What does it mean to be different?
The dictionary description of the word "different" is:
During my early days of juvenility and self-experimenting, I had always thought of "different" as a noun. And to this day, I still do.
My Mum always told me that "It's okay to be different". So, I grew up wanting to be "Different" -- whoever that might be.
At age 3, I spent a lot of my time with an imaginary friend whom I named "Mookiepie". At that time, Mookiepie was my "Different"; he dyed his hair everyday and only ever wore black. To me, Mookiepie was fluorescent and garish. He gave not even a twitch to the vapidity of society. He was his own character - probably the character I aspired towards, while also being the character I'd ought to have no confidence in being.
At age 5, my imaginary friend escaped my imagination and embarked on a bigger and better life - I lost my idea of Different. But, that didn't worry me.
I began to look for Different in my Mum's make-up drawers, Gwen Stefani's music videos, the sheets in my Grandma's cabinet, the keys of my piano and Lady Gaga's 09' lightning bolt -- she/he had to be somewhere.
I was surrounded by images of Harajuku girls, japanese Geisha, Pippi Longstocking and Boy George and his "Karma Chameleon" (or, Tamielian , hehe). Home-time always consisted of radical outfit concoctions, DIY-lost-and-found-object Barbie costumes and random runways showcasing the gloriously ridiculous garments I was sporting. This was not a sporadic event and my cousin and I often made our whole extended family watch our "show" in the living room. My daily routine was a pursuit for "Different".
School wasn't miserable. I wasn't an outsider. But, I didn't fit in either. I wasn't bullied. But, I was still judged. I liked being alone (still do) and I liked observing the people around me (still do x2). No one knew about my avant-garde experiments at home, and I was perfectly fine with that. At school, I was what you'd probably consider "normal" and at home, I was my idea of "Different". I didn't exactly build a facade for myself at school, but I definitely wasn't the Mookiepie type of girl I wanted to be. I guess my eccentric and bizzare way of thinking was what separated me from the other kids at school, rather than my appearance. And to an extent, I was okay with that. If school uniform wasn't an issue, I probably would have (willingly) been the only 8 year old in Auckland with LSP purple hair, knee-high black and white stripped socks and black, 10-eyelet Dr. Martens.
I'm much older now and not much has changed. I'm still on a pursuit for "Different".
Now that I'm old enough, I've seen her in more than just people. I've seen her in literature, art, nature, music, photography - every creative muse. I've seen her on the bus, in the city, at the library, in a big white empty room. I've seen her get dressed, spill her paint, trip on air, obsess over a stupid boy, procrastinate, over-think, get nervous and hide. I've looked for her and have seen glimpses of her presence.
And after thinking I had looked for her everywhere, I finally get it now -- as cliché as it may sound, I guess I forgot to look for her in myself.
I guess I am "Different".
Tamiel
