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O’Rourke: She [the character Shoshana] gets to be this true eccentric.
Dunham: She is, and it’s so funny because she’s the strangest and most normal all at once.
O’Rourke: She’s the one who indulges most in certain stereotypes of “girl”-dom, with the girly bedroom and the pink clothes.
Dunham: And I think she does it because she feels like such a weirdo. I think she’s forced herself to have the kind of taste she thinks is “America’s taste” because she internally feels like such a total freak. In a way, she can’t even deal with the idea of external quirkiness because she’s feeling so much turmoil about I’m not like the others. I’m a mutant.
The above are very good sentences. I have often felt this way -- that is, that I have gone out of my way to be outwardly as ostentatiously normal as possible so that nobody will notice exactly how weird I really am. Around junior high school, I was always puzzled by the Goth types who felt that they need torn fishnet stockings and eccentric black clothing to be weird. And, odder still, that they would look around at the Abercrombie-wearing masses and criticize me, as part of it, for non-conformity. As if any of them could have understood how truly weird I was, I would think scornfully to myself. Indeed, even into my third decade of life, I haven't dropped the urge to try to be as surface conformist as possible.
Dunham: And I think she does it because she feels like such a weirdo. I think she’s forced herself to have the kind of taste she thinks is “America’s taste” because she internally feels like such a total freak. In a way, she can’t even deal with the idea of external quirkiness because she’s feeling so much turmoil about I’m not like the others. I’m a mutant.
The above are very good sentences. I have often felt this way -- that is, that I have gone out of my way to be outwardly as ostentatiously normal as possible so that nobody will notice exactly how weird I really am. Around junior high school, I was always puzzled by the Goth types who felt that they need torn fishnet stockings and eccentric black clothing to be weird. And, odder still, that they would look around at the Abercrombie-wearing masses and criticize me, as part of it, for non-conformity. As if any of them could have understood how truly weird I was, I would think scornfully to myself. Indeed, even into my third decade of life, I haven't dropped the urge to try to be as surface conformist as possible.
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