Surfing in Wyoming
So, you may have wondered what the title of the blog is all about. Well, to explain, we have to go back a long, long time ago, to a faraway, distant, foreign land…
Temecula, CA. 1999.
Apparently playing with lady bugs out on the field at recess and making people out of your erasers with markers and yarn makes you weird at school or something. These boys, who can remember their names, used to tease me by calling me “freak of nature” and “Surfing in Wyoming!” Wyoming, to ten-year-old bullies, sounds like Nye-oh-me, which is an incorrect pronunciation of my name. And I became obsessed with grammar and the English language, go figure. So, I’m taking back the name (like “bitches!” and “queers”) to mean something good for me, even if in real life it caused pain ‑ and some frustration with the stupidity of ten-year-old boys, but that is not quite as traumatizing as teasing for a prepubescent girl. And, actually, now I kind of like it. It’s an apt title for a blog with no real, concrete theme, something kind of surreal and fantastical (and occasionally nonsensical), like the written works I hope to share. So far removed and old enough to realize the amazing lack of intelligence and creativity that boy bullies of the fourth grade variety show with their ridicule, my blog’s a slap back at all those kids that made you feel weird, inferior, and/or out of place on the playground. I’m not a freak of nature, I’m creative, thankyouverymuch. …There isn’t even surfing in Wyoming.
EDIT: So I looked it up just to make sure, and there actually is surfing in Wyoming along the Snake River. (Wtf?)