It's time that I let you all in on something that you may not be aware of.
I'm a dork.
I'm a huge, mo' fo' snotty nosed, hat wearing, Sims playing, CoPs wathcing, CHiP Sunglass wearing, don't own a single pair of Flare Pants Dork.
I'm the daughter of dorks. At family functions, my Dad always pulls out the Potato Cannon he made out of PVC pipe and we shoot potatos at passing traffic and Stop signs. My Mom has a "Martha Stewart Doesn't Live Here" sign hanging on the front of her house and has a magnet on the refrigerator that says "Life begins at 40" but marked out 40 and filled it with "41, 42, 43- 55" until she couldn't fit any more numbers on it.
My siblings are dorks. They'll try to deny it, but they know that it's true. Doobird's room back home has Superman wallpaper on it and she owns a watch that has *Nsync digital images dance at the click of a button. My brother is a Magic Card fanatic and attends weekend tournaments when he's not busy taking care of his pet snake and gecco.
I'm in love with a Dork.
He probably doesn't consider himself a dork either.... but he is one... a big hunk of adorable dorkiness. He wears a necklace with a sea shell on it. He plays a saxaphone. Back in Australia, he was a member of a heavy metal band and had long hair- he looked like he was a stand-in for Brandon Fraiser on "Airheads."
Well, I am Queen Dork.
I watch "America's Most Wanted" and "World's Worst Police Car Chases" and laugh at the commentary, but at the sametime am intrigued with the blurry images of kids and housewives gone bad- real bad.
I can't dance worth a shit. That chick that you see at concerts that is just jumping up and down at varying tempos- or the one that tries to reinact parts of the song with ridiculous hand gestures- or the one that doesn't know the actual words to the songs, so she either makes up her own words or just lip syncs incorrectly- yeah, that's me.
I'm the one at stop lights that smiles at you when you look to her. Sometimes I wave and say, "Hi there." It's okay that you quickly look away. That happens alot. I just was saying Hi.
Yep, that's me at the check-out line, striking up a conversation with the cashier. "Well, I tell you what... I'm glad that I'm on THIS side of the register, because it looks like you've got your hands full over THERE." I follow it up with a faux chuckle, looking to my other line mates to see if they agree. I know they do, they just don't want to say anything out loud.
I'm the chick who's wearing the straight leg jeans with boots. I know that they have boot-cut pants, but I only have one pair of boots... so yeah. Fuck that. I'm wearing my straight legged pants. And you know what? I'm wearing white socks with those black pants and black boots. Fashionable? I don't know what that word means.
And you know what?
I'm so happy to be a dork. It's really a great life. You don't give a shit about what other people think of you (most of the time). You know that people that think they're "Cool" are really sad on the inside. Being a dork allows you to make a fool out of yourself without any consequences. It sets you free from society's standards and allows you to make paths that others probably won't want to take for fear of it labeling them "uncool."
Of course, there are times where I abandon my dorkiness- mostly in moments when I think that it will offend others. But, I'm slowly coming to realize that, in those moments, I am at my saddest and most lonesome when I forget to embrace who I truly am...
So, my goal for the coming weeks is to love my inner dork and let her do the damn dorkiest things she desires.
I believe that doing so will lead me to true Happiness.
Let the dorkiness begin!
And let it begin with me.