What a weirdo

Being Australia Day and all I think we should celebrate this great country. We are blessed with the freedom of expression and the choice to do a lot of things in life that many other countries don’t permit. Sure you could say we are enslaved by the monetary system and fed propaganda from “free” media but I am just talking in the non conspiracy sense. We can choose religion, way of life, people, jobs, study, blog subject, etc and even if it isn’t perfect it is better than just about any other societal system to date.

But how come in this freedom I still feel like a complete weirdo so often. There are always situations where I am simply too scared or embarrassed to do non harmful activities. Examples:

The other day I was walking home from the station and I saw a busker playing a mean violin and I decided to give him the $2 in my pocket. But I didn’t want to just walk past and only enjoy his playing for 5 seconds so I stopped and watched him. It was interesting to see an instrument that I have never seen played well up close; more so because I have only recently started playing music myself. But I found myself feeling awkward and eventually blushing a little as everybody else walked past.  “What a weirdo!” They all said to me telepathically. They stared at me with snide, scoffing expressions, even though my back was turned and I couldn’t actually see any of them. After about 30 seconds it was too much for my fickle self esteem and I gave the guy the $2 and left saying, “That’s awesome,” with a thumbs up. I walked off thinking of a different life in which I stayed til he finished the song and then we spoke for a few minutes about cool stuff and I left enlightened and free.

Other situations where I have felt a similar cheek flushing sensation have included doing stretches at the station in the morning. In reality everyone should use this valuable spare time to warm up and limber up and loosen up - Everybody should up themselves. But instead we stand hunched and staring vacantly at the ground. I only do vague stretching where it could be debated that I am even doing anything, all out of the ordinary for fear of…for fear of what? Some person I have never before and may never again meet will think I am a weirdo.

Kids dancing around at a party like fucking idiots. Out of time and uncoordinated while I stand with the other adults smiling and rigid. Why don’t we express ourselves more after that fateful period in which we feel the burning glare of a crowd’s silent disapproval? Does it exist? Should it exist? Should it matter? I took a shit the other day in a public toilet and I stopped myself from making too loud a fart sound or too frequent a plopping sound because someone might hear it. They are in a toilet! Who gives a fuck if they hear it?! I take longer and shit with less efficiency because the steady flow is interrupted. I am in cubicle and can’t be seen…I mean why don’t I just let rip?

I’m going to go ahead and shoulder at least 50% of the blame in all these cases, but the other 50 goes to the people who conspire in their silent groups to stare at me and judge my every move, my every air drum or obscure T-shirt. But then again, aren’t I just as guilty? I will stare at a goth for as long I think I can without them looking back. At the bar I work at, once someone gets up and dances it is the first step towards being cut off for drinking too much alcohol.

In the end I guess I just need to stop giving a shit about other people. As long as I am not hurting them then I am sweet, but I should also make sure they aren’t hurting me. It’s my choice. Now off to the tennis.

- Eden

NB This was meantto be posted yesterday but I had technical issues. I will still try and make 7 blogs in seven days.