I don't care what you think as long as it's about me

I've lamented this before and I'll likely do it again, but here goes. I'm sick of people who think that being purposely odd makes them somehow more interesting. That if they dress in costume every day and see their lives as art, they can be idiots and everyone will excuse them because they are "artists." I used to think that such folk were worthy of envy, that I could or should in some way dislike my own oatmeal-ness - my middle class, normal upbringing; that I should be ashamed of my Harry Potter obsession and simultaneous revulsion of literary theory. That if I cannot squeeze juxtaposition, a French film reference and at least one nod toward Nietzsche into a sentence in a grad seminar that I am less than cool.

But I'm here to tell you that I no longer give a flying fuck about such matters, and this is truly liberating. Love me or hate me; think I'm a bitch or a saint. I simply cannot care because something happens around 35 in which you realize that (1) life is speeding by quickly, and (2) that you are who you are and I feel a sense of great relief that I'm no longer making an effort at performing something else. I say stupid things, I don't always get stuff, and oftentimes my clothes are wrinkled $3 clearance rack items from Target, and yes, I will carry my real Prada bag with such outfits because I feel like it. My public persona is ever-changing, often caustic, and I don't care about this either. Hiding my disdain for people and things I don't like is simply too much work these days, and I'm starting to understand the in-your-face, no sugar people I used to shy away from for fear of incurring their wrath.

Yes. I watch television. A lot. And it's un-intellectual shite like Judge Judy and Bridezillas. I do read bestsellers and no, I haven't heard of that small press, whateveritis.