Remember about a month ago, I started a new series called Traveler-Wannabe? Remember?
And I told you I was going to tell you stuff about my trip to Portland and Seattle. Remember?
Well, I’m still doing that. It’s just taking me longer than I thought it would. But in my defense I DID say it would take me a really long time. Here’s a little something-something from Portland. It’s about not fitting in. Perhaps you can relate?
I KNEW FROM THE MOMENT I SAW A GROUP OF GIRLS FROM MY HOSTEL IN PORTLAND ALL DRESSED IN BLACK AND ALL FANCY, THAT I WASN’T GOING TO FIT IN.
A group of us were headed to the Fourth Of July WDS party that was being held in an old elementary school or something where they had a bar(s) and bathrooms that looked this.
You see, I wasn’t wearing black. No. I was too lazy to change out of my hiking clothes from that morning. Whereas the other girls showered, got dressed (in black), actually put on a real bra (instead of sports one), and slapped makeup on their faces.
I didn’t slap anything on. Unless you count deodorant. Then I did slap something on.
This is what I wore.
The thing is, I don’t fit in.
In school, I’ve never really been able to fit in. I never really belonged to a clique or just hung out with one group of people. I mean, I wasn’t like a complete loner, but I wasn’t exactly prom queen.
In work situations, I’ve never really been able to fit in. I almost always feel like the odd duck, ESPECIALLY if people are awkwardly socializing in front of me and I’m awkwardly staring at a computer pretending to work.
In my family, I’ve never really been able to fit in. I mean, I’ve always been the weird kid who doesn’t interact with her relatives or doesn’t really say anything to them and then I get funny looks and then I secretly wish that booze was allowed at my family gatherings because I totally could use a drink right about now.
PERHAPS IT’S THE FACT THAT I’M PRETTY QUIET IN MANY SITUATIONS. I mean, I don’t do it on purpose. I’ve always been a quiet kid. This will easily label me as an introvert or dare I say it, shy. Yup, people tend to call me shy a lot, which sometimes-almost-all-the-time makes me want to punch them in the face. I hate it when people label me if I have nothing to add to the conversation, or if I’m just sitting, alone, not saying anything to anyone. It doesn’t mean I’m antisocial. It just means the amount you publicly/ socially speak really doesn’t have anything to do with your ability to do so.
Jeez. I mean, so what if I sometimes-almost-all-the-time hide when I feel uncomfortable in social situations. Or secretly internet stalk people and then when I meet them in real life I have absolutely no idea what to say to them and then I try to act like I know what I’m doing but deep down inside I have know idea what I’m doing. And I think everyone around me knows it, too.
I’m not sure what it is. I’ve just always kind of been strangely strange.
And I’m not saying that because I’m trying to make a point about how different and unique and blah blah blah I am. No, I’m trying to say that I DON’T FIT IN. And sometime I kind of wish I did.
Sometimes, I wish I did pack a little black dress on my recent trip instead of a bunch of yoga pants when I didn’t even really do any yoga.
I’m the weirdo who doesn’t even comb her hair in the morning and will sometimes-almost-all the time end up looking like this.
But sometimes you don’t need to have something black in your suitcase. You just need to be who you are. I’m not sure who I am exactly, but I know I don’t need to put on eyeliner every morning (or any morning) to step out into the world. I don’t need to comb my hair most of time because I can just let it normal curl/wave up and I’m OK with it. I don’t need to add to your conversation about the worse way you’ve ever been dumped or get invited out to trivia night. I don’t need booze at my family gatherings…er, actually, I take that back.
You see, I don’t need any of that. I don’t need to fit in. But sometimes you just kind of want to. You want to not feel like a complete and total freak when you’re trying to hang out with the cool kids. You want to add something to conversation, even if you have nothing to say. You want to fit in.
Whatever. Who needs to fit in anyway?
And, besides, my WDS hostel friends accepted me. Even if I was wearing a sports bra and no makeup (because that’s how everybody chooses their friends, right?). They even let me share a cab with them to the Fourth Of July party. Then let me watch fireworks with them by the waterfront. And I took this picture of them when they weren’t looking.
And they even invited me into their secret Facebook group, inspired by a conversation that I wasn’t a part of. It has something to do with potatoes. Yeah, I don’t get it either. It’s OK because I just happen to like potatoes.
So yeah, I may not fit in somtimes-almost-all-the-time but that’s OK, right? And so what if I I had a mental breakdown in the middle of pioneer square at the closing WDS party. Uh, yeah, that’s a different story for another time on a different blog.
Jeez, you guys, I’m not going to tell you everything that happened on this trip. What kind of a blog do you think this is?
Do you ever feel like you don’t fit in? Because I totally don’t fit in. Anywhere.