Type Setting Too

I think one of the things I like most about myself is the fact that I'm hard to pigeon-hole. I'm fairly versatile. And this might sound familiar because I know I've mentioned it before: I'm the kind of person who knows a little about a lot of different things, and not only can I talk to you about them, I also find joy in partaking in a whole variety of those activities. I can't be just the Dance Girl or the Outdoors Girl or even the Theatre or Food or Travel Girl. And I definitely can't just be the Shopping Girl. If you replace those "or"s with "and"s then maybe we're starting to get on the right track. There's a part of me that's Crunchy Grow-Your-Own-Granola Hippie, but there's also a part of me that's a Consumer Whore. And I embrace both.

See, there's the music purists who will listen to nothing except bands that nobody else knows about (and the second the band becomes anything more than entirely obscure, they're immediately not cool anymore). There's the foodies who sneer at fast food. There's those ...jerks who look down their noses at people who shop. I find that kind of thinking so utterly debilitating. Opinionated to a fault. I'm all for indie music and fancy, organic eating and conserving and getting used stuff (I call it well-loved), but I don't see the harm in thinking that Britney's songs are really catchy and good to dance or run to, in finding greasy McDonald's food delicious, in buying myself a new purse because I've been using the same seven-dollar one for seven years. I don't see the problem with being diverse in and of myself. Nor do I see anything wrong with changing your mind or growing to learn about and accept new things.

So maybe the anarchist rebel became a settled-down corporate suit. Maybe he's a sell-out, or maybe he saw that the IT industry and suburbs weren't so bad afterall. Is a born-again Christian someone who (re)discovered faith? Or a sell-out too? I've got no real ideas, but I also don't have any judgements. Neither anarchy and suburban offices are for me right now, but maybe one day they will be (but probably not at the same time). One day I may own a cell phone and get myself on Facebook. Heck, I just got my full license today and that's something I (and most of my friends) never thought I'd do. So, who knows? Change is the only constant, right? Maybe the unshaven yeti wants to clean up and look nice every now and then.

On that note, I never thought I'd be "the type" to like, nevermind be into, So You Think You Can Dance, but hey, a good thing is a good thing and my goodness, these dancers are good things.

I feel this:



I want this:



I like the fact that I'm watching TV every now and then, because I never really used to. I like the fact that I think Mark looks amazingly sexy in that suit and that Chelsie is beautiful with that floofy dress and her hair like that. I think about the choreography and the costumes. I like the fact that I can appreciate the dances as forms of entertainment but also as art forms. I see the physical skill and the intangible beauty. I love the fact that the dances evoke emotion from me, that I can see and feel the symbolism and oh- I think that just pushed a pin right into that spot in my heart and oh- yes, yes, yes, I know exactly what that feels like (and it's expressed exactly right). I love that the song Beautiful is from the movie Lost and Delirious, which no one remembers, but which I have a soft spot for. I get goosebumps.

I do this with everything I choose to have as a part of myself: I see neat facts, the shallow and superficial, I go deeper, I relate it to other things that are meaningful to me. It makes me feel things. I appreciate and embrace. Yes, I mean this with shopping too. I'm cool with my choices, the good ones and the bad ones (I have to be especially cool with the bad ones), even if it means something as flimsy as spending the day at the Eaton Centre. I own myself, all of my choices. Regretting something is the opposite; its wishing a choice you made isn't a part of you anymore, like disowning yourself. So the rebel will own a suit, the hippy will buy things, the yeti will embrace the clean-cut hunk that he is. And no one will say anything mean about it.

I once thought I wanted to be a girl with A Thing - you know, like a talent, a Master of something. Turns out I might just be a Jack of All Trades. A Renaissance Woman. I'm liking the life I'm starting to carve out for myself, and all the million and one good and bad things that go with it. I guess I'm not really a 'type' after all, but a million and one little types.

I'll take a million and one pigeon-holes, please.
3:22 am