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| Not actually my children's school. Pretty sure this is a building made of Pepto-Bismol. Or salmon. |
Allow me to introduce myself. I am The Ma--
Hey! Me, over here. It's me, The Mave--
Hello?!
It's me, The Maven. But you can call me Maven because our kids go to the same school so we're tight, yo. I'm the one with the hair and the face and the shoes that stands in your very near vicinity while you all talk amongst yourselves and don't even notice. I even fell down once and cut my leg open.
Remember that?
Didn't think so.
I've been standing in the same yard as you every single school day since April. That's nearly six months, people. And sure, there were a few weeks of summer in there, but school is back in full swing now and I was determined to get at least some of you to know I'm real. I smile at you and try to laugh at your jokes to each other without sounding like I'm listening in on your conversation even though I am, but none of that seems to work.
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| I have serious eyelash envy. You could make curtains out of those things. |
You don't know I'm here. I feel like Snuffleuppagus. Or maybe I'm Big Bird because he's trying so hard to show you that Snuffy is real and you're all, "Sure, Big Bird..." and then to each other you're all, "Yeah, he's totally schizophrenic" and then Grover sips his latte and talks about the woes of private health care or whatever Americans do and then Maria nods and keeps talking to puppets like that's normal and you all just go back to your clique-y group conversations without me.
Anyway, the point is, I just don't see why we can't be friends. I mean besides that whole last paragraph. Forget that entire paragraph, ok? The whole thing.
I'm pretty awesome. Seriously. You don't know that, of course, because you think I'm a colourful tree that texts and hugs kids or something. But I assure you that I'm great. In fact, I'm a pretty big deal on the internet. True story. Just ask 0.000265% of Twitter and a fraction less than that of Facebook, and they will assure you I'm a gal worth knowing.
I didn't realize it would be so hard moving to a new school community. I was the shit at our old one. Intrepid started there 12 years ago and I jumped in with both feet: I volunteered, joined committees, and even scored some eventual paid work. Before long, I knew most of the staff on a first name basis and a large percentage of the students and their parents. I was never lonely, never felt out of place, never wished someone would just notice me.
It's not that everyone liked me. In fact, I'm pretty sure a bunch of people didn't. However, they knew who I was and they were civil with me. That, for some reason, was a lot easier to deal with than being a total nobody.
I'm not used to being a nobody. When I was a kid getting picked on at school, people at least knew who I was. I was the kid you picked on, of course. Duh. When I grew up and found my voice and my strength and my sense of humour, I became known as that quirky adult who writes about her life online and shares it with people and expects them to still want to talk to her.
But I'm noticed. Always. Except with you. I could just not show up tomorrow and you wouldn't be phased whatsoever.
At first I kind of loved the idea. I went from a town where I couldn't leave my house without running into someone I knew, to moving here where I know a handful of neighbours and a few (wonderful) people I met on Twitter. The anonymity has been pretty sweet. It's like a fresh start where I can look like crap in the grocery store and nobody will go, "Strange. Maven didn't have eyeliner on today. I should go read her blog and find out why." But I figured this stage would end eventually, you know? Especially at a school; a place where I'm usually the most comfortable. Am I being punk'd?
This game of yours is getting old and bordering on the truly bizarre. I make friends so easily, you guys. I'm The Maven, for crying out loud. How come you don't even know I'm here?
I've decided the universe, in its infinite wisdom, is trying to teach me something.
Maybe it wants to remind me that it doesn't revolve around me. (I'm awaiting more scientific proof on that one.)
Maybe it wants to show me that I don't have to be known to a lot of people to feel comfortable. (But you know, it doesn't hurt.)
Maybe it wants to see how many Sesame Street analogies I can come up with. (Challenge accepted.)
Maybe it's simply stating that my level of awesomeness far exceeds what you parents at this new school can handle, what with my skull-emblazoned scarves and glitter nails and Doctor Who socks and OMG I THINK YOU'RE JEALOUS OF MY FASHION SENSE.
Mystery solved.
I have no choice but to forgive you and try a little harder tomorrow.