This week’s Finish the Sentence Friday is a juicy one. Be sure to check out the linkage at the bottom, and please, in the name of everything sacred like chocolate, and, yes, I’m going there, Tiramisu and Spumoni, In the Name of Tiramisu, sign up for my damn newsletter.
When it comes to cliques, that exclusive club for like-minded members that justifies this song, I’m my own clique. In my basic essence, I belong no where, so I hang out everywhere.
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I probably understand cliques better than most people because I see them more for what they truly are, but I don’t get the motivation behind the behavior. I’m guessing it’s fear.
Take these two things…
1. Who you really are
2. How you want to be perceived
Those are one in the same to me. I want the world to see me for who I really am. I want you to know the truth about me. I want you to know my flaws and my strengths, my beauty and my ugly. All those things make me me, and I take pride in all of it.
But for most people I know, those are two totally separate things. Who they really are is only shared with people they trust and love. How they want to be perceived is usually nothing like who they really are.
A lot of people do it because that’s how it’s done. It’s so far etched into our social fiber that if you don’t do it, you will struggle with everything in life from making money to making friends. It’s so bad, if you don’t do it, you will be diagnosed and treated for it.
I also think people do it because they fear the light. Not to get biblical here (but this is what God meant about evil fearing the light), people are afraid to let that light shine on all of them, showing everything from their beautiful eyes to the scar on their cheek to the blood on their hands. Nobody wants the world to see the ghosts of bad decisions, the demons of their desires, and the skeletons of their true human nature, and they don’t want to see those things when they look in the mirror either. Denial and delusion protect us from these monsters.
Fear of rejection also plays a role. If people reject the fake you, that still protects the real you from being rejected. Even better, if you give people what they want, they probably won’t reject you.
On top of it, if you appear weak, the wolf pack instinct is to take you down. So we hide our weaknesses for survival. There’s a reason when someone asks, “How are you doing,” most of the world answers, “Fine. I’m doing great! And yourself?”
Cliques look like it’s based on interest on the surface, to help people define who they are, but deep down inside, cliques are not about personal interests. Cliques provide the social organizational structure to help you in that pursuit of defining who you are to other people.
In high school, we defined our cliques by extra-curricular activity. Now that we are grown, the cliques morphed into politics, religion and career.
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I hate cliques. They enable people to be fake liars. Hell, they even justify it. It’s social suicide to veer from the social rules and, gasp, be yourself.
My personal issue is cliques often want you to conform to their standards and beliefs and opinions, and I can’t do that. I just can’t. I can’t change who I am to appeal to other people, not even for a few hours.
I can’t pretend I hate homosexuals when I’m around conservatives. Nope. Homosexual feelings trump impressing people. I can’t pretend I’m all for gun banning around the liberal crowd. I swore an oath to defend my constitution and the liberties and freedoms of the people, and no liberal is worth going against that oath.
Then going another level. I’m weird. My brain is wired differently than what’s typical to our species.
Yesterday, my friend said, “Where’s your common sense?”
I replied, “I don’t have common sense. I have an IQ instead.”
The issue is, people live inside a box. They think inside the box. They pretend they want to think outside of the box, but when invited to leave their box, they won’t budge. They pretend they want to be around people who think outside of the box, but when they are around people like that, their response is, “WTF? That person is crazy. Stay away from them.” Yet they buy books on how to think outside of the box as if they are ever going to vacate that clique.
That stupid box, that clique, is a cage. I’m an animal who refuses to be caged. I’m a free spirit, and I think what I want to think. I do what I want to do. I hate rules. I hate unwritten rules. I hate social rules. I hate P’s and Q’s. I hate that people want me to behave a certain way.
I hate it so much, I hate watching people tell other people how to live.
“Don’t get your kids vaccinated. Vaccinations are the devil.”
“If you don’t get your kids vaccinated, you are the devil for killing us all with your small pox black plague of death.”
How about? “Do what you feel is right for you, but please, don’t leave the country unvaccinated and then come back and send your kid to school.”
Do you guys not understand, even if you are talking politics and meaningful topics, you still sound like this when you exclude people from your world over a stupid rule in your head…
I don’t do cliques.
BRACE YOURSELVES FOR AN UNUSUAL METAPHOR!
I’d love to have a wolf pack of brotherhood, but one that embraces diverse minds and opinions. No such wolf pack exists. That’s because wolves don’t do that. Wolves declare who is in charge, and who is not, usually by the strength of the scent of their urine (that’s metaphorical to, “for ridiculous reasons that make no real sense though it’s considered common sense”). Then they prey, as a pack, on the weak and injured, not for survival, but for ego.
Then there is a small handful of people like me. The Lion’s Pride. Yes, in the cat world, we just do our own thing. We don’t care if your urine is stronger than ours. We get into a fight, not to win, but to fight. Losing doesn’t matter as long as you fight with style, grace and ferocious courage. We’re not going to attack you unless we have a reason for survival, whether it’s to eat, or to stop us from being eaten, or to protect something we love. We are so badass, we don’t need the weak and injured to stroke our egos. We don’t need a wolf pack to win either, not even when up against a wolf pack. Preying on the weak and injured with a posse helping you keeps you weak. Not exactly the best workout.
But most people mistake a Lion for another wolf, so I appear to be the Lone Wolf, like Chuck Norris. But deep down inside, I’m a cat. Affection is on my terms, and if you don’t like what I’m doing, fuck you.
TAKE A DEEP BREATH. MY METAPHOR IS OVER. WHEW THAT WAS A BIT MUCH FOR A STUPID BLOG WASN’T IT?
I am not part of a clique. I’m always an outsider due to the fact that I refuse to follow the unwritten rules, but I hang out with cliques.
Try not to get offended by this. It really is observation mixed with some humor, but in all honesty, I don’t give a shit how fucked up a person is, even when they don’t want to admit it. I still love them all. And I don’t really actually think if you are part of any of these cliques that you, in particular, do these things, but if you do, I’m like, “Ha, how original.”
Honor Students.
Rules: Do your homework. Follow all the school’s rules. Take all the math and science classes, and be in advanced classes when they are available. Use big words even if you don’t know what they mean. Act intellectually superior to outsiders. Try not to have a sense of humor. In the name of everything unholy, don’t screw up they’re, their, there.
Leader: The Highest IQ followed by the Highest GPA
The Rednecks.
Rules: Try not to get stuck in the creek while driving up it. Don’t talk about anything intellectual–keep it at bar talk chit chat. You can always have another beer. More mud, the merrier. Act superior to the other cliques because you have a moral fiber, but with that moral fiber, don’t forget to hate gay people, black people, Mexicans and communists. Never disrespect the confederate flag. Start at least one sentence with, “I may not be the smartest guy, BUT…”
Leader: The designated driver
The Choir and Band Geeks.
Rules: Join in when someone breaks out in song. Karaoke songs are a professional performance. Sneak booze in the tuba. Act superior to the other cliques because they don’t have your talent. Put a sexual, perverted spin on everything that is said, “Hehe, said, rhymes with head.” Giggle every time you break a minor rule (run that yellow light you rebel you).
Leader: Whoever is closest related to the Band Director, and the choir singer who sings the most solos.
Geek.
You have to be a gamer of some sort to be accepted here.
Rules: The standard uniform is a cartoon character or internet meme t-shirt. For God’s sake, NEVER confuse Star Wars with Star Trek. Religious choice of preference is atheism, and treat it like it’s a cult. Watch Japanese Anime, documentaries and Game of Thrones. The characters in video games and comic books are real people. At least know who Kevin Smith is. Read all the credits at the end of movies. You are superior to the other cliques because you are intellectually superior more so than the Honor Student.
Leader: The guy with the most Pokemon cards.
The Hippies.
Rules: Try to wear Patchouli and use hemp products. Be anti-vaccination and anti-corporation and pro-legalize marijuana. Admire The Grateful Dead. Put animal needs over human ones. Avoid gluten; embrace the tofu. Believe acid and LSD are religious experiences. Hate the military. Believe in some cause that will help the world whether it actually would or not. Never put aluminum cans in the plastic bottle bin. Pretend you are superior to the other cliques because you care more about the earth. Be a liberal with pride.
Leader: Whoever has the biggest dreadlocks, but if you keep going up the chain of command, headquarters are located in Boulder, Colorado.
Cheerleaders.
Rules: Curl your ponytail and add a ribbon in the school colors to show your spirit, you know, for the student body you spend the entire day mocking. Don’t miss practice. Smile, even when you shit, smile. Try not to watch the game you’re cheering for. Be superior to everyone else because you are beautiful and perky, and make sure everyone believes you are sleeping with a football player. If we break out into DEFENSE when our team is offense, keep going with it or we will kick you out.
Leader: Head Cheerleader of course
Jocks.
Rules: Work out. Get a tutor. Run faster. Don’t give up. Embrace the awesome of the Rocky Soundtrack. Keep that jock itch in check. Show off your massive muscles to everyone, including yourself in the mirror (those muscles do define you), and including that nerd who didn’t worship those muscles (yeah, stick his head in that toilet and flush). Act superior to the other cliques because you are stronger and faster and Darwin says you are the best.
Leader: Team Captain
Me.
Rules: There are no rules except don’t be a douche bag or spam.
Leader: My heart, which is basically another way of saying, God (because that’s where He talks to you).
I have friends who are liberals, and friends who are conservative. Some of them classify in the nut job fanatics of these. I have Christians, atheists, and witches. I have all the races, all the music, all the movies and all the books in my friends interests collectively.
I am friends with anyone, especially if they are a decent person, but that’s not a requirement. I am in all the cliques because I don’t do cliques.
I look at people like ghosts. We all have a ghost within us. A spirit. And that’s what we are. An essence, and every essence plays a role in this world. One is not better than the other. One is not more important than another. We just are.
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