Katie 1.0, 2.0?

     I once had an art teacher I was not a fan of-actually, I've had many of those, but this specific teacher taught me something that I have recently found applicable to life. Here we go: a color cannot be determined without comparing it to a neighboring color, juxtaposing it with something that allows the original color to appear altered when compared to it's juxtaposition with another [color]. I am Katie. Sometimes I am sarcastic, sharp, sardonic, maniacal, manic Katie, yet other times I am a carefree, sort-of-ditzy, mildly delirious, frenziedly comical version of said Katie.
     Depending upon who I am around, the version of Katie which I choose to exist as changes. Overly normal people have me showcasing my wild side-why would I ever want to act like another goose in a gaggle of brown geese when I could be the white one with the red spotted mohawk? Besides the fact that I wore red spotted shoes with Balenciaga-esque pants in a print that had my employers thinking twice today at work, who else would want to just be another brown goose? Other times I find myself around groups of people so loud that I find myself wanting to just be freakin'...quiet. On occasion, I like to pull a Lisbeth Salander (which I sort of am anyways) and retreat into a metaphysical fetal armadillo position. This way I can choose to ignore loudly gawking idiots within close proximity to my personal bubble as I put up my mental armadillo shield. When I go home I just act like a baby. I roll around and ask for food and hugs in a baby voice that parentals find themselves quite unable to deny. Moral of the story: babies win always.
     Double sometimes-I recently caught myself even dressing a certain way around different groups of people. Whether it is to intimidate slash (/) frighten some of my quieter friends and family members or simply make a personal statement I know not, but I do notice myself dressing bizarrely when given the chance to exist as a shameless fool around others who might tend to see me as just that. The concomitant ordering of my Doc Marten boots with my platform Superga shoes had a friend of mine wondering if I intended on taking courses in witchcraft while abroad in Europe. After all, I would be closer to Harry Potter himself.
     I do not deign to discuss how such discordance has arisen within my internals, but at least I now know why I develop frequent stomach aches? The ability to see myself as a person separated from the social situations in which I frequently engage is a tricky one. This makes me turn o'philosophehr on myself and ponder questions of who I am and why I am here-ew.