Allow me to set the scene: It is a Friday night in a nightclub on George Street (read: one of those fancy ones where the interior is nice and the drinks are expensive). The scene can almost be compared to a park back in the day where the better folk would be promenading to show off how much money they have to spend on clothes.
As other people tried to do the socially acceptable form of rocking to some kind of electronic remix, I realised I wasn’t concerned with being cool. Being one of those other people would look to and think “wow I wish that was me”.
Instead, we decided to trade the least cool dance moves we knew. Slowly, this group formed where the main aim was not to fit in with the rest, but instead to have a good time. I think that night may go down as the most fun I have had in a long time.
I have started realising that in contrast to my teenage years, I have started to reach a point where it is not as important to me what others think. Instead of being concerned with my image and fitting in with the norms, I have accepted that I’d probably lose a sense of myself in the process.
I have several uncool things I do; how many 22 year olds neatly stack their Tupperware? (most of my drawers are actually neatly organised) When I started kickboxing, I knew I’d never be the best, and that I’d probably struggle to learn most of the moves. (just have a look at tornado kicks) But I enjoy the kickboxing, so why should that be important? Karoline 5 years ago would never have done a sport where she’d inherently suck, but the importance of being the best in other people’s eyes is just no longer a main priority for me.
On a popularity scale, there’s no doubt I am far away from the top. And you know what, I’m cool with that.