To Hell with Being Cool
Last night, I was kept awake by how much I felt blocked by my new blog even though I have had hundreds of ideas on who and what I wanted to write about since I published my introduction a month ago. So as I lay there, as awake as if I had drunk three cups of coffee just before bed, which I hadn’t, I decided to drill down into what had been stopping me from getting stuck into this project.
What I realised is that one of my big fears is appearing uncool. I have been wrapped around the axel of wanting to be cool since I was a child. This came from being bullied for my lack of fashion sense (that I didn’t give two hoots about), my eager interest in languages and social sciences, and how much I preferred imagination games and horse riding to magazines, boys and make-up.
Even in the years after leaving school to home educate, my unabated enthusiasm for certain people and things had a tendency to repel those around me. Probably, because I was the kind of teenager who would get very single track-minded about whatever my current passion was and struggled to find other topics of conversation. Viggo Mortensen in Lord of the Rings, Jane Eyre and most famously, my all consuming love affair with the band U2 were just a few of my adolescent fandoms. This latter obsession became synonymous with my character and for many people, I am sure I will always be that wide eyed adolescent, ready to talk for hours about Bono’s lyrics, or the feelings of spiritual transcendence I have felt at U2 concerts.
A few years ago while at university, a good friend told me to look up research about fan girl identity because she could see that although in my mid twenties by then, I still carried the wound of being regarded as a ‘hysterical’ and ‘obsessive’ teenage fans girl when it came to sharing my passions and interests. How pleasing it was to spend an afternoon reading papers that challenged such notions, which tend to be depressingly misogynist in their origins, and instead actively suggested the importance of fan-girl identity in the process of self realisation and actualisation.
Culturally speaking, I think British people tend to be suspicious of too much naked desire and passion; we seem, as a race, to associate it with incivility and crassness. Being passionate and enthusiastic requires a certain vulnerability and being vulnerable is always scary. Whether this is what worries my fellow Brits, I cannot say but I believe it is at the root of my particular insecurity. Using a blog to express my appreciation of various people triggers anxiety because what if I am ignored or, if I am read, what if I upset or offend someone? The fear of failure, either by writing or not writing is always there. The fear of being regarded as uncool for being so open about what and who I enjoy is right beside it in almost equal or higher measure.
When I am immersed in someone’s art, poetry or performance, am I feeling anxious about whether I am being cool enough? No, I am in the moment, wanting to share the joy/idea/inspiration/reflection/memory that that artist has awoken in me and the desire to be cool, or the aversion to its opposite, is the furthest thing from my mind.
So, on that note, I am going to spend the next series of blogs waxing lyrical about everyone I love. I want to see if this exercise in wordy cheerleading will work, that at the very least you the readers might get some recommendations to explore. Or maybe it will encourage you to go on your own reflective journeys pondering the individuals, groups and projects that build, encourage and inspire you, informing your identity and life experiences.
To hell with being cool, let this blog encourage you to be the person that your teenage Twilight obsession helped form. Recognise the influence of Dolly Parton or Bruce Springsteen’s music and feel into why they have been so important in your life. Or spend time offering quiet gratitude to Jameela Jamil for showing us that women can get red carpet ready in under ten minutes, in a moving vehicle. Take the post-millennial concept of STAN to heart, (which means essentially to fan-girl) the hell out of the people you love, famous, semi famous or not famous at all.
