I’m fairly sure all of us are familiar with the classic Hans Christian Andersen’s fairytale of “The Ugly Duckling.” It’s a fairly popular tale of redemption for the awkward and unpopular duckling that eventually finds themselves and joins the majestic and beautiful swans it was meant to be with. It really warms the heart but I really can’t relate at all. Nope, I’m more like the Content Camel (oh you’ve never heard of it, interesting, well I’ll break it down).
The Content Camel is very similar to the ugly duckling in that while growing up he was always different but yet he continued on his own way just happy to be there. The other horses would always poke fun of his hump (they named it Humpty Dumpty), his long eye lashes (Maybelline called, they want all their mascara back), his long neck (‘look at that long neck’ (they weren’t very creative with that one)) and wide feet (nicknaming him cameltoe). Yet the Content Camel went on with his own day just happy to be around and happy to be different, the end (not much of an ending I know).
I see a lot of myself in the Content Camel when I was growing up as well. I never really fit into the crowd so much, was a little different and always seemed to do my own thing. As I’ve mentioned before somehow the farm gene skipped me because my brother could spot a tractor a mile out in the field and be able to identify the make, model, year, what is was pulling, and the guy in it by the age of 8; I still pop the trunk to check the oil.
I was friends with this group but just not part of it. I played soccer (grass fairy) and ran track while the “jocks” played football and basketball. I wore “queer earrings” instead of Wranglers, smoked a little (just a little) bit of dope instead of putting a chaw in during class, and put out the vibe instead of hanging out in a cabin. I also can relate to the whole nickname shenanigans that the Content Camel faced as well.
It was junior high and even though the girls didn’t have much interest in me I had tons for them. I was searching for any in with the females and one day when my crush since like the 5th grade (I fall hard kids) gave me a nickname of “Butter” I thought I broke the code and was in. All the girls were talking to me and calling me every variation of Butter you can imagine (I finally made it). The name stuck through high school and even spread to nearby schools but of course it was too good to last. Well come to find out I came to school one day in junior high with really yellow teeth so I got the nickname “Butter” (woh woh waahh). So I feel the Content Camel pain of being nicknamed from the outline of a human female's labia majora (sort of).
I guess the point I’m trying to make (if there is one) is that I’ve always been a little different growing up. I don’t think it hurt me or I took any abuse or anything to that matter, in fact I was pretty content with everything and being different; maybe a little proud of it. Sure I may not have been cut from the same clothe as many of the kids around me but I was me and I’m not sure they all can say that. Maybe it was good I was different and took a little bit of guff for it (it’s all in good fun; except for you Cedarville, I still despise you) because now I’m a lot different and only getting more so by the day it seems (it could be worse I suppose; I could of been nicknamed after a women’s vagina).
Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!
Coming Correct,
d01roK
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