Confession: I’m a freaking weirdo.

I don’t honestly know how authentic I am on the interwebs and in person at times because it’s hard when you set off people’s weird-o-meters left and right.


I was explaining to my friend Hope the other day about weird-o-meters.
What? Did you not know about weird-o-meters? You probably have one, too. For me, if I’m hiding it that usually means I am not comfortable being myself around you, or it is a professional situation. Honestly, I don’t hide it well or much lately though.


This is right up my alley.


What the heck is a weird-o-meter? It looks different to everybody, based on your tolerance of things that are odd, awkward, strange, or overly-“creative”. Sometimes I can literally see when people have decided I am too quirky for them. This is a theory, to be sure. Some signs are: sudden disinterest in what you are saying, horrified facial expressions, quizzical looks, or a more subtle unfollow/unfriend scenario.


I began noticing my weird-o-meter at a young age. It just wasn’t okay with people that I act like who I am, so I toned my personality down. I learned to adapt to others and be the same as them. I didn’t want to be disliked; no one does. Nowadays it exhausts me to no end to hide it. I know when I’ve been hiding it because I feel like I do today. Pissy.


I was annoyed today. On top of hiding the weird-o-meter, I had reached my extrovert ceiling, maxed out. For all you fellow introverts I mean that I was at the point where I would heavy sigh and think, “Why do all of these people keep interrupting my thoughts with their talking?” Even when people were quiet I was afraid they would start talking, so I couldn’t focus on a dang thing. So, I asked politely to work off-site so I could think. This idea of “too” weird or hiding myself is nagging my thoughts.



Srsly, SRSLY?…srsly.

I like to joke that my future family is basically in for it. Being around me 24/7 is like signing up to participate a lifetime of improv comedy shows that I didn’t realize I’d been signed up for. My future husband is most likely a complete jokester or he has an extreme love of “creative types”.


There are those people in my life who love these weirdo things about me and even egg it on. I sincerely hope the same can be said for you, because we are honestly all weird to a degree. The only reason I ever started using my Twitter was because my friends Katie and Billy said I “had to” post all the random stuff I said because it was too funny for everyone to not embrace. So, I social media despite despising it. I’d really rather be on my bike, thanks. But those key people make it okay for me to be exactly who I am and I soak that all in. They love hearing my stories and maybe that’s what’s lacking and why I find myself perturbed. Maybe it’s a lack of odd freaking weirdos in my life. Or a lack of people embracing their unique quirks.


Life as a weirdo leaves you with an endless supply of tales to tell. Forget bedtime stories. I’ll write, design, and illustrate my own. Thanks and your welcome future kiddos. See, I wonder if these kind of comments set off people’s weird-o-meters? Who knows.



Tales of the Weird and Awkward

I will tell one of the endless number of tales in hope that it helps release your inner quirks, as well. Just yesterday, I got it in my head that I wanted a bike so I could ride around the neighborhood. Delightful. Well, I stopped by the grocery store on the way home and knew I would not be able to find a bike at that hour. So I figured I’d go running when I got home. But then I remembered how little old ladies power walk through the malls on Saturday mornings and how I really wanted to have time to read a book that night. Ultimately, to save time, the most logical thing to me was to power walk the grocery store. I began by assessing the size. It was probably ¼ of a mile, so I could probably do four laps. I debated whether I was a genius or just lazy. Deferred to genius. As I walked, I pretended I was frantically searching for something. I had cereal and blueberries in hand for some toned arm definition (and for my “power breakfast”). I made it two laps before I figured that people were getting concerned. It didn’t help that I cut off an old gentleman, who was probably shaking his fist saying, “Young lady, what do you think this is, a MALL? It’s a WEDNESDAY!” Honestly. I also saw a cop and figured there was the smallest possibility I could be doing something illegal. I ended up “finding” what I was “looking for” and got in the checkout line.


I’m not joking around when I say: I am quirky. And I think it is delightful and funny. I also think it is refreshing, and adore other freaking weirdos when they share this. Every community, I believe, needs way more quirky freaking weirdos. I have also tried to make clear in life that there is a massive difference between being weird and being creepy, so try not to tow that line (Today, Bekah and I determined that it creepy-crosses when it involves any kind of touching – arm, small of back, face, hair, facial hair, etc.). It’s fun to be this quirky but it’s tiring too because there aren’t a lot of people who live this way. It can be lonely. There aren’t a lot of people who even tolerate it in a society of “normals”.


It’s raining outside and I’m alone in my house. If I look up from my computer I feel overwhelmingly calm. I don’t have a bike yet, but I asked God today if He would surprise me with one soon, so I’ll keep you posted. I’m still going through withdrawals from when I moved and sold Cherry Bob-omb.


We have such great memories together!



The final tidbit to leave with is the following…

I go on walks during the day into the woods. Long story short, I ran across this path I’d not seen before and wanted to explore. I stopped myself. There were branches in the way, what if they had thorns or spiders? I felt a deep breath, because sometimes you have to go forward anyway to get to new places. Sometimes you have to be vulnerable to the hurts to also receive the blessings. Sometimes? Maybe all the time, I’m not sure. But I’m tired today. I don’t want to be vulnerable anymore, because the weird-o-meter keeps going off and I just want to pretend like I am “normal” to appease the masses. Luckily it’s getting harder and harder to stop myself from being most precisely and exactly who I am. I belong to God, perfectly myself, and so do you.


What do you find funny?

What sets off your weird-o-meter?

What’s your favorite quirk?


Dear Future Fam –


Let’s be weirdos together, okay?





2 thoughts on “Weird-O-Meter

  1. Patricia Brady says:

    You are perfect and funny, therefore perfectly funny.

  2. Lol, oh man, I totally wish I could’ve power walked the store with you! I love you Toni-Lyn!!! You’re delightful.

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