Pink and Flashy, Apparently My Style

I hate journal days. Actually, I enjoy writing in them because I have no fear of Ms. Serensky's instant and seldom positive (in my case) feedback, yet I still despise journal days. Last year I felt no such emotion, however due to my pink and flashy notebook, I now dread hearing, "Open up your journals, write today's date, and this will be entry number seven." I remember our assignment on the first day of school to bring in a notebook with a cover that represented us and our personality. Well, as usual, it slipped my mind, and I had to resort to stealing said journal out of my six year old sister's backpack. Needless to say, the tiny drama queen discovered with terror her missing notebook yet I will save the full story for a future time. As I walked to class that day, I planned to present my journal to my honorable writing partner, Lauren, as somewhat of a joke to mask my embarrassment. As always, she took it in stride which did not irk me then as it does now. Why, why did she expect nothing less than for me to bring in a pink notebook with flowers on the front cover? I do not consider myself a very funny kid, and do not believe my classmates perceive me that way either, therefore Lauren could not have foreseen a joke which means she must have simply expected me to bring in something different! Until very recently this event did not bother me, yet over the last 72 hours, nothing else has broached my mind. Time and again the justification has eluded me... Until now. As insensible as this sounds, I believe that people expect me to bring the exact opposite of what I should bring to the table! Let us look at the most current writing partner situation for example, I certainly remember Claire exclaiming with joy when Ms. Serensky set our AP English fates together for she sees me as an intelligent guy. Should not that have a direct correlation with quality of writing partner? So Claire believed. Unfortunately, her expectations and my production do not tend to coincide for I seem to consistently do the exact opposite of what I am expected. Do not get the impression that I think of this as a curse however, for it works positively in the realm of sports for example. If a bystander saw me they would not receive the impression that I am an athlete, although I actually hold my own rather well in the sports world. Come on - a gangly, big-footed kid? Yessir, since I am expected to fail, I strive to succeed. Therefore, after examining these two unrelated fields, I have reached the conclusion that perhaps my pink and girly notebook really DOES represent me well. Since I am expected to do the unexpected, should I fret when someone thinks of me strangely or differently? I feel as though I am the incarnate form of the old saying, "expect the unexpected." Or perhaps, as in "The Balloon," I am simply trying to find significance in an event that yields no deeper meaning whatsoever.