Individual Style

Okay, as long as I'm fumb,ing around in old creative crap o' mine, let's pull out this piece of wordsmithing from 1991.  It was actually written as part of my profile for Delphi Internet Services, now Delphiforums.  Come to think of it, it's still there, but you have to be a member to see it.  A few people who read this silly blog were members and may recognize it, or they've read it because I shared it with them somewhere along the 22-year line.

Anyway, it was written for a section asking about my fashion statement, but really, it's also my general style in my approach to life.  So, if you're curious, read on and maybe enjoy:

When I was in my teens, I didn't want to be like the others who made statements with their choice of clothes, hair, etc. I rebelled by not joining my peers in making a noticeable statement. I had opinions that were voiced in simple questions and simple remarks. I wasn't doing it deliberately. I just wanted to be me.

When I was in my twenties, I never fit the fashion statement of "in". I tended to be conservative in that regard. My hair got shorter and shorter, even though the look of the late 70's into the 80's was still long and flowing, a la Farrah Fawcett. I didn't feel the need to join in how others were making their point. I could make the same point without all the hoopla. I wasn't doing it deliberately. I was just being me.

When I reached my thirties, I found that the groundwork of who I am and how I make my statements had been laid in the prior decades of my life. It wasn't that I was plain or conservative or just wimpy in my choices. My style was one of simple lines - nothing fancy, nothing bold. A statement in subtlety, which is how I tend to approach life. I wasn't doing it deliberately. I was merely continuing to be me.

As I pass the age of fifty, that clothing style still remains and will be with me, I suspect, for the rest of my days. My hair is about the only thing that's changed periodically, short to long to short again, and, like its owner, has a mind of its own. I have come to realize that my late grandmother was correct when she called me a "bucker" (yes, I did hear her right). I am a renegade in my own right - a quiet one, but a renegade nonetheless.

I have also realized that I was doing it deliberately all along, although not always consciously.

Yes, it's me, and I shall continue to be me until my last day on the planet.