It came as an epiphany on Tuesday. Neha and Priya were giving me a ride, and I got a look into what real teenagers do.
Importantly, real teenagers listen to the radio. I don’t get it. A ridiculous amount of stuff on the radio is ads. Not to mention, I don’t like most songs played on the radio. If you really must listen to music (I prefer podcasts or NPR), then why not burn yourself some CDs or listen to your mp3 player? I burned a CD of some classical music for when I’m driving.
I started to realize I’m kind of weird. I expressed this sentiment to Julie, my bff. And instead of, I don’t know, saying something constructive, she just gave me a look and told me I wasn’t weird.
But then, lovely Holly swooped in and saved the day. She asked me, “What’s wrong with being weird!” And goddammit, she had a point. I’m weird (perhaps just a little), but I am proud of it.
Because really, what is being weird? It’s being different from everyone else. Why would that matter? Why do other people matter? To quote Richard Feynman’s book title, what do you care what other people think?