MTV because otherwise people wouldn't like me. So she played all her little brainless, conformist, fad MTV song and told me to name the artist and song. Of course, I failed with flying colors. Good for me. And the funny thing she, she told me she was not trying to change me when she did that. But I was to passive to rebel. And I knew she wouldn't understand if I told her that she was. But I wish I did anyway.
God I hate people who are all the same, who can't think for themselves, who are too scared to use their brains and travel out into the unknown and different. But I pity them because they will spend their whole lives it a static state. A more stable life, maybe, but boring and empty. They will never go anywhere knew in their minds, or learn knew things. They will follow the beaten track of conformity and consistency and see what everone else sees. They will never make a track for themselves, though the tall itchy grass and sticky muddy swamps and so somewhere knew and magnificent and haunted and ugly and beautifl and exciting and deadly and colorful and dark and light and...No. They will never see any of it. They will always only see a small part of the big picture. And as people, they will only be a small part of the whole. Conformity is like a black whole that swallows all that come to close to it.
I'm feeling rebelious, did you notice?
Now that my nonconformist speculations/ranting are done...
I went to Couch and Four again today on the way back from dinner(which was on the way back from down town, which was on the way back from the dentist) and got Stargirl(which is actually what got me to thinking about nonconformity), Flowers for Algernon, and The Diary of Anne Frank. Bwuah.
Now I will post some amusing conversation from dinner, because I have realized that, just like neko_nny_okibi said, amusing things are not so much done in my life as they are said. So here goes.
Mom: It makes 12 cups of rice! (talkign about the new rice cooker)
Dad: 12 cups!? We don't need twelve cups!
Mom: We will have grandchildren some day.
Dad: By then it will be broken and we'll need a new one.
Me: But I'm pregnant already.
Dad: *makes weird noises*
Mom: Mika!!
Me: I just wanted to see if he would beleive it. (He is amazingly gullible, so gullible it borders on stupidity)
Me and Mom at the same time: Is he having a heart attack?
Boring rice cooker conversation continues...
Dad: How big is it?
Me: Not as big as my stomach would be if I was pregnant.
boring rice cooker conversation continues...
Dad: We don't nice a big rice cooker. Big ones make mad quality rice. (Oh no!)
Me: Look on the bright side.
boring rice cooker sonversation continues a few seconds.
Mom: (whispers) What is the bright side?
Me: I'm not really pregnant.
Beside my amusing conversation which may not be....Well, beside that, I don't have anything else worth writing. Except that I learned today that it is not wise to eat black chocolate and marshmellow cookies from starbuck right before you go to the dentist no matter how loudly you hear it's delidious voice calling to you. Unless you have a toothbrush, which I didn't. And consequently I ended up spending about 20 minutes getting my teeth cleaned. But in defense, I triied to pick out as much as I could before I went in, but I was already late and people kept walking into the bathroom and looking at me. Well, 2 people...and they didn't really look at me. But I was late, alright?
And I ate yummiful tacos with Jin and Yoko and Hana and...disturbed the peace in the restaurant and many other places...and...
...
Yes.
And darren hasn't poste in a while. So. Post darren.
And...
...
*stops typing*
 AuroraPhoenix · Thu Mar 17, 2005 @ 02:00pm · 0 Comments |
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