The Midside is a lifestyle. More specifically, it’s where you live by a certain style–your own.
It exists in between where your only concern is what makes sense. While everyone on the inside and outside scurries about in chaos and panic, you relax with contented merriment.
I’ve been here my whole life. Now I’m inviting you to join me. All I ask is that you honestly and unabashedly be you.
Let’s witness the farce together.
The Midside Origin Story
In order to earn my Bachelors in Writing from Ithaca College, I was required to take a class called Personal Essay that was taught by the stereotype of a burnout hippie–a jaded and know-better pontificator who lectured the class by recounting long meandering tales of his failed marriage and broken family and knew no boundaries when commenting on students’ papers. That semester he informed one girl she should experiment sexually. Considering that he had tenure, her refusal to report him to the administration was probably a wise move.
Besides the ability to remain quiet during the professor’s rants, your grade in the class came down to four papers. The first paper was about love. I don’t remember the topic of the second. By the third, I’d grown frustrated with the “lessons” and the Bs I received so far, so I decided to write inane nonsense to see what would happen. I spewed gibberish about being trapped in a boxing ring between two greenish dwarf-like creatures with pointy ears that would violently impede my progress no matter which corner I bolted toward and then barely edited it. That nonsense resulted in my only A paper that semester.
The topic of the fourth paper was probably our place in the world (or something like that). I didn’t think I had a place. I still don’t really. It doesn’t matter much. I hesitate to define my value and identity in relation to other people. Still, I’m a hard worker and love a good challenge, so I committed to come up with a concept for the essay. What I created was The Midside.
The core of the concept was a statement made by an eighth grade classmate. He told me that it wasn’t that people didn’t want me around, it was that they didn’t care either way. Obviously that quote is paraphrased through over a decade of memory, but the point still resonates. I was neither in or not. I’m still not, and I’m proud of it. What does that say about me? How does it affect what I do? How do I deal with it? Those questions were what the paper was about, and what my life is about. The answers are what I share with you.
Iguess that crazy hippie professor wasn’t so bad after-all. If it weren’t for him, this site might have never happened.
Oh, who am I kidding? That bastard only gave me an A when I wrote about being punched in the face by goblins.
Welcome to The Midside.