<———– That’s me, before I realized I was awkward. Maybe I knew subconsciously and that’s why I’m not smiling. Maybe I’m not smiling because I had on a short set and church shoes (shoes not shown). Thanks a lot, Mum.
How am I supposed to start this? Blogs are an enigma to me. I still can’t figure out why someone would be so vain as to start a blog. Are you that important? Apparently I fall into that category now because here I am… blogging it up. Is my vanity showing? Someone get me a church cloth and cover that up.
Now, let me start with this disclaimer. This is my blog. On my blog, I am allowed to write what I think. That’s the whole point. You are free to disagree with me on my blog, but if you disrespect me I will digitally zap you. You’ve been warned.
Here’s how I want you to keep me accountable. I am supposed to be relaxed when I blog. For me, that means that my language should be relaxed. Things happen a certain way in my mind, but don’t always end up in print that way. It is because I am a member of the Grammar Police Force. I am horrified of being judged for poor syntax or any other abuse of language (because this is what I do to others, lol!). It’s like there is a force makes me immediately begin to use esoteric verbiage that adequately expresses the faux bourgeois person I am. Do you see what I mean? We can’t have that. You should never need a dictionary to read someone’s blog unless it’s Maya Angelou. She is a heroine to the English language. She can write whatever she wants.
Anyway, last night when I decided to write this, I had some wonderfully witty ideas about how I would wow you. I even made myself laugh a few times. They were that good. Then I went into a comatose sleep. Now those ideas are resting in peace and I’m sorta just staring at the screen. The truth is I’m not really good at talking about myself. I think it’s a bit weird. It’s like singing lead and backup at the same time (cough, cough Brian McKnight). I’ve been told that you should let other people honor you and if you are a good enough person, they will. But I want to try something new. I want to see what I’m like from the 3rd person point of view. It’s a stretch, but what else do I have to do? I’m unemployed, it’s raining, and I have allergies. Let me make it, ok?
Oh I know. You may ask yourself what I mean by saying that I am charismatically awkward. What it means is that I’m finding that I think and do awkward things. For example, I don’t have a stopper for my tub but I love bubble baths. So now I just sit [in an empty tub] and read. This made sense when I started it. Looking back, I’m judging myself for this one. This is the kicker though. I wrote this as a status on FB and I was CERTAIN that people were going to proverbially (nerd word alert!!!) stone me for the extreme weirdness of that whole situation, BUT NOBODY DID. Instead, I got suggestions on how to make my bath time a real bath.
This is where the charisma kicks in. I have you all fooled. I do really strange things, but because I was blessed with the gift of charisma I am able to convince you that it isn’t strange at all. Like on ALF. Nobody thought the furry alien was strange? Or E.T. He was an alien riding a bike. What about the Gremlins. I’m not the only one who wanted Gizmo as a pet. Cute and cuddly and all, Gizmo is still a gremlin. Sorry to break it to you. Wait, are my references showing my age? Could I not think of anything strange and mesmerizing that wasn’t made in the 80s? *sigh* I need an upgrade (insert clever iPhone joke here).
So what motivated me to embrace this awkward life, you ask? The MisAdventures of an Awkward Black Girl! Issa Rae got it right. That’s really how it is. There is this whole dialogue you have in your head about the world around you as you try to decipher what’s acceptable for you to do, what’s just a little bit odd, and what will have you committed. You have NO IDEA how many times I’ve wanted to go in a store and just knock stuff off of shelves just to prove I’m a thug. But I don’t because I like thug life on the outside, not locked up. I’m not that real. I don’t look good in orange, especially not an orange onesie. Netflix lied. Orange will never be the new black. Maybe if inmates wore that glitter outfit Rick James had on in the Superfreak video. That might accentuate my bosom. I could do that….maybe.
So here’s what we have: I am an awkward, charismatic, thug wanna-be, African-American Christian who is in love with Spanish (and other sexy languages). In what world did God think any of those things went together? It’s like when normal people sit and enjoy a cold glass of milk with their donuts. What do I get? I get orange juice. I’m the oddball with orange juice and donuts or water and Oreos because I will turn into a pod person if I drink milk. Heaven wouldn’t let me assimilate to the world around me even if I wanted to. It’s one big cosmic joke I tell you. The good side is I think everyone else appreciates the comical fruit produced on this oxymoronic tree that is me. Don’t misunderstand though. I know how to act the part of normal. I’ve seen it enough to mimic it. It’s just that I can’t always maintain it. Like when I’m sleepy. Or sick. Or when stuff just doesn’t make sense. I’m bound to say or do something that will make you sigh but then laugh vigorously on the inside.
Did I also mention the fact that I’m a bit sarcastic? And vain. I think we had a run-in with the vanity at the beginning. The sarcasm shouldn’t surprise you. The vanity, however, surprised me. How is it possible to struggle with inadequacy in beauty and be vain at the same time? That’s the foolery I’ve been trying to tell you about. Maybe YOU can make sense of it. If you do, send me a message explaining it. Don’t call though. Introverts don’t care much for phone conversations. Unless you’re the Argentine husband I’ve been waiting for. Podemos hablar, papito. No hay problema. =) Sí, se puede. Yo quiero Taco Bell. C’est si bon (wait, I think that’s French). It’s a joke. A poorly constructed joke, but a joke nonetheless. But I really do speak Spanish así que……
[Random link insertion]
Well this brings us to an abrupt end because, well, Matlock is on and I can’t multitask. Here’s Rick James to make you smile.
Thanks for putting up with the randomidity (don’t use that; it isn’t a real word) as I try to figure out this blog life. Until next time… viva México and Asta Llama Lainkum (someone do a spell check on that).