Photo: Myself in New York City years ago, candid and captured by a friend of mine while we walked down the street, not giving a fuck.
Individuality, what is it? And not going by Webster’s, that source doesn’t cover it completely. It’s being who you are on the inside, who you feel you are, appearing the way you want, what you feel is you, you thinking freely, and your lifestyle is yours and yours alone, one you’ve created that is you, all encompassing. And the big point of it all; you don’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks about it. Granted this is a slippery slope… This doesn’t mean be an asshole, wave your asshole flag around and treat people like shit. Maybe that’s an “individual”, but there’s a poison in them and nobody likes that or needs that. So before I go any further, if you’re trying to enhance your individuality, or come out of your shell and live freely being yourself, which this is about, don’t be a dick about it.
People have told me more times than I can count, (and I’d like to think I can count pretty high), that they wish they could be like me in the way I dress, how I don’t care what people think, how I live freely and have no fences and go about life to the beat of my own drum. Now this pisses me off. Not because I think it’s a dumb statement or annoying, it’s because someone or something has made the people who reach out to me feel this way. That they can’t. Whether it’s society, other people or fear. That shit sucks. And I always start with it’s all in the art of not giving a fuck of what people think of you. Once you take that factor out you’re golden, you’re free. To be what you want, who you want and live the way you want. Once you stop worrying what other’s think it gives one a great freedom to cut loose and be who they feel they are on the inside, and that then flows out into one’s appearance, whatever it may be and their lifestyle and thought pattern. You don’t notice people anymore. Unless you see someone in need. When you’re free you become nicer, more helpful, more compassionate. The fear is gone and one becomes fearless and the desire to help others grow and heal takes over innately. Granted that’s if you’re not an asshole about it.
And by being an asshole I mean the fuck everyone else mentality. And walking around with a chip on your shoulder. Then you’ve become the one that makes people feel like shit and go inside themselves. In the metamorphosis of self, I think we all go through this. Hell, in my early twenties I was a roaring asshole. I had a massive chip on my shoulder, I had the come fuck with me attitude. I was looking for a fight. Granted I was always loaded, so that didn’t help. But I still had a chip on my shoulder. Now when you feel that chip show up, that you’re better than everyone else because you’re not one of them and you’re too busy thinking about that, you miss the old lady in the parking lot who dropped her grocery bag and needs help picking it up. And well, kids, you actually do give a fuck about what people think if you’re looking for people to start shit with because of how you look or how you come off. You’re still trapped, so when you feel that chip, flick it off, dust your shoulder off, maybe both, I had to do both; and twist your head back on straight.
Now this process isn’t easy. It doesn’t happen overnight and it downright sucks sometimes. You’re overcoming fear and breaking away from the pack. We’re herd animals, you’re breaking biology. At points you’ll be uncomfortable. You’ll be scared. You’ll want to go back into hiding. Don’t. Once you’ve gotten through that stage, which is the longest, you get a high, that first pure and unadulterated breath of freedom. Then the chip lands. If you’re going through your metamorphosis now, you know it will come and the same if you are just thinking about breaking out of your shell. Just remember not to fall into the chip trap. I’m being repetitive, but that shit’s important, the world doesn’t need any more assholes, we’ve got enough. We need more individuals, more people that are free that can help fix this weird, fucked up world we’re living in that needs saving.
Now as for me, how and when did this happen? It starts with confidence, that’s what not giving a fuck what people think about you and your life is. Anybody that tells you you’re either born with confidence or not, and if you don’t have it you’re screwed is full of shit. Confidence is something that builds. Something that builds over time, and sometimes it explodes out of you like an alien ripping out of some poor bastard’s torso like a bat out hell. That’s how it was for me. I’ll tell you the story. Yes it involves violence, and I’m not condoning it, (but the bitch had it coming), but you don’t have to have it born out of violence to have it shine through you and take over into your whole being.
I was in 6th grade at a small Catholic school. I wasn’t Catholic and this was an Irish Catholic school so my non-Catholic ass wasn’t welcomed as my poor parents thought it would be. They thought it would be a better education. Turns out the stupid principal was straight out of Ireland so I was fucked. The kids were told by their parents I was the Devil, he let that narrative run. The kids would call me this, I was picked last for teams, I sat alone at lunch, if I sat at a table kids would get up and put their hands on their face as a blinder. I got beat up and shoved around. I didn’t know why, I was a kid, I didn’t grasp the hypocrisy of Christianity at the time. I had to sit in the back of the church and couldn’t take communion. I was ostracized, criticized and bullied. I thought the stupid band of beads with the dead guy on the end would help me. If I prayed enough, if I was nice, if I kept trying to fit in that maybe they’d stop and include me and like me. Stop shoving me and covering their faces. I cared what they thought. I behaved and sat in the back. I shut up in religion classes when I didn’t understand something or thought something didn’t make any damn sense. Then one day I cracked.
After I got socked hanging the flag my dad taught me how to throw a punch. He told me then and I haven’t forgotten it, he told me, “Kid, you don’t start a fight, but you finish it.” It’s how I learned how to not break my thumb in my fist or swing like I was throwing a softball. Granted my parents tried. They went to that school a million times, called parents, went to parent’s houses and it still didn’t stop. They tell me now they wished they had pulled me out of that hellhole sooner, but my answer has always been, no, it built the foundation of who I am today. If it weren’t for those little assholes and shits in charge I might be a little bitch or a bully. Because that can happen too. You get knocked down enough, you either stay knocked down, insecurity takes over, or you become a bigger asshole than the ones that gave you shit. But there’s a third outcome. You learn from it, you grow from it and you shed the sheepskin and come into your own.
So this bitch that had always fucked with me and was the leader of the pack of turds came up to me when I was on the swings reading a book. She was a big bitch; as in large sized. I was a twig with glasses and braces. That didn’t help my situation either. She came over with her little posse and told me to get off the swing. She wanted it. This time I didn’t close my book and get up and find another place to sit alone, I said no. She got shitty, my answer was still no. She told me she’d knock me off it and I dropped my book on the ground and just looked at her. Needless to say she cracked me in the face, I fell off the swing and my glasses were broken lying somewhere on the ground. Without a second thought I got up and went to the swing, grabbed one of the chains and with all my twig ass might tried to wrap that bitch’s throat in the swing chain, I didn’t let up until I was ripped off by nuns and teachers. I remember turning around staring at her as I was hauled off by both arms to be sat outside the principal’s office and wait for my parents to come get me. The girl’s parents had apologized for their dumbass kid’s behavior before, they weren’t pressing charges and didn’t want me expelled. We both got a week suspension.
On the ride home I was silent. My parents were quiet. I was waiting to get chewed out. I remember looking up and my dad was looking at me in the rear view mirror and he nodded. That’s all that was needed. I didn’t want to go back after the week was up. I didn’t want to fight and I didn’t want to deal with anymore shit, but my mindset had changed. I knew I could stand up for myself. I had taken the bully down. I remember my mom telling me to keep my head up and fuck any of those stupid kids if they gave me any shit. I remember thinking, huh, okay, I can think fuck those kids. So did. I walked in the doors, looked around, the kids gave me a wide birth. A few shot me shitty looks and I just stared at them and they turned away. I started not caring where I sat, I moved my ass up to the front of the church to prove a point. Yank me back. Try it. I asked questions in religion class. They weren’t welcomed. I always heard the same thing. It’s what’s in the bible so that’s the truth. I remember asking if the teacher always believed every thing she read. I got sent home. My parents told off the principal and teacher and as it was the ending the year they put me back into public school the following. By seventh grade I was wearing all back, listening to rock and roll, punk, metal, wearing black lipstick and had my hair spiked. I certainly didn’t fit in but I didn’t care either. And my rosary had long been flung in the trash. I had my headphones on when I wasn’t in class and hung out with the other “weirdos”. I was moderately happy, but it would be years for the anger that would build to die. I was going through puberty, no one is secure at that time, but I was myself and growing into it more and more.
Now, in my early twenties, life had served me plate, after plate, after plate of shit. I’d had it. I went looking for dirty looks, judgment and had a shit attitude and outlook. I got in fights, I started them physically. Cleaning up helped knock that shit off. I banged the boulders off my shoulders and cleaned up my inside, exterior and life. My confidence was still there, I still dressed and looked the way I wanted. I led the life I wanted that didn’t harm myself or others and I didn’t have blinders on, I could help people, I didn’t notice anyone unless they needed help. I still don’t. I don’t pay attention to other people around me because I simply don’t care. There’s no point. Until they hurt someone or someone needs help. Other than that, I’m just me. Be free. Be who you want, become who you want. Trash the box you were once trapped in and help other people trash their box. That’s why I’m writing this shit.
Nobody should feel like they have to live in a box. Feel isolated in fitting in and following the leader. And here’s the thing. If some mother fucker, and this could be family, people in your surroundings, society, etc. that try to box you in, that make you feel small or tell you, you have to be a certain way or else they’ll turn their back on you. Fuck ‘em. The amount of people I’ve cut out of my life because of that shit would make a body count that you’d need a crane to start taking it down. Societal expectations to fit in, blend in, head down, mouth shut, get in line; kiss my ass. Fucked up family members, kiss my ass. People I thought were friends or people I was stuck having to associate with in certain circumstances, like work, etc., kiss my ass. Stay off my ass and I’ll stay off yours and Satan help you should I see you shoving someone around that is trying to break the mold and or be themselves. Then you’ve got my attention. And I won’t use violence, I won’t spit a bunch of random profanities; I’ll educate your ass, leaving you mentally limping back to your hole you crawled out of to mull over what kind of poison you’re infecting others with. And then help the one(s) they knocked down and help them shrug it off and use it to build their platform.
Now it’s been a long time since I gave a shit and wanted to fit in and be liked. Since that day in 6th grade. Now that was a long ass time ago. I don’t remember what it was like to he honest. And what do I always harp on about? Educate before you open your mouth. Use it for good. The more we learn, the more we experience, the more we can use that to help others, feel that freedom in ourselves with the power of knowledge we can use it to cut ignorant mother fuckers down, to help stop the spread of bullshit.
So I did an experiment. I didn’t plan it. I knew this was what I was going to write about, but I was pulling into Target Sunday, looking like I do, all black, long sundress that looked like something straight out of Salem and jewelry that had occult symbols on it. I didn’t think anything of it. I got up, cleaned up my house, put my makeup on and went in my closet and thought what do want to wear today? And I put it on without a thought of anything other than that and got in my car. Pulling in it hit me that I hadn’t experienced the feeling of feeling like shit in a long time, the fear, the doubt of becoming myself, living how I do, dressing how I do, feeling the way I do and not caring what the hell people think. I don’t notice them like I said. Shit’s a blur.
Now society has progressed since I was the snot nosed sixth grader and a lot more has become accepted. Granted the South has a real wretched case of arrested development. It’s failed the second grade 10 times over and isn’t trying real hard to advance to the third grade. I needed to see for myself what we’re dealing with. What someone, all of those wanting to break out of their shells were dealing with, which granted there’s a plethora of situations with society and people I’ll never experience personally, but I do my best to listen, to to understand so I can help and rise with them. But to these clowns in the South, with the way I look, I figured I wouldn’t go unnoticed, even though I didn’t notice them, except for when they were fleeing the isles in Barnes and Noble. So in I went. Ready to watch their faces.
A few minutes in, not even, I was being stared at, backed away from, whispered about, people stopped in their tracks to do an up and down. I looked at my list to get my shit, and I’ll be honest with you, I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of there. I was sick of it. The mother fucker’s judging eyes, after they’d all been saved earlier that day and had an extra boost of false self-righteousness and a full week ahead to be shit heads until they could walk back into the four walls they gathered in to be forgiven again, learning nothing and not taking responsibility for their actions. That shit is laden around here.
I was mad. I was fucking pissed. I could feel for every person these assholes would give those looks to, knowing if they weren’t at the point I was how crushing it would be. How it stops someone from being themselves in all aspects, to be free, to be themselves without caring what these peon’s thought. What those trying to come out of their box would feel and how bad they would want to crawl back in it, how it could drop that chip on someone’s shoulder that had gone through the metamorphosis. My metaphorical fangs were out by the time I flung the last thing I needed in my cart. I could see the check out from there. I didn’t avert my eyes. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there before I made a scene of, do you mother fuckers have any god damn idea of what your ignorant, stupid, mindless fuck asses are doing to people? Look in the mirror and tell me how good you feel about yourself? You probably can’t even do that! Now that tirade would do no one anyone any good. It would just enforce the stereotype that anyone who looked different, who wasn’t in their club of ignorance really was a fucking psycho and a menace. And a dumb one. So I walked faster. Almost to the finish line. Then this mother fucker, stopped his cart right in front of me, looked me up and down, his body jerked back and the look on his face was as if he’d just eaten a rotten piece of meat. “What the…”, went through my head, “fuck” came out, then, “eh…fuck it” and I swerved around him, checked out, jammed my card in the money eater slot and grabbed my bags and got the hell out of there. I got in my car blasting Combichrist and calmed my ass down. I had to see it and I couldn’t unsee it. I wanted to eviscerate everyone in there and knew that was only a miniscule iota of the population. I was done experimenting and I needed to settle and let the shit resonate.
So here’s the thing. Yes, people will look at you. They will judge you. They will make shitty faces and say shitty things. But here’s the deal. THEY do it out of fear. They do it because you’ve broken the mold and think for yourself and that scares the ever living shit out of them. They’re afraid and ignorant and it puts a tiny crack in their glass house. They’re worried you’ll make it pour rocks and smash their house to bits. The bigots, hypocrites, numb, dumb and cowards. They all live in fear filled, glass houses and want to cover their faces to not feel out of their self and society made comfort zone. One made of beliefs based on fallacy and conformity. They don’t want freedom; they want to be in the herd. Maybe a few don’t, maybe they’re staring because when they see you walking with confidence, looking like you, not giving a fuck, going about your business not even noticing anyone around you; you’ve just given them the inspiration, even just the little that they needed to start their metamorphosis. Hope that they can be their own individual fully and unadulterated. Free without giving a fuck. And the rest. Fuck ‘em. Do you think I give flying fuck what Tom, Dick or Sally thinks of me? Hell No. The shit doesn’t even cross my mind and I don’t even see Tom, Dick or Sally and if they pass me in the street I’m sure as hell not thinking about them and their lives. Unless Tom, Dick or Sally drops their keys and I hear it, I’ll turn around, grab their keys and hand them back, and go about my merry way thinking about whatever swirl of shit is in my head, nothing having to do with what people are thinking about me. The only time I give a shit about what people think about me is if I’m being a true asshole. I don’t want to be that. And if I am, fucking tell me. I’ll be like, fuck, shit man, I’m sorry. I’ll reflect on that shit and make a god damn valiant effort not to do whatever I did or said that made me a true asshole. I’m human. I can be an asshole. That’s when I care what people think. And I’m fortunate to have a circle of friends that will tell me and they don’t have to worry about what I’ll think of them for checking my ass other and knowing that I’m grateful for it.
It’s a process. It’s baby steps. The world, society and people are cruel. They always will be. But you don’t have to let it define you. Defy it. Become all that you are, who you feel and know deep down that you are, revel in it, take flight in it, let yourself be free, not held captive by fear of what anyone thinks. Damn them all. Your life isn’t theirs. It’s yours and yours alone. Live it freely and passionately. Become and create the picture you have in your head of the life and you that you want to be and turn it into reality.
If I can do it, so can you. It won’t be easy, it will suck, but in the end it’s worth it. And soon, years will pass and you’ll be just like me where you literally go, oh yeah, I haven’t given a fuck in like over two decades going on three. Hell, that will hit you sooner, give it a year.
Go out, try it, burn the box, go through your own personal metamorphosis and come back to this piece in a year and tell me it didn’t work…. (yes, that’s a challenge)…
And if it hasn’t, let’s work on it.
Until next time…
Individuality, what is it? And not going by Webster’s, that source doesn’t cover it completely. It’s being who you are on the inside, who you feel you are, appearing the way you want, what you feel is you, you thinking freely, and your lifestyle is yours and yours alone, one you’ve created that is you, all encompassing. And the big point of it all; you don’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks about it. Granted this is a slippery slope… This doesn’t mean be an asshole, wave your asshole flag around and treat people like shit. Maybe that’s an “individual”, but there’s a poison in them and nobody likes that or needs that. So before I go any further, if you’re trying to enhance your individuality, or come out of your shell and live freely being yourself, which this is about, don’t be a dick about it.
People have told me more times than I can count, (and I’d like to think I can count pretty high), that they wish they could be like me in the way I dress, how I don’t care what people think, how I live freely and have no fences and go about life to the beat of my own drum. Now this pisses me off. Not because I think it’s a dumb statement or annoying, it’s because someone or something has made the people who reach out to me feel this way. That they can’t. Whether it’s society, other people or fear. That shit sucks. And I always start with it’s all in the art of not giving a fuck of what people think of you. Once you take that factor out you’re golden, you’re free. To be what you want, who you want and live the way you want. Once you stop worrying what other’s think it gives one a great freedom to cut loose and be who they feel they are on the inside, and that then flows out into one’s appearance, whatever it may be and their lifestyle and thought pattern. You don’t notice people anymore. Unless you see someone in need. When you’re free you become nicer, more helpful, more compassionate. The fear is gone and one becomes fearless and the desire to help others grow and heal takes over innately. Granted that’s if you’re not an asshole about it.
And by being an asshole I mean the fuck everyone else mentality. And walking around with a chip on your shoulder. Then you’ve become the one that makes people feel like shit and go inside themselves. In the metamorphosis of self, I think we all go through this. Hell, in my early twenties I was a roaring asshole. I had a massive chip on my shoulder, I had the come fuck with me attitude. I was looking for a fight. Granted I was always loaded, so that didn’t help. But I still had a chip on my shoulder. Now when you feel that chip show up, that you’re better than everyone else because you’re not one of them and you’re too busy thinking about that, you miss the old lady in the parking lot who dropped her grocery bag and needs help picking it up. And well, kids, you actually do give a fuck about what people think if you’re looking for people to start shit with because of how you look or how you come off. You’re still trapped, so when you feel that chip, flick it off, dust your shoulder off, maybe both, I had to do both; and twist your head back on straight.
Now this process isn’t easy. It doesn’t happen overnight and it downright sucks sometimes. You’re overcoming fear and breaking away from the pack. We’re herd animals, you’re breaking biology. At points you’ll be uncomfortable. You’ll be scared. You’ll want to go back into hiding. Don’t. Once you’ve gotten through that stage, which is the longest, you get a high, that first pure and unadulterated breath of freedom. Then the chip lands. If you’re going through your metamorphosis now, you know it will come and the same if you are just thinking about breaking out of your shell. Just remember not to fall into the chip trap. I’m being repetitive, but that shit’s important, the world doesn’t need any more assholes, we’ve got enough. We need more individuals, more people that are free that can help fix this weird, fucked up world we’re living in that needs saving.
Now as for me, how and when did this happen? It starts with confidence, that’s what not giving a fuck what people think about you and your life is. Anybody that tells you you’re either born with confidence or not, and if you don’t have it you’re screwed is full of shit. Confidence is something that builds. Something that builds over time, and sometimes it explodes out of you like an alien ripping out of some poor bastard’s torso like a bat out hell. That’s how it was for me. I’ll tell you the story. Yes it involves violence, and I’m not condoning it, (but the bitch had it coming), but you don’t have to have it born out of violence to have it shine through you and take over into your whole being.
I was in 6th grade at a small Catholic school. I wasn’t Catholic and this was an Irish Catholic school so my non-Catholic ass wasn’t welcomed as my poor parents thought it would be. They thought it would be a better education. Turns out the stupid principal was straight out of Ireland so I was fucked. The kids were told by their parents I was the Devil, he let that narrative run. The kids would call me this, I was picked last for teams, I sat alone at lunch, if I sat at a table kids would get up and put their hands on their face as a blinder. I got beat up and shoved around. I didn’t know why, I was a kid, I didn’t grasp the hypocrisy of Christianity at the time. I had to sit in the back of the church and couldn’t take communion. I was ostracized, criticized and bullied. I thought the stupid band of beads with the dead guy on the end would help me. If I prayed enough, if I was nice, if I kept trying to fit in that maybe they’d stop and include me and like me. Stop shoving me and covering their faces. I cared what they thought. I behaved and sat in the back. I shut up in religion classes when I didn’t understand something or thought something didn’t make any damn sense. Then one day I cracked.
After I got socked hanging the flag my dad taught me how to throw a punch. He told me then and I haven’t forgotten it, he told me, “Kid, you don’t start a fight, but you finish it.” It’s how I learned how to not break my thumb in my fist or swing like I was throwing a softball. Granted my parents tried. They went to that school a million times, called parents, went to parent’s houses and it still didn’t stop. They tell me now they wished they had pulled me out of that hellhole sooner, but my answer has always been, no, it built the foundation of who I am today. If it weren’t for those little assholes and shits in charge I might be a little bitch or a bully. Because that can happen too. You get knocked down enough, you either stay knocked down, insecurity takes over, or you become a bigger asshole than the ones that gave you shit. But there’s a third outcome. You learn from it, you grow from it and you shed the sheepskin and come into your own.
So this bitch that had always fucked with me and was the leader of the pack of turds came up to me when I was on the swings reading a book. She was a big bitch; as in large sized. I was a twig with glasses and braces. That didn’t help my situation either. She came over with her little posse and told me to get off the swing. She wanted it. This time I didn’t close my book and get up and find another place to sit alone, I said no. She got shitty, my answer was still no. She told me she’d knock me off it and I dropped my book on the ground and just looked at her. Needless to say she cracked me in the face, I fell off the swing and my glasses were broken lying somewhere on the ground. Without a second thought I got up and went to the swing, grabbed one of the chains and with all my twig ass might tried to wrap that bitch’s throat in the swing chain, I didn’t let up until I was ripped off by nuns and teachers. I remember turning around staring at her as I was hauled off by both arms to be sat outside the principal’s office and wait for my parents to come get me. The girl’s parents had apologized for their dumbass kid’s behavior before, they weren’t pressing charges and didn’t want me expelled. We both got a week suspension.
On the ride home I was silent. My parents were quiet. I was waiting to get chewed out. I remember looking up and my dad was looking at me in the rear view mirror and he nodded. That’s all that was needed. I didn’t want to go back after the week was up. I didn’t want to fight and I didn’t want to deal with anymore shit, but my mindset had changed. I knew I could stand up for myself. I had taken the bully down. I remember my mom telling me to keep my head up and fuck any of those stupid kids if they gave me any shit. I remember thinking, huh, okay, I can think fuck those kids. So did. I walked in the doors, looked around, the kids gave me a wide birth. A few shot me shitty looks and I just stared at them and they turned away. I started not caring where I sat, I moved my ass up to the front of the church to prove a point. Yank me back. Try it. I asked questions in religion class. They weren’t welcomed. I always heard the same thing. It’s what’s in the bible so that’s the truth. I remember asking if the teacher always believed every thing she read. I got sent home. My parents told off the principal and teacher and as it was the ending the year they put me back into public school the following. By seventh grade I was wearing all back, listening to rock and roll, punk, metal, wearing black lipstick and had my hair spiked. I certainly didn’t fit in but I didn’t care either. And my rosary had long been flung in the trash. I had my headphones on when I wasn’t in class and hung out with the other “weirdos”. I was moderately happy, but it would be years for the anger that would build to die. I was going through puberty, no one is secure at that time, but I was myself and growing into it more and more.
Now, in my early twenties, life had served me plate, after plate, after plate of shit. I’d had it. I went looking for dirty looks, judgment and had a shit attitude and outlook. I got in fights, I started them physically. Cleaning up helped knock that shit off. I banged the boulders off my shoulders and cleaned up my inside, exterior and life. My confidence was still there, I still dressed and looked the way I wanted. I led the life I wanted that didn’t harm myself or others and I didn’t have blinders on, I could help people, I didn’t notice anyone unless they needed help. I still don’t. I don’t pay attention to other people around me because I simply don’t care. There’s no point. Until they hurt someone or someone needs help. Other than that, I’m just me. Be free. Be who you want, become who you want. Trash the box you were once trapped in and help other people trash their box. That’s why I’m writing this shit.
Nobody should feel like they have to live in a box. Feel isolated in fitting in and following the leader. And here’s the thing. If some mother fucker, and this could be family, people in your surroundings, society, etc. that try to box you in, that make you feel small or tell you, you have to be a certain way or else they’ll turn their back on you. Fuck ‘em. The amount of people I’ve cut out of my life because of that shit would make a body count that you’d need a crane to start taking it down. Societal expectations to fit in, blend in, head down, mouth shut, get in line; kiss my ass. Fucked up family members, kiss my ass. People I thought were friends or people I was stuck having to associate with in certain circumstances, like work, etc., kiss my ass. Stay off my ass and I’ll stay off yours and Satan help you should I see you shoving someone around that is trying to break the mold and or be themselves. Then you’ve got my attention. And I won’t use violence, I won’t spit a bunch of random profanities; I’ll educate your ass, leaving you mentally limping back to your hole you crawled out of to mull over what kind of poison you’re infecting others with. And then help the one(s) they knocked down and help them shrug it off and use it to build their platform.
Now it’s been a long time since I gave a shit and wanted to fit in and be liked. Since that day in 6th grade. Now that was a long ass time ago. I don’t remember what it was like to he honest. And what do I always harp on about? Educate before you open your mouth. Use it for good. The more we learn, the more we experience, the more we can use that to help others, feel that freedom in ourselves with the power of knowledge we can use it to cut ignorant mother fuckers down, to help stop the spread of bullshit.
So I did an experiment. I didn’t plan it. I knew this was what I was going to write about, but I was pulling into Target Sunday, looking like I do, all black, long sundress that looked like something straight out of Salem and jewelry that had occult symbols on it. I didn’t think anything of it. I got up, cleaned up my house, put my makeup on and went in my closet and thought what do want to wear today? And I put it on without a thought of anything other than that and got in my car. Pulling in it hit me that I hadn’t experienced the feeling of feeling like shit in a long time, the fear, the doubt of becoming myself, living how I do, dressing how I do, feeling the way I do and not caring what the hell people think. I don’t notice them like I said. Shit’s a blur.
Now society has progressed since I was the snot nosed sixth grader and a lot more has become accepted. Granted the South has a real wretched case of arrested development. It’s failed the second grade 10 times over and isn’t trying real hard to advance to the third grade. I needed to see for myself what we’re dealing with. What someone, all of those wanting to break out of their shells were dealing with, which granted there’s a plethora of situations with society and people I’ll never experience personally, but I do my best to listen, to to understand so I can help and rise with them. But to these clowns in the South, with the way I look, I figured I wouldn’t go unnoticed, even though I didn’t notice them, except for when they were fleeing the isles in Barnes and Noble. So in I went. Ready to watch their faces.
A few minutes in, not even, I was being stared at, backed away from, whispered about, people stopped in their tracks to do an up and down. I looked at my list to get my shit, and I’ll be honest with you, I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of there. I was sick of it. The mother fucker’s judging eyes, after they’d all been saved earlier that day and had an extra boost of false self-righteousness and a full week ahead to be shit heads until they could walk back into the four walls they gathered in to be forgiven again, learning nothing and not taking responsibility for their actions. That shit is laden around here.
I was mad. I was fucking pissed. I could feel for every person these assholes would give those looks to, knowing if they weren’t at the point I was how crushing it would be. How it stops someone from being themselves in all aspects, to be free, to be themselves without caring what these peon’s thought. What those trying to come out of their box would feel and how bad they would want to crawl back in it, how it could drop that chip on someone’s shoulder that had gone through the metamorphosis. My metaphorical fangs were out by the time I flung the last thing I needed in my cart. I could see the check out from there. I didn’t avert my eyes. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there before I made a scene of, do you mother fuckers have any god damn idea of what your ignorant, stupid, mindless fuck asses are doing to people? Look in the mirror and tell me how good you feel about yourself? You probably can’t even do that! Now that tirade would do no one anyone any good. It would just enforce the stereotype that anyone who looked different, who wasn’t in their club of ignorance really was a fucking psycho and a menace. And a dumb one. So I walked faster. Almost to the finish line. Then this mother fucker, stopped his cart right in front of me, looked me up and down, his body jerked back and the look on his face was as if he’d just eaten a rotten piece of meat. “What the…”, went through my head, “fuck” came out, then, “eh…fuck it” and I swerved around him, checked out, jammed my card in the money eater slot and grabbed my bags and got the hell out of there. I got in my car blasting Combichrist and calmed my ass down. I had to see it and I couldn’t unsee it. I wanted to eviscerate everyone in there and knew that was only a miniscule iota of the population. I was done experimenting and I needed to settle and let the shit resonate.
So here’s the thing. Yes, people will look at you. They will judge you. They will make shitty faces and say shitty things. But here’s the deal. THEY do it out of fear. They do it because you’ve broken the mold and think for yourself and that scares the ever living shit out of them. They’re afraid and ignorant and it puts a tiny crack in their glass house. They’re worried you’ll make it pour rocks and smash their house to bits. The bigots, hypocrites, numb, dumb and cowards. They all live in fear filled, glass houses and want to cover their faces to not feel out of their self and society made comfort zone. One made of beliefs based on fallacy and conformity. They don’t want freedom; they want to be in the herd. Maybe a few don’t, maybe they’re staring because when they see you walking with confidence, looking like you, not giving a fuck, going about your business not even noticing anyone around you; you’ve just given them the inspiration, even just the little that they needed to start their metamorphosis. Hope that they can be their own individual fully and unadulterated. Free without giving a fuck. And the rest. Fuck ‘em. Do you think I give flying fuck what Tom, Dick or Sally thinks of me? Hell No. The shit doesn’t even cross my mind and I don’t even see Tom, Dick or Sally and if they pass me in the street I’m sure as hell not thinking about them and their lives. Unless Tom, Dick or Sally drops their keys and I hear it, I’ll turn around, grab their keys and hand them back, and go about my merry way thinking about whatever swirl of shit is in my head, nothing having to do with what people are thinking about me. The only time I give a shit about what people think about me is if I’m being a true asshole. I don’t want to be that. And if I am, fucking tell me. I’ll be like, fuck, shit man, I’m sorry. I’ll reflect on that shit and make a god damn valiant effort not to do whatever I did or said that made me a true asshole. I’m human. I can be an asshole. That’s when I care what people think. And I’m fortunate to have a circle of friends that will tell me and they don’t have to worry about what I’ll think of them for checking my ass other and knowing that I’m grateful for it.
It’s a process. It’s baby steps. The world, society and people are cruel. They always will be. But you don’t have to let it define you. Defy it. Become all that you are, who you feel and know deep down that you are, revel in it, take flight in it, let yourself be free, not held captive by fear of what anyone thinks. Damn them all. Your life isn’t theirs. It’s yours and yours alone. Live it freely and passionately. Become and create the picture you have in your head of the life and you that you want to be and turn it into reality.
If I can do it, so can you. It won’t be easy, it will suck, but in the end it’s worth it. And soon, years will pass and you’ll be just like me where you literally go, oh yeah, I haven’t given a fuck in like over two decades going on three. Hell, that will hit you sooner, give it a year.
Go out, try it, burn the box, go through your own personal metamorphosis and come back to this piece in a year and tell me it didn’t work…. (yes, that’s a challenge)…
And if it hasn’t, let’s work on it.
Until next time…