Where Does Weird Come From?

I was trying to pinpoint when I knew I was "weird" according to social norms, or when I first became "weird". Surely a baby is not "weird"? Hmm . . .

Well, I know I challenged a lot of kids with all kinds of issues, though most of the time it was religion. I remember telling other eight year olds there was no god and having extensive repetitive debates consisting mainly of childish points such as,
"If there is a god, where is he?"
"In the sky."
"Why haven't astronauts seen him?"
"He's everywhere!"
"That doesn't make sense. Why can't I see him?"
And so on. We all know the futility of this debate on both sides. It was around this time that I remember first being somewhat of an outcast. (Strangely enough, not for these religious debates.)

At about eight I was playing with friends outside and was wearing a thin knitted short sleeved top my mother had made me. My friends brought out a sprinkler and so I took this knitted top off to run through. One of my friends was no longer allowed to associate with me after that vulgar display.

What else? My favourite books as a child were about witches and cats, my favourite toy as a toddler was a stuffed witch I named "Selfish", my teachers in very early grade school had to call home because I said I wanted to be a hooker when I grew up and I was teaching the other kids the facts of life, my grade seven enrichment teacher told me I was morbid . . . hmm, nope, can't think when this all started.

One thing I can say for sure: I loved being different when I was little, then I went through an awkward year or two wanting to fit in and not understanding why I didn't and now again I love it. Not that I try to be different, I just enjoy being who I am. :)

Why Spelling is Important #1

This story involves me, my seventh grade teacher, a boy we'll call "Mac" and a girl we'll call "Molly". Now, when I was in seventh grade I was pretty unpopular. I wore bright coloured jogging suits because my parents insisted I grew too fast to wear jeans and well, I've always been weird.

One day when I was in seventh grade I was slow in packing up my stuff at the end of the day and was visibly upset. My teacher approached me and asked what was wrong and I showed him a note. The note was supposed to be from Mac, the boy in the class all the kids made fun of and asked me to meet him somewhere for some kind of date, I suppose. My teacher asked how I knew it wasn't from him.

"Well," I said, "The letter 'a's are written the same way Molly writes them and in this sentence 'Be there or be squar' she misspelled 'square' the same way she did on the quizzes we exchanged and marked last week." My teacher smiled and wrote a note of his own.

"Dear Molly,

Nice note. Learn to spell 'square'."