The Professor House is Gonna End Up on Zillow Gone Wild, Ain’t It?

And y’all, I don’t know how I feel about it. 

Cause I’m gonna do some stuff to this house and it’s gonna make me so happy.

And I don’t want to be judged for it.

Here’s just a short list of the things I have googled or asked friends thus far in my house decoration searches:

  • How to create an infinity room?
  • “How do you feel about spending a weekend at The Professor House painting dangerous deep deep see creatures (they can be fictional) onto some vintage wallpaper?”
  • How to mount bubble machine to balcony?
  • What is the normal people way to add glitter to paint?
  • Install disco ball in bathroom
  • Why longitude shaped like an orange slice?
  • How to use fabric as a wall covering?
  • Is it silly to make every single item in our bedroom the exact same shade? Or is it gonna be the immersive experience I’m imagining?
  • Will this yard idea I have for the staircase look ridiculous?
  • Hedgehog cute
  • What sort of things would you see in a camp kitchen?
  • How to hang bats and jellyfish from rafters?
  • How many Nuggets is too many Nuggets?
  • What does a New Orleans bed look like?

Of course, I can’t forget the question I ask literally everyone:

  • Which room should I turn into the Red Room from Twin Peaks? 

And these are just the ones I’m not embarrassed to tell you about. 

So, like I said, I’m pretty sure The Professor House will eventually end up on Zillow Gone Wild or something similar. 

And I’m really conflicted about it. 

On one hand, cool that people are seeing it that won’t get to experience it themselves. Cause this house is gonna be an EXPERIENCE. 

But on the other (MUCH BIGGER IN MY BRAIN) hand, those sites seem so mean-spirited. 

Like they exist to make fun of people doing whatever they fucking want to to their homes. 

And I hate it. 

This has been on my brain a lot lately. 

We, as a society, are so mean and judgemental to other humans. Like, SO MEAN. 

AND FOR WHAT REASON?!

And it’s under the guise of so much things, like “Oh, I’m just poking fun” or “Oh, that’s just how I show my love”.

To that, I ask, why?

Why, to show someone that you love them, do you also have to make them feel bad?

I think there are a few reasons for this. 

Now, please keep in mind that this is just some stuff plucked from my brain based on my own very advanced pattern recognition skills. I’ve not yet done any outside research aside from a lifetime of observation. 

One reason is because the person “poking fun” isn’t yet wholly comfortable with their feelings yet. 

They don’t know how to express their feelings honestly, so they do it under the guise of humor. 

Those kinds of feelings fuck my brain up. 

Let me tell you this story that a ‘normal’ brained person might have forgotten about many years ago and not thought about every single time they consider making a change to their appearance. 

Which is what I do, because I never want to feel these feelings again. 

One day, on the way home from work, I slid into the beauty school that I passed every day, because my hair had been getting unmanageable. Also, if I’m being honest, those folks are learning while they cut, so the pressure to have pointless conversations is much less.

I said, “hey don’t cut off too much and I would like bangs”

Welp, they cut off too much and boy, oh boy, did I get some bangs. 

Like, I think the hair cutting person was very new.

But I also knew that I could go home and fuck with it a little bit and make it presentable at least. 

That evening, if I remember correctly (which my brain rarely does), we were planning to go to a comedy show to see some friends perform (which we often did). 

So I got ready. 

Okay, wait, let’s pause for a second so I can tell you about this cloud.

 

I am sitting here on the outside porch thingie by the pool – which, is closed for the second time this week for “cleaning” which I do not understand because I am the only person I’ve seen in the pool since we’ve been here. And I’m just walking around and re-reading “The Circle” and “The Every” over and over again until it stops becoming truer day by day, so I’m not making any big messes.

And that cloud has been creeping in slowly the whole time. I figured, hey, this is like a Florida cloud and I’m about to get a big burst of rain. 

Welp, this cloud is sitting over my head currently, pumping out a hearty 2 drops per thirty seconds. Over the entirety of the porch. 

The drip drops are fat and juicy and I can watch them slowly fall down and catch them before they hit my laptop or anything else they could damage. 

It is the laziest rain cloud I have ever seen and I’m kind of in love with it. 

It’s kind of magical?

Back to the story… so when I got ready, I kind of leaned into the terribleness of the cut and kind of Disney-Bounded a Jacki-style Chuckie outfit. Red striped shirt, grey overall dress, knee socks and mary janes. 

You know, a Jacki classic. 

And when the fam saw me, I got the Chuckie jokes I was expecting. And I laughed along. Even when I got called out on stage for wearing it, because I expected that. 

I set myself up for that. 

But what I wasn’t expecting was this… years later.

Two of the family members who laughed along with my Chuckie outfit told me on multiple separate occasions when I was talking about what to do with my hair year later, “Oh, just as long as you don’t get that Chuckie cut again. Both ___ and I agree that is the worst haircut you ever had.”

And, yeah, I agree. It was terrible. So why does hearing that hurt so much? 

Well, one, it’s because I’ve heard it more than once from people I love and, two, and I think this feels worse somehow, because hearing this incident referenced years later in this manner makes me feel that, yeah, they leaned into my joke to my face, but then said that mean thing about it behind my back.

And it must have been repeatedly too! Because it got mentioned on separate occasions to me repeatedly. So it feels (in my brain! I am sure this is not the reality of the situation) that they must come back together and talk about this awful haircut all the time. 

So, I guess a lesson I learned is not to make fun of myself, because then other people think it is okay to make fun of me and then my brain gets carried away and builds into something big that it’s not. 

I am honestly very scared to get bangs ever again, though, in case they are the “wrong” bangs. 

But at the same time, I was told all my life that I had to have bangs or something to cover up my massive forehead. 

There’s just no winning with my head, so that is also why I just started cutting it myself on the fly. 

That and the awkward conversations with a stylist (because of me, not them)… I just never know how to be).

But, because I wasn’t comfortable with myself and my appearance and my feelings about my appearance, I made myself into a joke, so I could “prepare” myself for whatever happened. 

I think now if that happened, I’d be like, “Yeah, these bangs are terrible. The person fucked ’em, but they are still learning. I know they are bad. I am unhappy with the results so, please be patient with me while they grow out.”

And maybe I would have saved my brain a lot of nonsense. Because I know it didn’t need to be doing all this. 

My brain always does too much. 

And here’s the other reason why I think these “Zillow Gone Wild” or similar posts like to make other people feel bad. 

Because they like it and are getting in there with the insults before someone else can make them feel bad for liking it. 

Which is a thing I used to do a LOT, because it HURTS so much when someone who is supposed to love and care for you continually makes fun of the things you love. 

So you learn to make fun of them, too. You know, to survive. As self protection. 

And eventually, the feeling of being made fun of for loving something fades a little bit, but it’s overtaken by the glee you feel from being mean with someone else. 

Cause, if we’re being honest, there is a certain kind of glee involved with that sometimes. 

But it’s not one that I want to feel ever again. 

It’s not worth it. 

And I think stepping back from making fun of things people love, or things they don’t know, or mistakes they have made – even strangers, people I’ve never met – I think this has been so helpful in me not giving as much of a fuck about what other people think of me. 

Because I used to judge people so much (for my own dumb, insecure reasons. I am not giving myself a pass or making excuses) I always thought they were judging me, too. 

So, I’m trying my hardest to stop. 

When someone posts a “Darwin Award” winner or “idiot driver”, I stay silent. I’m sure they are beating themselves up enough for whatever mistake they made. They don’t need strangers doing it, too. 

And what are the strangers even getting out of it? A laugh? A little distraction? 

I can point you in the direction of some comedy that doesn’t make humans just going about their lives the punchline.

When someone tries to make fun of an extreme decoration job, I start to bristle, because what the fuck are you gaining from that?

How bad must these folks feel to have people laughing at something they loved? Strangers? Laughing at a design choice they made in the house they fucking live in? 

I was honestly a little nervous to list the Florida house because of this. I mean, we had a hallway that was decoupaged with old VHS covers and a Star Wars bathroom. There was potential. 

For so long, it was a part of our culture to show love and affection through mean-spirited fun and I’m just tired from it. I don’t want to be mean to people I care about (even if it is funny). I don’t want to be mean to strangers that are just doing their best to live their lives. I don’t want to judge people for things outside of their control. I don’t want to judge people for things inside their control either, cause I’m not living their life. I dunno what might have happened in order to get them to that place. 

I used to have a saying (that I’d say mostly to myself, but sometimes others too):

“It’s okay to be mean if it’s funny.”

I don’t believe that anymore. That was before I was comfortable with my feelings (and my boundaries).

Nowadays, though, I try my best to remind myself whenever I fear that I’m being judged by someone – don’t. This still happens to me a lot, like before I share an out there idea with someone. Even though it rarely happens anymore, I’m still terrified that I will be shut down or, worse, laughed at. 

Then, I also remind myself ones judging are the ones with the problems and insecurities. If I’m happy with my choices, I’ma be happy with ’em. 

If people wanna talk behind my back about my choices? Well, I’m gonna tighten their access on my life. Because its mine and I’m gonna do what I want with it. 

I have to do this if my brain’s gonna make anymore progress. 

It’s not serving anyone to hold other people down, make fun of them or judge them just to make yourself feel better. Figure out another way. Look inside. Something. 

There’s enough mean in the world. We don’t need to manufacture it. 

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