Obscure Thrumming

Weird. Unique. Firecracker. Pistol. "Undomesticated". Intimidating. A few of the descriptors that I have acclimatized to over the years.

Never Normal. Obviously Odd. Quaintly Quirky. These are my modes.

The product of two immensely gifted parents occupying the most distal ends of the spectrum, I am a lethal (whether to myself or others remains undetermined) genetic spawn. Creatively retentive and analytically artistic, I have bucked the system, taken the jibes and funny-walked to the precussionists in my head.

"Why?" you ask, do I announce the obvious. Amazingly enough, I forget that not everyone is like me. Not everyone wants to stand out, to be noticed, to be the locus... and I ask, "Why?" Vanilla/Chocolate is the answer. (I like neither.) Last eve found me bitten in the proverbial buttocks by my natural bent for the bizarre and different. I was hurt. I was angry. I shot the messenger...and then I apologized for the shooting.

I only desire to be "normal", "average" in those frustrating moments when statistical outlying seems to be a handicap. And then I come to my senses, know that my idiosyncracies are what make me alluring, exotic and fetching. I like those words and I like being those words... wouldn't you??