Walking Contradiction

August 30, 2008

Just like the Green Day song, I’m a walking contradiction.  I’m a girl from a painfully cutesy suburb who would rather wear denim shorts than leather and spikes.  You’d never guess from looking at me that I love punk rock, but I do.  You don’t have to follow a dress code to believe in something.  In a way I think it would be worse if I started spiking my hair and piercing my lip.  It’s a great look for some people, just not for me.  I don’t have the attitude to pull it off.

It is funny, though, the way I’ve gotten caught between two worlds.  I hate the idea of pink and green together (except on the cover of Never Mind the Bollocks) but I’m not keen on solid black either.  One day I’ll wish I could stomp around looking like Brody Dalle, the next I’ll spend forever on my hair.

It’s also weird being the only punk fan among my friends.  Sometimes I wonder what they would think if they got a hold of my iPod.  “The Distillers?  Bad Religion?  Where’s Rihanna?  And who the hell is Black Flag?”

When I really think about it, none of that bothers me.  Punk music makes me happy.  The square peg in a round hole syndrome is something I’ll just have to take.  The early punk bands didn’t spend years being called a “menace to society” so that I could dither about clothes.  If they hadn’t persevered, I still wouldn’t know what punk was.  So I’ll keep being a hybrid, humming along to “Reject” as I head for class in toxic green Crocs.  I yam who I yam…and I still hate spinach.



  1. “You don’t have to follow a dress code to believe in something.”

    100% Correct!

    Brodys look changes on a near daily basis. I was used to the Brody “Young Crazed Peeling” look with full on Liberty Spikes. Then I met her backstage at Reading last year and she had straight hair and looked quite “Mainstream” it was wild. Further proof its not how you look but what you believe.

  2. Yeah, she’s toned down the look a bit ever since she became a mama.

    I too love punk, as in love-Love-LOVE, no other music connects to my insides quite the way it does. I’ve never wholesale adopted the culture (except from the ages of eleven to fifteen, when I was the hardest little oibaby you ever saw), but I’ve never been uncomfortable in a room full of punks, either. I was rocking the cute end of the grunge look, I guess, before anybody ever knew what the hell grunge was: Adoring wearing a dress, never without my docs. No eye makeup, but the deepest shade of dark cherry lipstick available to man. Visual incongruities that ultimately worked because a) I was comfortable and b) they pointed a finger at the natural dichotomies that nearly everyone totes around.

    My exterior is flavored with a lot of little nuances. My insides have been cobbled out of many really significant happenings, stapled together with a pretty keen sense of Awareness. You reach a certain point in life, I think, where you realize there are certain elements of style you prefer, but the outsides don’t really matter as much to you. You start taking stock of the internal inventory, moving things around, settling stuff, deciding who you truly are at the heart of it all. That’s the most unsettling time. But it’s also the most satisfying….deciding who you are and aggressively pursuing that person.

    You’re not caught between two worlds. You’re carving out your own. You are juuuuuust fine.

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