I have been weird my whole life, but in an Addams Family/Munsters way, where I go about my life feeling rather ordinary and doing the ordinary things I do, only to have people feel the need to repeatedly tell me that I’m weird. I’m never sure what, exactly, they think is so weird about me, but there it is.
“You’re just so INTERESTING, Celia. Wow, you really are INTERESTING, aren’t you? MY my, what an INTERESTING person you are.” And they say it like it’s a compliment or something. No shit. I’m interesting. I know I’m interesting, I don’t need you to tell me that.
“Interesting,” to me, sounds very similar to “weird.” I guess it’s supposed to be complimentary, but, when it’s the default of how you are–just that way–it doesn’t really feel so much like a good thing to be called.