You’re a F@#king Weirdo

weird·o n. pl. weird·oes Slang

1. A person regarded as being very strange or eccentric.2. A deranged, potentially dangerous person.The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language

weirdo weirdie

noun eccentric, nut (slang), freak (informal), flake (slang, chiefly U.S.), crank (informal), loony (slang), nutter (Brit. slang), oddball (informal), crackpot (informal), nutcase (slang), headcase (informal), headbanger (informal), queer fish (Brit. informal) All the other kids at school thought I was a weirdo.

Collins Thesaurus of the English Language

Are you? How do you react when someone calls you a weirdo?

Until searching for the definition I wasn’t aware the word had such negative connotations. If you hear something often enough it loses its edge becomes normal and accepted, which seems to have happened here. The word just comes through as vanilla. I could at this point break into any one of a thousand stories all about weirdness.  My weirdness. Although it has been called eccentricity a few times too. This seems somewhat more dignified and befitting as I get older, kind of like how grey hairs give some men bearing.

dignified

You are a fucking weirdo. Thanks for that. Ever so pleased that you had this opportunity to share with me your thoughts on my personality and general humanity.  There is a rage, seething just below the surface, it carries sharp edged weapons and other devices for inflicting harm. It is OK though, this rage is contained, kept inside a little pouch. Rage with the safety on.  By no means is this rage carried as an implicit threat against any others person. That’s not the reason it is still carried. It is fuel. Picture iron man’s arc reactor.

he man

Anger if left to its own devices will always destroy.  Harnessed it can move mountains, part oceans and heal the sick. This seems a far more productive path on which to tread.

So go ahead and call some one a weirdo today, it’s such a nice thing to do.

A poo wrapped in a bow!

Yesterday I was going somewhere with my post but reading it back today I think I missed the mark or at least got wildly off topic.  I’ve been writing down ideas for posts with pen and paper during the day, then using that as a platform.  The draft is scrawled, barely legible but angry and funny too. Most of this I cut out because I think maybe its too rude or not terribly nice.  Should I?

Constructive criticism. Is it so bad?  I once knew a group of people who were lovely. Really nice people. Full of praise and supportive of each others endeavors.  If someone made a sandwich it was an amazing sandwich.  Painted a picture, fantastic, wonderful.  Made a bracelet, awesome, you should sell those. I heard this praise continually. Good vibes bounced about, positive energy shining. But I got the feeling that someone could take a shit, wrap it up in a bow, place it on the kitchen table and it to would be received by a rousing cheer, trumpets would sound, WOW that’s fantastic, AMAZING, BRILLIANT. No doubt upon closer inspection would be declared the greatest shit ever and declared certifiably organic too.

How do we know if what we are doing is really any good if everything we do is the best thing ever?

 

 

Be careful what you wish for.

While studying at university (Visual Arts) we used to have these things called group reviews. I think they were about once a month. Where the whole year level (about 15-20 students, not a big uni, no) would take turns presenting their work and receiving critique, comments and questions from the group and lecturers.  I was the common feeling that these were days to dread. But not I. Being the incongruous bastard that I am, I loved and looked forward to them.

Who would like to go first?  Group would recede pressing themselves into their seats. I would jump out of my seat, as happy as Larry and full of beans. It wasn’t displaying my work that got me all excited (I do tend to get excited like a child, hey it’s fun) it was what came next. The critique. A chance to verbally spar with my peers, be challenged, picked apart it was intellectual battle. It was why I went to university, and that is an rant all of its own.

I quickly learnt after a couple of these group reviews that this was not to be. Everybody was quick with the platitudes, scathing critique, no were to be seen. Everyone was so nice and lovely and there were fluffy bunny’s that hopped about through fresh green grass spotted with rainbows and candy canes.  It was not war but a love fest.

So I changed tack, that’s right readers, I displayed some fucking adaptability. (If you missed an earlier post that’s my favorite quote from my favorite book so I do like to use it) I decided to go last and all day long would ask most awkward questions(this spun off into an entire semesters work and yes I am bracket crazy today)I could think of.  Challenging my peers in hope that by the end of the day they would collectively think “stuff this bloke, let’s hammer him”. But no, nothing, narda, nix.

When I queried my mentoring lecturer about this, I received a question in response. Why are all your ideas wrapped up so tight and why are you in such a hurry? BAM!!!!! Knocked me flat on my arse. I didn’t have an answer to this. I had nothing, narda, nix.  I staged a tactical retreat and nursed my wounds, thinking and thinking and thinking. Stumped. Was for years.

Until the other day.

Ideas wrapped up so tight?

I spend a great deal of time preparing my work and my thoughts about it. Researching and doing my homework. Stepping outside myself to probe my own work for holes and gain an objective view. All this results in ideas that are well formed and considered. Ideas being wrapped up tight seems to have a negative connotation. This was an excellent question.

Why am I in such a hurry?

Because the clock is ticking, the world is spinning and time waits for no man (or woman). I don’t have all the time in the world, could have yes, but may be dead tomorrow. So if I piss today up the wall maybe I don’t get tomorrow.  Yes yes, by all means make time to smell the roses, stop and ponder things and enjoy the beauty of a sunrise, but get moving again and keep the ball rolling.