|Kyle Sandilands (Australian DJ):||I see you guys’ pictures everywhere, are you guys together now? Not together as in lesbians, I’m not talking about “Ellen together” I’m talking about, like you guys are friendly right?|
|Lorde:||What do you mean you’re not talking about “Ellen together”, is there something wrong with lesbians?|
|Kyle:||Oh my god no, I would love that! Are you going to confirm now you’re in a lesbian relationship with her?|
|Lorde:||Don’t even try it. It's not working.|
|Kyle:||I do love her though, we get along well with her. She’s very down to earth, right?|
|Kyle:||Don’t go too overboard explaining the friendship.|
|Lorde:||I won’t, believe me.|
I am apologetic and shy. Incisively indecisive. Between my brain and mouth, prose it filtered down to mere syllables. I’ll leave a situation without warning. I go out of my way to help others because I worry that I might be secretly selfish. I have absolutely no fear of death. I fear failure. Hurting the people around me. I cry a lot but I laugh a lot more. When life is wonderful I have to stop to catch my breath. I place it in a glass jar in the back of my mind. I like when everything suddenly changes. I think bilingual people people make for the best dancers. I don’t need anyone’s approval but I seek it anyway.
Does any of this make me original, or hopelessly ordinary? Which answer would make me happier?
I struggle with the idea of uniqueness. Originality. Individuality. By philosophy I tend to not think of myself as better than anyone else. That my problems matter more. That I have a monopoly on sincerity. No. In order to love the world around me, I have to love all of it. These other human beings everywhere are marvelous. Every emotion, every agony, every joy. It all matters. I’m just not sure where I figure into the equation.
Yet I mostly admire people who are nothing like me. The bold. The brash. The endlessly original. People who have overcome adversity. The ones who make a real difference. People who have absolutely no use for my approval. They inspire me.
I still cannot pinpoint my exact feelings on this topic, but it feels good to write them down. To reflect.
It was Fitzgerald who said “That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”
I think we’re all caught in a battle between trying to belong, and finding uniqueness.
A study on masculinity and aggression from the University of South Florida found that innocuous – yet feminine – tasks could produce profound anxiety in men. As part of the study, a group of men were asked to perform a stereotypically feminine act – braiding hair in this case - while a control group braided rope. Following the act, the men were given the option to either solve a puzzle or punch a heavy bag. Not surprisingly, the men who performed the task that threatened their masculinity were far more likely to punch the bag; again, violence serving as a way to reestablish their masculine identity. A follow-up had both groups punch the bag after braiding either hair or rope; the men who braided the hair punched the bag much harder. A third experiment, all the participants braided hair, but were split into two groups: those who got to punch the bag afterwards and those who didn’t. The men who were prevented from punching the bag started to show acute signs of anxiety and distress from not being able to reconfirm their masculinity.
A very young Harry Styles with his former band White Eskimo singing Summer of ‘69
i remember when Simon said Harry was the one that chose for the boys to sing Summer of ‘69 on X Factor. This explains why.