Memoirs of an Insane Freshman Girl

Chapter 4: Randomness and Insanity

Chapter 4: Randomness and Insanity

Okay, so I wasn't what you would call a normal, typical teenager. I was so far from it that people questioned my sanity, with good reason of course. After nine years of catholic grade school and uniforms, I was definitely ready for a change. It was my mission to be a fashion innovator for our freshmen class. I didn't want to fit in; so, I created my own look. Yes, you can be sure that no one at McCluer North dressed the way I did. I innovated the style of wearing shirts over dresses with black Eskimo boots in October. Of course, no one really followed my fashion trends, but I never looked like anyone else. I currently own thirty-five dresses, which I wore at least two days a week for school. Also, I was the queen of wearing pajamas to school. My biggest pet peeve was wearing jeans. Everyone wore jeans, which is why I refused to wear them-although I did wear them sometimes, when they were forced upon me. (No, I'm totally kidding. No one forced me to wear jeans.)

Most people knew of me as that girl who always wore dresses and high heels. That was perfectly fine with me. It seemed that everyone did know me. Finally, for once in my life, I was noticed and for something I actually wanted to be noticed for: my fashion. Of course, some of it was crazy, but I loved picking out my cute outfits every night to wear the next day. The only time my fashion genius slowed a little was at the end of freshmen year when I no longer awakened at 5:15 in the morning to get ready for school and instead got up an hour later, not caring as much about my appearance as I already had my boyfriend tucked away in my pocket-Chris didn't care what I looked like because he had already fallen for me and my randomness and insanity.

If you ever have one conversation with me, you will completely understand my randomness. You could be talking to me about math and then all of the sudden, I'll start talking about flowers. I am also the queen of saying things of all obviousness. If it's raining outside, you'll be sure that I'll text you and say it's raining. If you think something someone says is weird, I'm sure I've said things weirder. People have called me crazy, but I'm perfectly okay with that because I like being crazy. I'm one of those people who will try something even if they are likely to fall flat on their faces and look stupid.

Okay, so I'm a huge klutz. I have accomplished some of the stupidest things you could ever think of without even trying. If there is something on the ground, you bet I will be the one to trip over it. If there is something in the way, you bet I will the one to run into it. If there is a chair where I happen to be sitting cross-legged, you bet I will be the one to lean back and fall backwards flat on my back. I also possess a very limited amount of common sense. For being a straight A brilliant student, I don't have very much common sense. You may laugh at me-and I give you my full permission to do so-but I didn't know that acorns grew into trees. My parents laughed at me and made fun of me for not knowing that, but it's true that I didn't know that. The other day, I was also thinking about how you could have two different breads for the same footlong sandwich at Subway. I have said and thought a million stupid things that would definitely disprove my intelligence, but I excel in school nonetheless.

I have a tendency to fall of the bed while talking on the phone to guys. I know that sounds really strange, but it's true. Once when I was talking on the phone to a guy, I fell behind my bed and was squished in the corner. I suppose guys bring out the even more klutzy side of me than is already obviously seen. Just to give you an example of something else stupid I did was when I was at Target, and I turned around and ran straight into this column thing in front of the dressing rooms. Yes, I give you my permission to laugh at me again. I'm sure you already are, but I was just letting you know that it's okay, and you don't have to feel guilty. My friends always laugh at me for when I wrote S.S. test-social studies test-on my hand; so, I wouldn't forget that we had a test the next day, and then I came to school with S.S. test imprinted on my face. I also wore my shirt inside out the entire day of school with no one even telling me it was inside out until the end of the day.

You see, while I've done a million stupid things and said even more stupid things, I don't get embarrassed. If I trip and fall flat on my face, sure, people will laugh at me, but I'll laugh with them because I'm just a klutz, and I don't care if people laugh at me for it. I don't get embarrassed about anything because my thoughts are "Who really cares?" Why do people make such of a big deal out of embarrassing situations? So you were singing and you completely sucked and everyone laughed at you? So? Even more than that, I hate how people say they suck at something when they're actually really good at it. Oh, no, I can't sing. I'm just in choir and really good, but I can't sing. Oh, no, I'm a terrible artist. I just love art class and draw whenever I can. If you ask me, it's all a bunch of crap.

What is insanity anyway? Well, according to my trusty dictionary.com-a.k.a. my love and my life when assigned vocabulary packets-insanity is
-a noun
1) the condition of being insane; a derangement of the mind
2) such unsoundness of mind as affects legal responsibility or capacity
3) psychosis
4) extreme folly; senselessness; foolhardiness

Now you must be asking what INSANE means. If not, I will bless you with the definition anyway.
Insane
-adjective
1) not sane; not sound of mind; mentally deranged
2) of, pertaining to, or characteristic of a person who is mentally deranged
3) utterly senseless

Of course, that sounds the like most perfect definition you have ever heard, am I right? Well, considering the title of my masterpiece, Memoirs of an Insane Freshman Girl, you may be wondering my logic in my summarization skills. What was this girl thinking to deem herself insane and mentally deranged? Yes, you may be thinking that I am incredibly crazy and in desperate need of professional help, which isn't such a far stretch from the truth when you think about all the crazy and insane situations and ideas I have gone through and though of throughout my interesting freshman year. When I say interesting, it is because I can't possibly say I was entirely ecstatic the entire time, but I wasn't the depressed type. I was more a healthy mix of in-between emotions, having both my really happy days-mud volleyball and his bare chest, trust you me, I'll never forget-and also my not-so-happy days, which is a far stretch to call them that but let's pretend I'm the optimistic type who sees the glass half full and not tipped over and spilling on the floor like I usually do-like that day watching A Raisin in the Sun scribbling in my black notebook, tears running down my face.

No, I couldn't call myself normal; in fact, I was so far from normal that my idea of normal was so far askewed that I couldn't recognize normal if it hit me in the face. That's something I liked about myself. I wasn't normal. I hated normal people. In my eyes, normal people were boring, ordinary, and completely useless. Okay, so maybe I was a little harsh. Normal people could be interesting when they wanted to, I suppose, but they just weren't the type of people I was attracted to or liked to spend my time with because they were too far affected by the social ladder. When I say that "normal" people were too far affected by the social ladder, I mean that they actually care what people think of them and how their "social status" is.

Okay, I know exactly what you're thinking. I DON'T CARE WHAT PEOPLE THINK. I DON'T CARE WHAT MY SOCIAL STATUS IS. I DON'T CARE ABOUT BEING POPULAR. Are you really so sure about that? If you tripped and fell flat on your face in front of all of your classmates spilling tomato sauce on your pants, don't you think you would be just the teeniest bit embarrassed? That's what I thought. I'm not saying it's such a bad thing to be embarrassed; everyone is entitled to their embarrassment every once in a while when they have their klutzy moments. It only becomes a problem when the fear of embarrassment stops you from living your life. If you're always scared that you're going to be embarrassed, you're not going to do anything you really want to do because that fear is always lurking the back of your mind, threatening to burst out at any moment.

Spending your whole life in fear is just a waste of time and useless paranoia. What's even worse is waiting by the phone waiting for someone to call or text. Of course, it's not just any someone. It's the someone. The one you can't take your eyes off of or can't wait to hold hands with on your way walking over to the annex after an intense hour of flirting in Geometry. Okay, so I'm sure your someone doesn't quite meet those specific guidelines, but you get my point. They are the one you want to wrap their arms around you and tell you how sexy you are when you haven't showered in a couple days, wearing sweats and make-up free. They are the one who text you 'Good morning, sweetie' as you are pulling on your shorts and t-shirt in the morning because you don't need to look cute for anyone because you don't need to impress anyone because the one you want is already yours. They are the one who makes you smile when tears are running down your face. They are the one who is ready to kick whoever's ass put those tears in your eyes. They are the one who you hate to see walk away because you already miss them. But then when they finally come back, you are disappointed because you had put them up on such a pedestal that their reality shocked you. They aren't perfect, even though you mistakenly thought them out to be. You find yourself having to come to terms with the fact that they are completely different than you first thought they were. Yes, they actually have flaws. It sounds stupid, but it's amazing how you can elevate a person to perfection when you think you're in love with them. Hence the word think you're in love with them. Are you really, though? If you have to ask yourself, then you're definitely not in love with them.

Back to my randomness-actually, my randomness is very well demonstrated in this chapter, to say the least. I'm a very all-over-the-place girl, if you know what I mean. Once again reiterating the point that I am the queen of changing topics faster than you can realize what you were talking about, I just randomly start talking about something else for no reason in particular. Now that we have determined what insane means according to dictionary.com, would you like to know what randomness means? Of course, you really don't have a choice in the matter because I'm going to tell you anyway. But I suppose you do have a choice as of if you choose to continue reading or not, but I know you will because you're just dying to find out more.
-randomness
-noun
-root word: random
-random
-adjective
1) proceeding, made, or occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern
2) of or characterizing a process of selection in which each item of a set has an equal probability of being chosen
3) lacking uniformity of dimensions; constructed or applied without regularity
-at random
1) without definite aim, purpose, method, or adherence to prior arrangement; in a haphazard way
-actual definition of randomness
-the quality of lacking any predictable order or plan

Don't you think that just characterizes me to a tee? Just add spontaneity to my mix of insanity and randomness, and you've described me spot on. Okay, so I might seem like just this perfect, carefree happy girl, but I really was anything but last year. Just like my relationship with Chris may seem perfect and ideal, but it really didn't get started off so well. Of course, Chris's little problem-we'll get to that later-and my little fling with another football player definitely set our relationship back quite back a bit. But of course, we'll get to that later-sooner than you think, but it all started back in good old Health class.