I didn’t realize how truly weird I am until I hit my mid-forties.
This aspect of my personality was brought home to me by Cirque du Soleil.
I’d checked out ‘The Journey of Man’ from the library. This Cirque du Soleil Special took my breath away. As soon as I popped the DVD in, I was entranced. I didn’t even make it back to the couch to watch it. I ended up on the coffee table.
Over the space of the following week, I visited libraries, checking out every Cirque du Soleil DVD I could get my hands on. I was like a 300 lb Sumo with a box of Little Debbies. I barely got the wrapping off before I consumed another.
Then, one day, as I was standing in my kitchen doing something innocuous – like peeling a potato – it hit me. I have the soul of an out-of-contol French circus. Put me in a psychedelic unitard, paste sequins on my forehead, and viola’, you have captured my inner freak.
A case in point: My shoes.
Once, at a friend’s Art Reception, I remarked on her amazing, glittery clogs. I would have stolen them off her feet if I had the gait for them. I seem to have the remarkable ability to kick my clogs across the room if I walk too briskly.
She told me that her husband only lets her wear them to art shows. I hated to tell her that I have a whole closet full of amazing, glittery shoes that I wear everywhere. Even to Walmart.
Another case in point:
Normal people hang paintings or photographs on their walls. Not me. Six years ago, I hacked bits of my parents’ rampant honeysuckle vines from their moorings and tacked them to my walls. I wedged foreign food posters under them, and then hung the occasional crystal bead from their branches. One friend eyed them and asked me if I have a problem with spiders.
Last night, unable to sleep, I plugged in my laptop and watched episodes of the home decorating show, Myles of Style. Words like ‘classic chic,’ and ‘casual elegance’ flowed around me. I enjoyed the designs. And then Kim Myles did something that I fell in love with. Classic, chic, and elegance fell to the wayside. She hung a tree branch from a ceiling light fixture and hung crystals from the branches. I was delighted. I recognized my home. . . And then she called it ‘bohemian’.
Now I know what my problem is.