I cannot remember a time in my life when I was not considered "weird, quirky, strange, odd or different." My mother loves to tell this story about when I was in brownies in the first grade. It was Halloween, and everyone in the troop was decorating pumpkins. We all had paint, glitter, glue, markers and all of the stuff you would need to draw a nice image on your pumpkin. My mother picked me up and I was the only one left still working at the craft table. The other girls were off playing somewhere. I noticed my mother and held up my pumpkin with such pride. My mother was horrified. While ever other girl had painted a face or a halloween scene on their pumpkin, I made what my mother called "a splattered mess." I was so happy with my pumpkin. It was colorful. It was fun. It was not like everyone else's. Apparently, it was similar in style to a Jackson Pollack splatter painting (How my mother couldn't appreciate this is beyond me). I do not remember this, but it makes sense. I hated having things that everyone else had. I never purposely tried to be different, but I would never follow suit with all the other girls. I just did what I felt was right for me. I wore glow in the dark zebra converse while the other girls wore L.A. Gear. In a time of giant mall hair, I cut all of mine off to look like Donnie from N.K.O.T.B -complete with rat tail. However, have no fear; I was able to tease that up real high!
Quirky is a word that is getting tossed around a lot lately thanks to the amazing, Zooey Deschanel. Is quirky becoming commonplace? I doubt it, but it sure is nice not to feel like such an outcast all the time. Its also nice to know that a quirky girl can have legions of female fans who appreciate her style. Most people feel that you simply cannot call yourself quirky; it is something that people assume about you. I guess this is true. I never found myself to be completely weird, but I will say that I enjoy not being a carbon copy of other girls I know.
I love to make up songs about what I am doing. I wish life was a musical. I like to pretend to be a troll and dance in a way in which I imagine trolls to dance. I pretend my French bulldog has an accent and understands the few french words I say to her. I dream about being a crazy old lady and dressing up in head to toe sequins to go to the supermarket and possibly crash high school dances. Is this quirky? Maybe, but it is all me.
The Huffington Post had a great video on the time line of quirky girls. Watch it here