Lavender dreams dilly, dilly lavender true

I can't remember exactly when, but I feel as though I've known this for a while. It's just the predictability and continuity of being in a room of 26 my "peers" that makes it blatantly obvious. I am not quite "right" for this theatre mold. Not using that as a cop out -- I promise. I'm saying that after 14 hours of listening to people present their scenework and receive top honors for creating a piece just like every other piece that had been presented that day, I couldn't help but feel like I had missed the memo. I feel like everyone interpreted the assignment as "How I will sell an Afterschool Special Onstage". I was bored out of my mind to listen to monologue after monologue of "I had a horrible life until this teacher changed my world." Wow. Gag me with a saccharine spoon. Of course, I won't discredit that some of the people had really great writing skill and their technique was pristine. But I believe the most rewarding part of writing is the ideas, the quintessential moments that are the all recapitulating metaphors and symbols and quirks that encompass the theme of the piece. Not another "I'm going to write an essay about how BLAH changed my life." I find that very TAKS-y and completely fabricated and boring. I feel frustrated and stifled at this workshop.

I've brought my perspective to the table even in the face of confronting their obvious dissimilarity to every other piece out there. Everything I brought up was met with high-acclaim, but I don't feel like it was completely understood. Instead, people took my ideas and made gaudy showgirl pieces out of something I crafted as meaningful. Worst of all, these people are so very proud of their accomplishments. Oh what wonderful thinkers they are! To write your own version of someone else's creative vision. It's frustrating. Beyond frustrating. And then now I find myself in this position, what do I do? Stay true to my designs even though they are now soiled by the tacky knock offs? I don't want my pieces to look sickly in comparison. Part of me would rather abstain from giving them any of my writing then letting it become mangled pieces of fluff and flair.

I know that it is important to take criticism and make adjustments and realize that writing is constantly evolving. But I can't help but feel frustrated when I feel like the majority's view of progress is merely recession to a "safer" level.

However, I will say that there is a very positive outcome of this whole thing. I realize that I am different, it's painfully obvious how similar everyone else's work is and mine stands out in such a graceful and unassuming way that I can only see potential in my ideas for the future. No one ever was rewarded for being exactly the same, and I find comfort in that for its a concept I wrestle with often. I worry that I don't stand out enough in much of anything to ever be great at something. My writing is innovative and different and GOOD. I know it is. I also know that I have a very long way to go if I want to succeed with this, and that its absolutely important that I never think that I can not learn more. I believe that my uniqueness is not only limited to writing but pertains to many other factions of my life as well..

Different has become the new same with everyone dressing like punk rockers or scene kids to show how rebellious and non-conformist they are by shopping at the chain store and buying the same clothes as Pete Wentz.

I honestly don't fit into any of the popular stereotype categories, I honestly do not wear anything trendy, I don't buy the magazines or listen to the radio! I don't dye my hair the crazy colors to make a point or wear the designer labels to prove my worth. I do shop at Thrift Town and buy the quirky things that make me happy and don't fit into any category. My personality and my tastes are unlike anyone I've ever met. It's not that I listen to unknown uber hip underground music, I just listen to thing that are either outdated, overlooked, and sometimes a has-been mainstream that no one likes anymore. But I don't define my tastes by a style or an image. I'm not immune to feeling this way, but I am aware and even if I wanted to fit a mold -- I'd do a poor job. Too different for mainstream but not "alternative" enough for the non-conformist sheep.

If those are the shades of black and white, I swear I must be the color lavender. I sure in hell am not grey; I don't lie in the realm between these two extremes. I just lie in a realm completely of my own.