Friday, December 2, 2011

It's Not Easy Being Green

I sometimes wonder if I’ve become a dork.  Don’t get me wrong.  Dorks are good people, but when I was a little girl and dreamed about what I was going to be when I grew up, I wasn’t hoping I’d be a dork.  I don’t mean to sound arrogant.  I embrace dorks.  I just don’t really want to be one.  However, I’m starting to worry I may be developing dorkish tendencies.  It’s nothing I can quantify, but sometimes, when I’m talking with people, they seem to be smiling more with sympathy than enjoyment.  And every now and then, I think I even see a slight eye roll.   That’s when I get the feeling that whatever I have just done or said might have been dorky.  

Since I’ve been getting these feelings more frequently, I’ve started wondering what  exactly constitutes dorky?  I know there are some indisputable dorkisms (is that a word?) like wearing socks with your Tevas or Chacos.  (Pleeeze.  I would NEVER do that even though I live with know somebody who does.)  But, as with many parts of life, even dorkism has a grey area.  What about Birkenstocks? When I wear wool socks with my Birkenstocks, am I being dorky?

Does adding a short story small note to my on-line purchase order explaining the heartwarming reason for my purchase constitute a dorkism?   

Is it more dorky, less dorky, or just a Hallmark moment if I find myself blinking back tears as I tell a real live store clerk that …

I’m buying the fancy dress shoes with the sparkling ruby-like jewel on the top because once when we were kids, my sister asked for a Cinderella doll for Christmas.  The doll she wanted was dressed in a beautiful velvet gown, with long white gloves and delicate see-through shoes with a “real” ruby on the top of each one.  But our parents had no money for expensive gifts so Mom knit my sister a pair of slippers out of white yarn (because they didn’t make see-through yarn) and she tied a red pompom on the top and told my sister they were her special Cinderella slippers.  My sister, of course was happy to have them because the slippers helped to keep her feet warm as we slept huddled together under a tattered and thin quilt.  But I would hear her quietly crying to herself at night, wishing for that Cinderella doll with the fancy see-through shoes with the “real” ruby on top.  Every Christmas I think of my sister and our mom and the knitted slippers with the red pompom she got instead of the Cinderella doll, so when I saw these fancy dress shoes with the ruby-like jewel on top I just had to buy them for her because it reminded me of that Christmas when we were kids and …

 No, of course I wasn’t telling that story to the store clerk because I wasn’t buying the shoes with the ruby-like jewel on top.   I just made that up.  I can’t tell you what I was buying because it’s Christmas and it’s a surprise.  Spilling the beans would be dorky!


What about when I cut out paper heads, glued them to cardboard, taped a popsicle stick on the back and then took “the heads” to Edinburgh because life intervened and “the heads” couldn’t come to the wedding of their son?  I didn’t think that was dorky, although I did worry the bride and groom might think it was a wee bit inappropriate.   

But maybe I got too excited about “the heads” and showing them the sights.  When Dean’s eyes were rolling and the girls were looking skyward, walking away from me and my “heads”, was that a signal that I’d crossed the line from thoughtful to dorky?  Or was it when I had so much fun taking the pictures of “the heads” that I couldn’t understand why Dean and the girls were a little embarrassed just because strangers were staring and whispering to each other as we photographed “the heads.”  Did that mean I was ... a dork?

I’m positive that writing thank you notes isn’t dorky, but if I write a thank-you note for a thank-you letter, is that dorky?  I need to know because I received a very undorky thank-you letter recently from one of “the heads” and it was so nice, and made me feel so good that I want to write a thank-you note for the thank-you letter.   But I can’t write a nice thank-you note for the thank-you letter on plain old white paper.  I really need to go buy some special thank-you for the thank-you letter stationery.  And I’m pretty sure, as the clerk is taking my money and bagging my very special thank-you for the thank-you letter stationery, I will tell her the whole story …

I am buying this very special paper because I need to write a thank-you note to one of “the heads” who wrote me a thank-you letter which was kind and used words like touched and thoughtful and wonderful.  The thank-you letter that I received from "the head" was just so heartwarming that, as I was reading it, I thought, “I’m not a dork at all!”  It made me feel excuse me, I’m sorry … I know you’re busy and I’m holding up the line …  I just need to find a tissue so undorky that I need to buy this stationery so I can write a thank-you for the thank-you letter note to “the head”.

That wouldn’t be dorky … would it?   

Really?  … oh, man. 



Art Elser said...

I don't think you are dorky at all, Cathy. The heads were very thoughtful, and the best part is that they weren't talking heads, just quiet heads. I know that other head who wrote you the letter, and she really was moved by your thoughtfulness and your wonderful friendship.

I didn't just cross the dorky line, did I??? You should know dorky. Your cubicle is surrounded by dorks, isn't it? Licking rocks is dorky. Wearing suspenders and a belt is dorky. Wearing a pocket protector is dorky.

Not knowing when to shut up is dorky. :-))))

Abby said...

Is dorkiness genetic?

Deb Evert said...

I love 'the heads' - what an awesome thing to do. Nowhere similar to being a dork. Besides - do you happen to know the DEFINITION of 'dork'? Its a whale penis... RIP
Grins and giggles - Deb