A look-alike, talk-alike clone who didn't say much of anything or wear crazy/fashion-oriented outfits. A mouse who huddled behind her brand name clothes and peeped out from time to time to talk about normalnormalnormal things in a quietquiet voice.
This mini-epiphany came about while listening to the song "That's Not My Name" by the Ting Tings (a crazy, 80's-sounding band with utterly random and crunchy songs). Look at these lyrics:
I never say anything at all / So with nothing to consider / They forget my name.I was stuck in a ditch of my own making. I had four, perhaps five people I talked to on a regular basis at school. I kept my head down, my back hunched, my book bag plain. I sat with the same people every single day and ate my every-day-the-same sandwich in silence. My makeup made me look tired and wan, and I straightened my curly-Q hair just to blend in. (I kid you not, there are two other girls with curly/kinky hair in my grade, and they mostly straighten it.)
In other words, I was a vanilla-pudding of a person: good enough if you're starved for a snack but utterly boring.
Somehow, over the summer, I must have unconsciously decided to do away with the mouse-persona. Because this year?
This year my hair is extremely curly — I mean extremely. My eyeliner-and-shadow adventures are much more epic, but actually compliment my features. I'm wearing clothes off of runways and going crazy with my style. I'm sitting with new people now, and skip around tables at lunch — eating with Genny and co. one day, with Emily and co. the next, and Erin and co. another. I'm making new friends and I'm making them fast.
People respect me now — I am my own person.
And you know what?
The crazy clothes and epic makeup and curly hair and random speeches all get me compliments. Why? Because I think that people in general admire and respect people who are different. Not epically different (as in Mars-type different) or different in a hide-behind-my-books-and-glare-at-any-human-who-dares-disturb-me way (though at home, that's mostly what I do). But just different enough to dare call attention to oneself.
Being different is what makes people popular, not being the same as everyone else. Think about it: the most admired people in your school probably aren't cookie-cutter clones. (Maybe my school's the exception to the rule, but I'm pretty sure your quote-unquote "popular crowd" have something special about them.)
For a long time, I couldn't understand this. Now I do, and I'm practically a celebrity. (The Taylor Swift video may have helped this along, but still...)
It's an art. They ought to offer classes on being different.