Two successive stops on the sliding scale of Southern eccentricity, curious and peculiar, were once heard rather often in the Southland. Today, with TV’s pervasive influence and the second Yankee invasion, about all one hears is “weird,” which is a broader, less descriptive, and far less colorful word than the two first mentioned.
“Peculiar” is the stronger of the two words, and probably comes the closest to today’s “weird.” Your compiler can still hear his late paternal grandmother saying about a particularly offbeat member of a right eccentric clan, whom for this purpose he will call the Dullard family, “All those Dullards are right curious, but that boy of theirs, Dunce, is downright peculiar.” (As if he could help it with a name like Dunce Dullard, but unfortunately that part is fictional.)
As for “curious,” it is okay to be considered “curious” in the South. In fact, it comes close to being a badge of honor., and to be perfectly candid, most native Southerners are probably at least a tad curious. To paraphrase something your compiler saw recently on social media, we do not hide “curious” in the South; we parade it out onto the front porch and give it a cocktail! In other words, we cherish our eccentrics and the most lovable of them tend to fall in the “curious” basket. “Weird” is simply too strong a word for these folks, and is liable to get one cut.
“Peculiar,” though, is almost always on the other side of the “curious” line – a continental divide, if you will. Someone who is peculiar has so flaunted or outright ignored the rules of polite society or commonly-accepted likes and behaviors that folks tend to keep their distance. The brand and degree of peculiarity tends to govern whether the withdrawal is a shying away or a downright shunning, but folks who are peculiar have taken good old Southern eccentricity anywhere from a bit too far, to way out of line, and have thus made spectacles of themselves.
Be aware, though, that someone who is overall “curious,” and therefore okay, might have some “peculiar” tendencies, but not enough to make himself or herself peculiar on a grand scale. Your compiler might be considered a decent example of this distinction himself. He would rather eat a big squishy bug than a strawberry (but has zero desire to eat either one, mind you.) He can hear the cooks and food preparers and -presenters in his family over the years say, “You old peculiar thing! I can’t imagine anyone not liking strawberries.” But apparently (and hopefully) that peculiar tendency of your compiler’s is not sufficient to cast him out of the classification most Southerners find themselves in, which of course is “curious.”
Such is your compiler’s take on these two words, which are ever more descriptive than today’s generic “weird.”