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Dear Miss Maude,
I go to a secondary school where there are cool people, pretty people, and random people—i.e. me and my friends. I am more than happy to be a loon and laugh like a loon at lunch with them. But it appears the cool and pretty people have problems with our randomness. They laugh, murmur, and imitate us when we’re right next to them.
Is there any way we can freely convey our looniness to the world in a way that won’t make us laughingstocks among those non-appreciative people? Or is there a way to actually make people appreciate it?
A Puzzled Loon.
Dear Puzzled Loon, OMG:
Okay, so let me get this straight. You’re perfectly happy being a loon. At the same time, you want the popular crowd to accept you. Well, um, here’s the thing:
You can’t have both.
It’s kind of like that saying about art. “If your parents like it, you know it’s lousy.” Now, substitute “art” with “lunacy,” “parents” with “popular people,” and what do you get?
If popular people like you, you’re a LOUSY LOON.
Or, more to the point: not a loon at all. Seriously. Loons are outsiders. Loons are weirdos. Loons deviate from the norm. If the high school overlords aren’t laughing, well …
You’re just not doing your job.
You want to hear the looniest thing of all? Once you leave high school, pretty much every cool person you meet will insist they weren’t cool in high school. It’s seriously like a badge of pride.
And, in certain circles, a hard-core competitive sport.
Agh! Agh! Do you even SEE these weirdos?
We mortal loons don’t stand a chance!
Xo Miss Maude
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