Saturday, September 1, 2012

The Challenge of Me

I am a....floater.  I don't bond with large groups for my identity and become assimilated into the collective.  Quite honestly I don't nor have I ever quite fit in.  This has never bothered me.  However what has always confused me is why this flexibility always seems to agitate the fuck out of others.  It's often their excuse to doubt my knowledge or interest, disregard my recommendations or comments, or even shun me entirely.
The city dwellers think I'm too country with my love of four-wheel drive, four wheelers, playing in the woods and love of Nascar, but country folks don't understand my love of fine wines, funky cheeses, high heels, or art and let's not even mention my eclectic musical taste.

The liberals don't like my stance on gun rights, yet the conservatives hate when I tell them they have no right to control my body and that I think their "boys" are greedy pigs.

The fashionistas despise my camo and work boots.  Though the tom boys don't understand my short skirts, how I walk in those heels or how much I prefer to spend on my hair.

The techie geeks don't respect that I can handle most power tools and understand how an engine works, but the typical grease monkey stares at me in wonder when I rapidly click-click-click and solve their software issue and shove me into the dork category.

Materialists and those with money don't understand how I'm more content with less.  Yet those with nothing don't understand my need to do something with myself.

White people can't comprehend my acceptance of other cultures.  Minorities see me as a white girl who can't possibly understand.

Those on the "right side of the tracks" can't fathom my serenity with simple and realistic.  When living in the hood/war zone, most looked at me with puzzlement and distrust because I'm not getting high, drinking 40s, or have a parade of bed filling my bed.

The vanilla are scared as hell of my sexuality..."I don't want to know."  But the kink world is practically intolerant and incredulous that I'm able to keep my legs closed physically and my emotions uncompromised to be monogamous.  ~gasp~ I'm not a silly, frivolous attention whore.  ~eye roll~

Women don't understand me because I don't need just any man and can simply be alone.  They put their noses in the air because I don't gossip, play dumb girl games or concern myself with the fine details of useless woman shit.

Men run from my intelligence and straight forward attitude.  They'd love to have me as a fuck every chance they get, yet I've rarely been someone they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with.  My strength has somehow always made me a better mistress than someone they bring home to family.

The sci-fi and fantasy dorks would admire my book collection but be wounded that I don't crave going back to mediaeval times.  Then the feminists are appalled at my raw submission to my Man.

The jocks and preps don't have any capacity to deal with me nor I with them as I have better things to do than drink and watch ESPN.  The artsy and music folks don't understand how I can admire their work and not jump at the chance to get high.

The soccer mom's are horrified at my real-world, parenting approach and my lack of catering to nonsense.  The trainwreck moms don't understand my integrity or love.
I am a misfit, and I don't care.  I long ago as a child accepted that I was not like the rest.  I can function well in a variety of situations, but I'm not much of a die hard anything.  Why?  Because one "thing" never satisfies ALL of me completely.  I've never felt the need to change who and what I am so that I could fit in and be accepted by the big groups of sheep.   That's not where or how I find peace.  I find my peace in being true to me, being authentic, being all that I can around those that do love all that I am.

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