Fact: Penn is an incubator for weirdos, myself included. I do all kinds of weird stuff. I won’t eat food kept in refrigerators. I have a fondness for men’s clothing despite my 5-foot frame. I prefer to dip my french fries in soft serve ice cream instead of ketchup. I find 4:30 a.m. to be a completely normal bedtime.
All right, so maybe these aren’t the most eccentric qualities a person can have. But think about all of the weird things we collectively take for granted. Three-day weekends are the rule, not the exception. A refilled Poland Spring bottle is an acceptable downtown accessory. And a cracked, oversized button is the most beloved piece of art on campus. Not to mention our predilection for yogurt that’s frozen, soda that’s diet and all things Ben Franklin.
Weird has such a negative connotation, but I for one am all about embracing the weirdness. Weird is, of course, a precursor to cool a lot of the time. Remember when you thought blogging was weird (and creepy, for that matter)? Oh, how times have changed. And skinny jeans? Then: weird, now: cool. Same goes for bangs. And sushi. Weird is just a euphemism for ahead of the curve. Most importantly, it is the opposite of boring — that most uncomplimentary of epithets.
We at Street are all about the weird, the cool, the off-the-beaten-path. We’re here to clue you in, tell you what’s up. And this week we have veered even further toward the unusual. We indecently expose a hippie-filled Rotunda performance (see pg. 3) and infiltrate Pennsylvania's UFO-loving subculture in our feature story (pg. 10). And talking Wawa slushies and Gia salads (pg. 18)? Downright strange.
Yes, we have a penchant for the perverse, a bias for the bizarre. And we know you do, too. So, unicycle guy, go on with your bad self. Hellfire and damnation man in front of Van Pelt, do your thing. We’ll be doing ours.
Keep Penn Weird, Julia
