Every once in awhile I’ll post on Facebook “I’m a weirdo” and it gets about 5 likes in comparison to the 150 likes I get for a check-in at the movie theater with my husband. A few weeks ago, someone sent me a message and asked me why I always identify myself as a weirdo. “You are successful, handsome and you really have your shit together. Why in the world would you want everyone to think you’re a weirdo and what does that even mean?” I thought it was an interesting question so I looked up the definition of weirdo and found this: a person whose dress or behavior seems strange or eccentric. Hmmm…I don’t know. I guess it all started with Janis Joplin.
Several weeks ago, one of my friends on Facebook suggested I write a post about my high school crush. The timing was interesting because at the same time the suggestion was made I was just finishing up the final touches of my first book, The Before Now and After Then, before it went to print. The reason the coincidence was so strange was because the entire idea for my first novel came solely from five minutes I spent with my high school crush, almost exactly twenty-five years ago.
Today on Facebook, I asked for suggestions about topics I should write about on my blog. Somebody suggested I write about a crush I had in high school, which will be my next post. Tonight, I went down in our basement and started rummaging through all of my plastic containers holding remnants of my past, in search of my pictures from high school. I had thought that during a drunken rage years ago, I had set fire to all of my journals, notes and high school memories…but I had not. What I found truly amazed me.