Declaration of Independence

Song of the day, “Declaration of Independence” – The Count Five

In my upcoming novel, Scary Modsters …and Creepy Freaks, Rosalyn’s passions are much like my own. This got me thinking about what she and I come down to.

I’ve always been teased about my petite stature. This really bothered me until I came to a huge realization: Something inside of those doing the teasing made them so insecure that they felt the need to pick on someone who had the power make their insecurities smaller. My height was an easy target, meaning; the jerks that teased me slacked off instead of actually putting thought into their efforts. How sad that they were not only insecure but also lazy.

There was another thing that made me a lackadaisical kid’s target: My tastes were vastly different from those of my peers. I love the music that was popular around the time I was born, and my peers couldn’t respect it because their parents also listened to it, thus making it uncool.

News flash: Your parents may actually be cool. Don’t deny it. You want them to be.

Then something amazing happened. (Actually, it wasn’t amazing at all. The phenomenon of pop culture taking a twenty-year back step occurs about once a decade.) In the 70’s and early 80’s, rockabilly went through resurgence. Suddenly the music and fashions of the late 1950’s were trendy. (Department stores sold poodle skirts!) In the mid 80’s, about twenty years after their chart-topping era, many bands of the 1960’s enjoyed resurrection. It seemed that on every popular music show, from Solid Gold to Soul Train, crowds went wild over artists that had been hitless for decades. Fast-forward to the 90’s and you could not go into a department store without questioning if you had done “The Time Warp” and landed in 1975.

It struck me as hysterical when many of my high school peers failed to realize that what they were listening to was the very thing for which they had just snubbed me months before. Suddenly they thought the music of their parent’s generation was cool. (That is, as long as it was from a band that was on TV or getting airplay. Heaven forbid it was a band the media wasn’t mentioning. That was still uncool. Translation: My peers were minions to the media.)

My declaration to those who tease others for their passions:

I am not a freak; I simply I love something that other’s find difficult to appreciate. I am flooded with passion and without shame. I have the courage to be different. That little bit of inner strength that others don’t possess is something makes me strong. Because of that little difference inside me, I take pride in myself.

When was the last time you took pride in your true self? Not your car, not your job, not your house, but your true inner being? I do that each and every day, regardless of what others think, and it makes me far, far stronger than bullies could ever understand how to aspire to be.

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3 Comments

  1. Came from a blog you guest posted at. You made the comment that people called you a “lazy writer.” I’m interested in hearing more about what that means, how you handled it, and more about how you came to the conclusion you did. Mostly I’m interested in hearing about what that means. I’ve heard a lot criticism, and I can speculate on what they’re talking about, but am not positive. If you have the time, I’d like to hear the story!

    • Hello! Thanks for dropping by. Here is a quick example of what I was referring to.

      The lazy version: “Out of boredom, I played with my French fries. The tench left in the catchup help my attention.” Here I have made simple statements. While they tell the basics, they really don’t convey the character’s state of mind, just that he is bored.

      The revised version: “Slowly my fingers drug a fry through the catchup. The languid oozing of the resulting trench reflected my failed enthusiasm.” So now I have shown you that I am bored by using the catsup as an example.

      Does this make sense?

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