The music they constantly play says nothing to me about my life

It’s official. I think I’m an addict. I knew this blogging was a bad idea.

I’m a little afraid I might be kind of a weird girl. It doesn’t bother me, generally speaking, but sometimes it’s the little things that trip you up. For example, it occurred to me last night that while I consider myself a chocoholic, I think I actually prefer maple flavoring. Definitely not vanilla, but maple? Isn’t that the mark of a crazy? And really, almond is better than all of them.

Further evidence—the other night I had the strangest dream I was Shelly Duvall and having an affair with Herve Villechaize who was playing Rumpelstiltskin, because I’d already figured out his name and I wasn’t willing to give him my first-born child for him to spin straw into gold. Now, I’ve nothing against little people (I dated a guy who was in the whole dwarfish range—nice fella), but really. Why couldn’t I have a dream about someone normal like Matt Lauer or Johnny Depp? And speaking of my dating habits, who else do you know who has gone out with a priest—an honest-to-goodness Catholic priest? This might speak to my fear of commitment.

I also often find other paradoxes in my life and practices. On the one hand, I read the article on MSN today about all the folks posing in this month’s Vanity Fair. Scarlett Johansson and Kiera Knightley are naked on the cover. I honestly don’t believe they’re doing it for artistic reasons but to get further publicity for their movies. I think it’s terrible that they are willing to prostitute themselves like that. On the other hand, there was also the MSN article about the top ten topless beaches in the world, and I can’t honestly say I wouldn’t consider going to one. But then again, I’ve never changed clothes in front of someone, so I can’t imagine putting myself out there. And we’re not even beginning to touch on how my religious beliefs totally prohibit that kind of behavior. But for someone who thinks she’s so morally against something, it surprised me to find I did want to know which were the top beaches.

Anyway, I guess it’s always a little jarring when you figure out that you don’t know as much about yourself as you’d like to think or pretend. Last night I was talking to this kid and he told me that I was weird but that at least I wasn’t boring, so today I wore layered polo shirts to prove I could fit in to whatever hack fashion is in style at the moment if I wanted to. Is it weird to rebel by actually conforming?

And I’m still doing my darndest to break out of the little clique I’ve found myself in, all while maintaining the friendships I have with the individual members. These folks aren’t bad in an excluding way (generally speaking and with very few exceptions), but they kind of want to run my life. I’m on the bad list if I don’t go on the weekend road trip, or if I choose to not go out to eat because they frequent the lard-on-a-plate eateries more than I can handle (which honestly isn’t much these days).
But this whole distancing gig is a lot tougher than I remembered. When the same thing used to happen in junior high and high school, it was just a lot easier to cut those folks out completely. I don’t want to do that now, but even my closest friends seem much more distant now. Again, I don’t mind too much, but as our good friend Bob Dylan said, “The times they are a-changin’.” It probably sounds prideful and foolish, but if it makes me have to start over again, I guess that’ll be the price, and I’m willing to pay. Loneliness isn’t ideal but I can’t imagine anything worth giving up the plan to name one of my future children after Lady Elaine Fairchild from Mister Roger’s Neighborhood because the circle doesn’t approve of pop-culture names. Elaine Fairchild is the one Rumpelstiltskin wanted to take away, by the way.