Horrific Onslaught Of Cliches
So recently (like the last few months) there’s been an influx of new blogs, all of them pretty similar. Vaguely humorous, relatively informal and suitably relatable.
I know mine pretty much fits into all these categories, well maybe not the relatable one (don’t tell me your lives are as tragic as mine) or the humorous one (unless you find my failings oddly hilarious) but definitely the informal one.
Living the dream guys.
Anywayyy, my point is that for a reader, or anyone who has multiple blogger friendies on facebook, these blogs can become pretty repetitive and annoying.
(Yes, yes, I’m a hypocrite but that won’t stop me spamming you all with URLs in a desperate plea for love.)
I go so off topic in these posts.
My initial thoughts for this post were to address the steadily-spreading infection of identical-blog-virus but when I think about it, I don’t expect anyone to change the way they write, or what they write about, just to stand out. That defeats the point of being different in the first place.
*I feel like this post is stemming into a completely different topic but I’m going to roll with it.
I came back from this christian-y, music-y, amazing-y summer school I have done for the last four years yesterday and while I was there, being prayed for, I was told that God called me to be different and that He was proud that I was unique.
Call it divine intervention or just friendly encouragement, it was still a big wake up call.
I had strived to be different my whole life. I even went though a phase of wearing all my clothes on top of each other and calling it carefully picked layers, a phrase I had read in a magazine, in the hope of someone noticing how different I was. I think that’s where my bag-lady thing came from.
It almost became an obsession. I focused on what everyone else wasn’t wearing instead of just wearing what I liked and looked good on me.
So this carried on all the way through junior and primary school (age 7-15) until a few months ago when I came to the conclusion that it was exhausting changing my hair style, fashion choices and music taste everytime I noticed someone wearing/listening to the same thing as me.
I decided to just wear what I wanted to wear (and listen to as much Camp Rock as I desired) and not care if I was wearing the same top as someone on the street or if I had done my makeup the same as all my friends (like it matters).
So, the ‘wake up call’ was that as soon as I stopped trying to be unique and instead let myself be who I am, (which is naturally kinda weird), that was when everybody noticed.
And not just everybody, but God.
The fact that He was proud of me, and that He could see into my heart, not just what was on the outside, made me realise how lucky I was to have come to this conclusion so early on in my life.
This post isn’t to convert you or fill you head with scary God-stuff but to simply say that being different isn’t wearing weird, uncomfortable clothes (that’s fine if you do, go for it sista) or listening to obscure music that sounds like a whale vomiting to a funky beat, but simply what’s inside your heart.
Sorry if this is a horrific onslaught of cliches, I just need to get it out of my system.
The people who are truly different are the ones who see the good in someone before the bad, the ones that choose compassion over revenge and the ones that sort out their issues rather than writing bitchy indirect tweets.
I’m not saying I’m not guilty of any of the aforementioned deeds, I used to be the queen of indirect tweeting, but that that’s the sort of person I want to be.
That’s the sort of different I want to be.
In case any of you are interested in entering the music industry, and/or are open to making a new best friend in the big J-man, check this organisation out yo: http://www.ngm.org.uk/
hey! i'm an 21 year old medical student (currently intercalating in anthropology) living it up in east london! i spend my spare time playing dixie chicks on guitar (badly), attempting to do yoga and turning it up at my church.