Halloween

At work we were given the option of dressing up for halloween if we wanted to.  It’s cool that an office place would let you do that. Not that many people came dressed up, but a few did. A friend of mine came in dressed as me.

While this at first was flattering, it soon became not so flattering. She dressed in ballerina flats, flare legged jeans, a black sweater, hair in a pony tail, eye shadow and I drew my arm tattoo’s on her.  It was pretty funny. But then as the day wore on and I kept hearing people say to her that she nailed it and how funny it was, I began to think really hard about it.

Here’s the thing. I’m much more than what I wear. Yes, I am more comfortable in jeans than in anything else. I’ve had the luxury of being able to wear jeans for the past 3 years at my various jobs. I wear my hair in a ponytail because it’s simple and I don’t have to mess with it. I’ve done my make up the same way with the same brand for over 5 years. I’m a creature of habit.

People kept walking up to me asking if I was her for halloween. I just said no. What I wanted to say was, I dressed up as a bike race promoter. I’m tired, over worked, never paid, doing it for the love of something that I forget about half way through the process. I dressed up as something that defines me more heavily than the clothes that I wear. I dressed up as a part of me. A part that gives me strong opinions, passion, and a fire somewhere deep inside. A piece of me that makes me joyful beyond belief, sad to the depths of my soul, and a little brain dead.

I’m more than a promoter, or director, whatever the new USAC title is. I’m a friend, connoisseur of fine and not so fine beers, a total nerd, a bike rider, a lover of all things Detroit, a dog owner, a “try very hard to garden, often fail”, a HTML reader (less exciting than a palm reader), a “cry at every Disney movie”, and sometimes a baker. I don’t dance well, but given enough booze, I’ll try. I love sarcasm, and found a new nerd joy when I was able to compute heavy duty numbers on the number key pad without looking at it. I like to wear neon yellow, not because it’s flattering, but because I love it. I love things that smell like the beach. I’m a sucker for most things that make no sense to “normal” people. I want very much to be friends with the lady from My Drunk Kitchen (my kitchen is always open to you if you come to Detroit). I like to smell cups before I drink out of them. I have tattoo’s that you wont understand, but have meaning to me, more meaning than most material objects do. In the past 3 weeks I’ve checked more things off my to-do list than I have in years, and all do to me being a huge geek. I have anger issues, luckily for those who love me, my anger comes and goes in about 2 minutes. I only want to do great things, but often do lots of mediocre things that add up. I can argue my way out of anything. I have amazing friends who do amazing things. I know the people that are doing things, and I hope that they think the same of me.

Ok, so maybe that was all way to much information. Point is, I’m more than the clothes I wear. I feel like some weird sort of PSA. But I didn’t like being typecast in my own life.

 

(I harbor no hard feelings towards the person who dressed up as me, only that it made me think about who I am and how I look to other people.

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