What is it about pouting and stamping my feet and saying “NO!  I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT!” that feels so good?  Is it that little girl that finally saw through authority–or believed she did–and just insisted she knew more about herself?  Or that natural  growing up part of every human that demands individuality and freedom in a childish way?

Dunno.  Just every once in a while I just want to do something slightly “wrong” or anti-cultural.  Not taking a shower, not brushing my teeth.  Small rebellions that don’t do anyone–me, actually–any good. 

Maybe it’s the addict that just wants to be different, that want’s to not be part of the mainstream living.  Or certainly part of that late-blooming hippie that reveled in dirty jeans, no bra and flagrant “up yours” visual difference (that everyone was doing back then!).

Christ, Mary, Buddha, Mohammed, Isis–all were rebels.  Ah that I could be so different as the same as them.