The Weirdo Proposition

Why are people afraid to enjoy things? Why are people so afraid to be passionate about things? I don’t get it. Okay, I kind of do get it. I understand that sometimes people don’t have the self-confidence to be positive and vocal about the things that they enjoy and are happy about. They worry people are going to think they are “sad”, or that they are “losers”, or that these people are going to look down on them because they are interested in more than just Love Island and wine (which are completely legitimate interests by the way).

Well people, I am going to tell you that worrying about liking something and being passionate about it because people might think it is stupid, sad or boring, is completely counter intuitive. It’s completely and utterly counter intuitive. If you are defensive when someone tries to talk to you about something you enjoy, YOU have already decided that you are the loser. Not them, not anyone else, no one but you. You have already made the decision for them – that they are going to find whatever you are talking about boring, or think you are a “weirdo” for liking it. They weren’t thinking you were a weirdo before, but now they are thinking you are a weirdo for shutting down a conversation about something that you like. Have some self-respect here, stop putting yourself down on this one.

If anyone actually says you are a loser for liking something, or tells you that you are weird for liking something, then are they really worth talking to about anything? I doubt it. If they can’t be bothered to have a conversation about the fact that you like trains, or photography, or makeup or whatever, then they aren’t even worth having a conversation with about anything. I think often people are jealous that someone has a passion. They don’t have anything in their lives they are excited about, and you do, and they don’t like that. So, they shut you down by calling you a “loser”, a “weirdo” or sad.

I’ve got to the point where being called a “loser” is almost a compliment to me. It means I am interested in something and you aren’t. It means I have a passion and you don’t. I enjoy my life and all the things in it, and you don’t. You’re jealous. If I had £1 for each time someone had called me one of these words, I would be a millionaire by now. I get called a loser/sad/weirdo on a daily basis. But you know what, that’s actually okay; I’m cool with it. I’m reading a Japanese crime novel which has been translated into English, why’s that so weird? My pen has a unicorn on the top of it, why’s that so odd? My hairband matches my shoes, and apparently that’s weird. These things aren’t weird, but so what if they are?! Yeah Bonnie’s weird – cool story bro… come up with something new already.

 

The definition of weirdo: a person whose dress or behaviour seems strange or eccentric.

Is liking to read strange or eccentric? Don’t think so. Is enjoying black and white films particularly out of the ordinary? Nope.

Let’s take a look at some synonyms for “weirdo”: individualist, nonconformist, free spirit.

In my book, these are all positive words. So, I’m weird and that makes me an individual and that means I am different to you. Well, good! Because I don’t want to be like you if you are horrible to people for being interested in things.

 

I don’t get why we shame people for liking things. Fortunately, I’m not worried enough about people liking what I like, and I don’t mind if people call me a loser. But not everyone is like that. Some people will take it to heart if you say their hobby is “sad”, and they will be afraid to ever mention it to someone again. If you are one of those people who shames people for being into stuff, then stop it. Stop it right now, because it’s the most ridiculous thing, and you saying that is way more telling than someone getting excited about something they are interested in. Like “OMG you are so cool, I love that you just made someone feel really bad about themselves”. Legit get over yourselves. These people are mean, and they don’t have real friends, they are literally just people who hang around with a bunch of people who are scared of them

And, if you are one of those people who stresses when someone says you are “sad”, a “loser” or a “weirdo”, you know what? Chuck it in the fuck it bucket and move on. Tell someone who cares; because lots of people care.

My standard response to someone telling me I am any of these things, is to go “yeah I know”. They never know what to say to that. They aren’t expecting that, they are expecting you to get defensive about it or to go quiet. So, do neither. I propose a new way of thinking, where the people who don’t like anything apart from making you feel bad, are the weirdos.

 

Anyway, rant over, for now at least. Cheesy grins people.

Bonnie

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Wronged at the water cooler

I was HANGING at work the other day, not going to lie. I’d been out with some of the work lot the night before and drunk A LOT. Like, really a lot. I didn’t get into work until 9 that morning, and considering I am supposed to start at 7.30, turns out I was a little late. But no matter, we will press on with the day. I was fine, sitting at my desk quite happily, until we got to about 11. This is when everything started to go a bit downhill. I started getting a bit of a shake on and my eyes weren’t focusing on the emails I was pretending I was reading. I needed a break, a few minutes away from my desk – that will sort me right out. Did it fuck.

I went to the kitchen area to get some water from the water cooler, and low and behold there was precisely no water left. I could see there was no water left, but I had to press the button down just in case there happened to be a secret store of water that would mean I didn’t have to change the bottle. But I had no such luck. Not even a drip was relinquished by the water cooler. Urgh.

You aren’t supposed to change the bottle on the water cooler yourself, because it’s heavy and whatever, and you are supposed to call one of the maintenance guys to come and do that. But nobody got time for dat. When you are experiencing the unquenchable thirst, the pain of having to wait for a heavily tattooed Polish man to come and assist you is a no go. Water simply must be had.

So, I did it myself. Normally I’m fine and I switch it over no problem, but today was a different story. I took the empty bottle off the top with minimal trouble, and after a bit of wrestling, I managed to peel the sticker off the bottom of the new water bottle. Here’s where it started going a bit awry. I grabbed hold of the handle of the water bottle and gave it a bit of a lift (testing the water if you will). It was no heavier than usual, so I engaged in the lift and hefted the new bottle off the rack and in the direction of the cooler. It was at this point, that I lost it. All of a sudden, my arms failed me and I seemed incapable of lifting the bottle any higher than my waist. Crap. I really had to engage the core to heft that water bottle into the right position. Clearly, I need to work on my clean and jerk, because this was not happening, and I had visions of me dropping the bottle with an almighty bang and me having to chase a rolling bottle down the corridor.

 

Anyway, somehow I managed to get the bottle into the cooler, and I stood waiting for the water to filter through the system. This can take a bit of time, so I assumed a leaning stance against the counter top, much like a cowboy leans against the bar in a Western, but probably much less cooly. Elaine the cleaner sauntered around the corner and I geared up for our daily chat which consists of one of the following three options.

Option number 1: Elaine proclaiming “Aint it hot in here?!”, when it really isn’t, but obviously I just agree because I am polite and British. I strongly suspect this has something to do with her being “that age” rather than it actually being warm in the office, but we won’t mention that.

Option number 2: Elaine asking if “I’ve much planned for the weekend”. This one usually first rears its ugly head on a Tuesday, when I obviously have nothing planned, and surfaces on a pretty much daily basis until I come up with an answer which satisfies her. I’m not sure I ever satisfy Elaine with my weekend plans, as they usually consist of “nothing much really”.

Option 3: she says something which I have no idea how to respond to. Well, I do know how I would like to respond to it, but I often can’t say what I want to out loud.

Option three is what we came up against on this day. I was standing near the water cooler, having just replenished it with a fresh bottle. Elaine saw me do this, as she reminded me I shouldn’t do this and I should get one of the maintenance blokes to do it. I glossed over this comment, as Elaine and I have discussed this many a time before, and she is well aware of my feelings with regard to waiting for people to do things for me.

As I stood there with my bottle in hand, waiting for the water to filter through so I could fill my bottle with the cool refreshing liquid I had just hailed up there, Elaine did a thing. She did a thing that would change my feelings towards this woman forever. She took a plastic cup from the dispenser. This may seem like a small thing, but the act of removing that plastic cup from the dispenser carries big meaning. But, not only did she take one plastic cups… She took two.

I stood there with a look of fire in my eyes. I knew where this was going. I could tell what was about to happen without her even opening her mouth to utter those words. I was steeling myself for the question; I was staying as calm as possible so as not to flip my lid. Just as I had thought the moment was going to pass, the words came. The dreaded words, “do you mind if I go first?”. The torrent of abusive phrases that swam through my head at that point don’t even bear thinking about. Somehow, I managed to keep my mouth shut, how I did that I will never know.

Through gritted teeth and the most clenched jaw you have ever seen in your life, I uttered the words “sure, not a problem!”. Not a problem? Of course it’s a bloody problem Elaine. Who on Gods earth do you think you are woman? You have quite literally stood there and watched me struggle to begin the process of quenching my thirst. You have unhelpfully reminded me that I shouldn’t be taking action to quench my thirst – which is precisely no help to a thirsty person, and now, NOW, you are going to actually ask me if you can have first go at the water?

You know what Elaine? You know what? Have it. Have all the water. Just go straight ahead. Don’t mind me or anything, you just take what you came for and leave. Don’t worry about the fact that I have gone to a serious amount of effort to get us to this point. Don’t you even bat an eyelid. There are words for people like you in this life. I didn’t want to say it Elaine, and I didn’t want it to come to this. I am ashamed to say that as she pottered back to wherever she came from (hell most likely), that under my breath I uttered the words “liquid larcener” at her back.

Water cooler