For a while now I’ve fallen into listening to Depeche Mode, getting certain songs stuck on my brain. This is what rants are made of.
I do everything wrong. I’ve spoken about this before, that doing things wrong is ok, and I still think it’s fine. If you’re not thinking the right things, you’re thinking wrong. If it doesn’t end well, it ends bad.
But what if you do everything wrong? That surely must be right?
There’s something wrong with me, chemically
I can’t cook. Or bake. This I say as a person born into a family of bakers and exeptional cooks. I’ve never been trained in either. I taught myself how to fry salmon because I felt like eating salmon. I hardly ever read recipes, and if I do it’s usually to find out how I can change it. I have a sense of what things should look and taste like, and work from there. Recipes are mostly bullshit anyway. And still I’m sitting here with my dad talking about whether we could make a cookbook together. I still can’t make white sauce, by the way. Apparently this is a big deal to some.
Something wrong with me, inherently.
I can’t draw, and I’m a graphic designer. I make logos. I have a long list of illustrations behind me. I’m anal when it comes to drawing letters just right, but I cannot draw.
The wrong mix in the wrong genes.
I’m a girl who loves talk about cars (I don’t know much about them, though), dresses, getting dirty, high heels, candy, modeling, video games, hair… I’m a real princess of the wild sort. And my name is Rambo. Well, it was said I was to be named Rambo. If I were a boy. It was so serious, the local newspaper simply printed “Rambo was a girl” when I were born instead of “Anette and Vegard had a cute baby girl” like they usually do. I’ve always had guy friends, and never figured out how other girls work properly. I find girls as a group weird, superficial and hard to get to know, and strictly speaking; impossible. If I care about talking to another female for more than five minutes, though, I tend to find out that most are completely ok. If you don’t count the idiots, but they are somewhat equally spread across the genders. I’m thinking I might be the weird one.
I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means.
For times where I should have been out among people, I’ve been home instead engaging in social media. For periodes of times where I could have benefited from nurturing myself, I’ve rather spent the time sacrificing myself for others. Where life has been hard, I’ve moved on harder. I didn’t do homework when I had to, but I gladly did extra homework when I wanted to.
It was the wrong plan.
I never had a plan. I wanted to do music design. I wanted to make solutions for conserts. I also wanted to become a horse masseuse. I would at least always do something involving horses, because I wanted to be a harness racing coachman. And I wanted to work with motion graphics. When I were five I wanted to be a calligrapher. Of all these goals, the dream I had when I were five were the closest one to what I’ve become.
In the wrong hands.
I rarely listen to doctors. I was asked to quit tae kwon do, so I started doing Jiu Jitsu instead. From there I went on to Capoeira. After that there were some other forms of martial arts. Before I started tae kwon do I had to quit street jazz.
The wrong theory for the wrong man.
I’ve listened to much to certain people, and I’ve listened to little to others. A life isn’t a life isn’t a life. Nothing and everything is wrong. Philosophy makes my head spin.
The wrong eyes on the wrong prize.
I focus too much on wrong. One should think “right”. Everything you do is right, else you wouldn’t have done it. You can’t do anything but than what you’re doing, or you would do that instead. If you’re thinking that all you do is wrong, then all you do is also correct. Nothing is written in concrete.
The wrong questions with the wrong replies.
Everything goess well in the end. We still live. We’re still super. I want to go as far as saying that if you’ve read this, you’ve achieved something. You learned how to read once. In a world where analphabetism still exist, that’s quite amazing. Somehow you have access to the internet. That’s kinda something. You’ve most certainly have an opinion about what I say. The opinion might be “uh-huh” or “but you’re wrong” or “you’re boring” or “you’re amazing”. It doesn’t have to say much, but the fact that you can read a body of text, process it and have a personal opinion about it is quite fantastic.
That’s not very wrong.