Rising Up From The Ashes

I was talking with my advisor at school today. He is a nice guy although he drove me absolutely insane the last time I had to take a class from him. This semester I have enjoyed his teaching style. I think it works better for some subjects than others.

Anyway, he is nice and has been very helpful in trying to guide me through all the requirements that I need to meet so that someday I may be able to be the scientist I have always dreamed of. He struggles with how I look though. He grew up in a small(-ish) Midwestern town and I must assume had a relatively normal childhood and life overall. He cannot understand why I would purposely make my hair bright, unusual hair colors or why I would wear makeup for any purpose other than to be “pretty.” He is sweet about the whole thing and tries to be very kind and considerate about it.

He keeps trying to rationalize it and thinks that there must be rules for how I look. This week my nails are a lovely, bright metallic blue. He was stunned and commented on how he thought I always painted them either dark red or black. What I find amusing is that he was somehow surprised about bright blue. Now if I had come in with a barely there, pastel pink manicure – that would be far more shocking!

I think that for me a major part of why I do what I do is that I find it easier for people to hate me because of the way I look that for most of the other lame ass things they come up with. If you don’t like me because my hair is purple, too bad that is your problem. It is quicker and easier to find out right away that you are superficial than waiting until we start to be friends and then find out that you won’t like me because my house isn’t fancy enough or I don’t attend the right parties or my friends aren’t important enough.

And frankly, I still remember what a pain in the ass it was as a kid to want to do something and be told that I couldn’t because it wasn’t proper. I always wanted fire engine red fingernails as a kid and was not allowed because it wasn’t ‘appropriate’ and only whores wore red polish. FUCK THAT! I will not be defined by the color of my nails, or hair, or any other damn thing!

I do realize that there are some people who do wear the funny colors who are just as bad about defining people by how they look. Who feel that I must wear only black clothes and certain types of shoes… They also want to limit my options. And they can go get bent too! You would think they would know better but they are just as bad – maybe even worse since they are trying to fit in by ‘joining’ some club of outcasts. They don’t get it at all but are pretending to fit in. Pathetic!

Poseurs!

to all the people who insist that I fit into their mold of a what a 'good' person is...