Randomness On A Stick

I was in eighth grade.

I honestly don’t know what the context was that I first heard it.

That perfect word.

It was my teacher who said it, and I don’t know who asked her what it meant.  She started to explain it and it was like the world made more sense to me.

I had found a word that described the way I felt about my life, my friends, myself.

Random.

Finally! One word that encompassed all my quirkiness, every strange interest or bizarre passion.  It explained why I despised the color pink but I was obsessed with butterflies. It explained why I loved the TV show Popular and also Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It explained why Barbie absolutely bored me but I could spend hours braiding the hair of my American Girl doll, Samantha.

I was random.

It also gave me a new and often phrase to say.  My friends and I called each other random on a regular basis after that. The phrase, “That’s so random!” was uttered countless times in any given conversation.  I loved it, it was perfect and I still find the occasion to use it nearly constantly.

Because, 10 years later, I am as random as ever.

I’m obsessed with Glee and I love the Saw movies.  My iPod could shuffle from Sara Bareilles to Eminem to the musical Aida.  On any given night I could be sitting at home watching movies in bed, out drinking with friends or going to a museum.  Some days my socks won’t even match each other and some days they match my underwear and my outfit.

I’m random.

I’m just happy I have this word to help me explain.

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~ by Valerie Anne on 06/23/2011.

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