Two weeks ago, we were issued a challenge. Only one of the five of us met the challenge. I was one of the group who failed, not the one person who succeeded. This has grated on my nerves ever since, because it was the kind of challenge I really should have breezed through. It was tailor-made for me, pun intended. We were supposed to dress up like our characters in the game that we have been playing for more than a month. How did I not do this? Okay, yes, so I was spread too thin, trying to do too many things. A lot of those projects are now either completed or close enough that I can take on something new. I drove down to Boulder today, to the large fabric store (we don't have one of sufficient size here), and with a photo from the internet in hand, I got what I needed to do it right. I refuse to show this in progress. No pictures of the materials. No sketches. Not saying what picture I had on my phone when I found fabric and notions. Not describing colors. I have confidence that most of the people whom I want to surprise with this completed costume will not be reading this column. I don't care. I'm keeping this a secret until it is revealed at our next game night. It's going to be a flurry of activity to get it done in time. I hope it gets done correctly. It's sort of weird, and the materials were sort of expensive. This would have been a good time to own a dress form, to make the piecing together go faster. And just watch if I don't try to wear this to some sort of cosplay event over the next year or more. I'm going to get miles out of this costume.
I have felt particularly aware of my weirdness this week. I have a few people who support my eccentricities, and several people I know who seem vaguely bemused by them all. That doesn't mean I don't feel like the majority of people with whom I interact on a limited basis look at me sideways, like I don't always make sense. When I was running around the fabric store today, or when I was at the pharmacy, prattling on about where I was going next, I really felt like a square peg. If I was still living in the south, I am certain my heart would have been blessed several times over, politely calling me out for being a harmless freak. I'm not as self-conscious about it as I was in my teenage years. I sort of like being unusual in my own way. Don't most of us embrace that which sets us apart?
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