Tuesday, June 24, 2008

As a nearly 19 year old with most of my close friends in other states (let's hear it for summer leadership programs!), I have made some summer plans. 

1) Write a letter to Andrew W.K.
I watched some of Andrew's four hour lecture at NYU on YouTube and have decided that we are going to become best friends. In his lecture, Andrew discusses coincidence, the paradox of partying, the last time he cried, and suddenly bursts out in dance.
Maybe this is me being too optimistic, but I'm under the impression that Andrew W.K. is a nice guy. Aside from his career as an inspirational speaker at colleges, he has also spoken at the opening of a Paul Frank store as well as in opening of last year's Bamboozle festival. As a classically-trained pianist, Andrew chooses to write music about the aforementioned paradox: partying ("Party 'Till You Puke," "Time to Party," "Party Hard," etc). Because of Andrew W.K.'s combination of getting that people need to tear their dress shirts and throw some chairs and the nice needs performed  by Andrew on his MTV2 show "Your Friend, Andrew W.K.," maybe Andrew will write back. He went to the gym with some guy after helping throw out Little Debbys and threw a birthday party for a 30 year old, so why not? 

2) Decide if I'm anti myself having tattoos or not.
I'm sure that anyone reading this knows that the current fad for the 16-30 crowd is tattoos. Thanks to TLC, there are plenty of Kat VonD hopefuls strutting around (they will never look as nice in leather pants) with tattoos that seem like an excuse to get tattoos. I've considered the possibility. I've got a job, I've got asymmetric bangs, is a tat next in line? The only thing I can really think of is KOWABUNGA on the inside of my bottom lip, but the logical part of me reminds myself that such a tattoo would last about six months. Nothing has happened to me that I need to make permanent on my body. I have a mind for that. The only design that I would seriously consider is an anchor, you know, because I'm a tough sailor. The only spots I would consider are my achilles tendon or ribs, both of which sound unnecessarily painful but could be hidden when I actually need to be taken seriously. (this is quickly turning into a mindmap) Couldn't I invest in something else to make friends? 
Sidenote: My recent trip to an amusement park made me decide that I am anti myself having tattoos. Let's be realistic.
It looks like I achieved my goal!

I'm going to go ahead and post this now because I'm running dry and I'm hungry, but maybe I'll come back to it.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

rEbEl sPiRiT!!!!

In order to best clarify what I'm about to say, I need to give some sort of description of my former high school. We'll call it Poncalli because I've heard that my diploma can be taken away for 90 more days. Poncalli High School is all white, all Catholic, and all about itself. And no, we did not have cute uniforms.

Student Favorites:

-Kenny Chesney
-Dave Matthews Band
-Larry the Cable Guy
-trucks. not the kind for skateboards.
-American Eagle
-basketball shorts
-synchronized dancing/clapping/cheering

Administration Favorites:
-busting student parties
-pretending to be your friend but really just ratting you out and suspending you
-mimes at Good Friday services
-khaki Old Navy cargo pants

I think that my previous description gives a pretty accurate representation of what it's like to walk to Poncalli halls. After four years in the Poncalli halls, I can present some valuable high school lessons.

1) Freshman girls will have terrible self esteem.
I've done this and I've seen so many other freshman girls do the same thing. You're in an unfamiliar place surrounded by people who have already passed their "awkward stage," making you all the more uncomfortable. You got a new hair cut just for high school but it's really hard to maintain during the day. Really, you're just trying to fit in. Miraculously, this low self esteem brings about a sort of blurred vision regarding potential mates. People that date freshman girls are either:
-very lucky 8th graders
-25+ years old
-creepy upperclassmen that cannot get a date otherwise
And somehow, these freshman girls are charmed by the wit and finesse of their aforementioned suitors. Now, the same girls will hopefully go a little farther into puberty and realize that their new boyfriends are lame or will just continue to date their boyfriends until their boyfriends go to college, jail, or become underclassmen and the whole romantic notion just fizzles out.
2) You will have to sit by what could be the stupidest person on Earth.
In Poncalli High School and probably every other high school, there is a cornucopia of people that, in this stage of life, are stupid. While the exoskeletons of these creatures vary, most of whom I speak of at Poncalli have fade haircuts, two cubic zirconia earrings, and "dress up" in an Abercrombie polo. This classmate will sit next to you in a class that demands some sort of participation, be that a class about literature or trigonometry (Eliminate the possibilty of calculus. He's not in that class and neither are you.) When such a person does participate in class, he contribues something along the lines of being able to identify a noun or is talking about how much he got laid last weekend (don't believe him). In the everyday world, you may call this person a "bro." I recommend looking up BRORAPE on youtube.
3) Unless you're a bro (see above) or an amazon woman, gym class is terrible.
I'll admit it in the beginning, I am not and never will be athletic. I am the spawn of a triathelete and a runner, but somehow missed out on their genes. For people like me, NORMAL PEOPLE, gym class is torture (especially if your school is poor and you have no air conditioning). The male teacher of your class will be a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen and the female teacher will be better at every sport than you will ever be. The teachers know this. You know this. Tough shit. By the end of the year, I still could not run three laps around the circle in front of the school without walking a little. The male gym teacher asked me if I tried to throw the shotput wrong (because believe me, I did). However I formed tight bonds with my fellow nonatheletes. We long jumped very short distances together. We hopped our high jumps. We struggled through the biannual mile. We watched a bro fart while trying to do more pull ups. Though gym class will make you feel like a total outsider, you'll find a little home amoungst the other outsiders.

4)As much as you might want to burn down your high school at some points, just finish it so that you can look back and laugh.
I would describe my entire high school experience has love/hate. I made some great friends and hated some people. I packed some great lunches and hated the school's mozzerella sticks. I slept in a lot of classes and disrupted others with excess enthusiasm. For as many times as I've wanted to poop in the hallway, I've gone out on the weekend and laughed until I had to scream that I was going to throw up. I doubt that any 8th grader will ever read this, but if one does, just grit your teeth through the hard parts and enjoy the fun that you do have.

Is this when Green Day should play?
No, just Peaches. Loud and in front of the principal.