Good day! Welcome to my (newest) blog! Yes, I do have three others, all centered on specific topics of interest or projects of mine. (Links in the sidebar ->) However, there are days when I feel an urge to write (or rant) on topics which don’t fit neatly into those categories … or any category, for that matter. I’m not a fan of public diaries (I ate this for lunch; I played cards with these people; My second cousin, thrice-removed came to visit. We vegged out to John Hughes movies. . . . Really, people. The minutiae of our lives isn’t fit for public consumption!), but I admire those who manage blogging creatively about their daily lives. They’ve “leveled up” from diarist to storyteller, which is a fine art indeed. One to which I aspire. I cannot promise what you may find here, as I intend this to be a sort of “catch-all” for my thoughts and ideas. What I can tell you is that I fully intend for these pages to be filled with whimsy. Yes, whimsy! I have always been a creative person in one or two areas of my life, but the last couple of years have blossomed forth a creative streak that fills (nearly) every nook and cranny. Somewhere along the line I decided life is the adventure you make it, and now I hardly have time to live all the adventures that pass through my mind, let alone write them down. At times you may see fiction here, or perhaps a poem, maybe a rant or life observation or two, maybe chronicles of some real life adventures, and maybe a record of my more tangible pursuits. It may not exactly follow a specific theme, unless you call imagination the theme, in which case, I believe you would be on target.
Truth be told, I’ve had this concept in development for over a year now, but kick-starting it with an appropriate blog-post has proved a challenge. There are several unfinished ones sitting in my drafts folder, staring at me tauntingly. Either the impetus departed, or reflection upon the topic rendered it unsuitable for launching this blog. Then something happened last weekend that was, to quote Goldilocks, “just right.” I went out with some friends to a local theatrical event (and let me just say, I love theatre people. Everyone is strange and knows it, so they don’t mind your strangeness one bit.), dressed to the nines in a quirky outfit I dubbed “The Saucy Librarian.” It consisted of hair styled into a small bun secured with clear, acrylic hair sticks; oversized, black-frame, “nerd” glasses; long black bead necklaces and a strand of pearls; Victorian styled, black & white striped blouse; off-white ruffled and black-ribboned wristlets worn over fishnet, fingerless gloves and with stretchy, black-bead bracelets and a pyramid-studded wristband; straight, black lace mini skirt; and my infamous black patent, double-buckled, 4-inch stiletto heels. If only I had taken a picture, I could show you. Talk about whimsy, … I was rockin’ the whimsy! So much so that a couple of people asked if I was in one of the short plays being performed that night. “No,” I told the first as she took my refreshments order, “I’m just dressed like this for no reason.” She seemed satisfied with my answer, but I guess I self-consciously mumbled something then about how I must look, for she replied with, “No, I just thought you were eccentric.”
Oooh, eccentric! A magic word, because at some point in my young life I determined that I would one day be“eccentric.” That was exactly what I wanted. Maybe it’s because of the myriad of eccentric characters depicted in literature and movies. People who are peculiar … whose march to the beat of their own drums cause them to be misunderstood by the larger population, but this enigma is what makes them fascinating! Maybe it was due to the influence of a college music professor who wore his hair in a nest-like swirl atop his head, drove a beater car, threw his tie over his shoulder while teaching or conducting, passed out peppermints in class, and liked to knock on restroom doors before opening them a crack to yell non-sequiturs at the unsuspecting occupants (for both Women’s and Men’s). Or perhaps it was the elderly lady who took my freshman history class for fun and irked everyone in the class with her numerous questions, making the class plod along. Not me, though. I was charmed by her, and she liked me, too. Gave me a gift bag full of her old cassettes after finding out I enjoyed listening to classical music. Maybe it was by the example of a spry 90-something I met once, wearing Birkenstock sandals, loaning DVDs to friends from her contemporary movie collection, and blithely conversing about pop culture. I remember thinking right then and there I wanted to be like her someday; Just. Like. Her.
an eccentric in the making
I didn’t think I would get close for another 15 or 20 years. I mean, it seems there’s an invisible, moving boundary determining the age when a person advances from “weirdo” to “eccentric.” Was Ducky eccentric in Pretty In Pink? Yes, but not exactly appreciated as such. Annie Potts’ character, “Iona,” was borderline between the two. Perhaps I’m at that borderline age. Then again, all eccentrics have trouble being appreciated, however old they are. It gets easier with age because at a certain point a person learns how strange everyone is. Some will get it and some won’t. The fact that some people won’t ever “get it” is worth the risk, though. Blending into the background is the surest way of getting yourself forgotten. Not that it’s about being remembered. It’s just about being more fully authentic, even when it doesn’t fit the norm. Personally, I loved Ducky for all his quirks. I wanted Molly Ringwald to appreciate him more. Didn’t you?
So, here I am; An eccentric at last. It has a nice ring to it, I think. My wish is granted, and now I hope to entertain or, at least, amuse you with my attempts at living imaginatively. Remember this, young friends: In order for ordinary life to be boring, one must willfully ignore many fascinating things. The world can’t reveal mysteries where one refuses to look.
Eccentrically Yours,
TraiceTrak
P.S. The Annie Potts Pretty In Pink character, Iona, is totally a style icon for me. I wanted to be just like her, too. I really did. Maybe I’m on my way.
The Airstepper's Adventure 