Now that I’m working at The College, I’ve realized that college kids make me uncomfortable. I’m not sure why, I think it’s because they remind me of myself at that age. You know how young adults are, spoiled and thinking the world revolves around them and what not. The College is remarkably similar to the college I went to my first year, back when I was spoiled and I thought the world revolved around me.
There was a girl in the office last week that reminded me of the old days. She was a lesbian. I know this because it’s what her t-shirt said. And she was wearing a highlighter pen in her ear where the earring was supposed to be. Or maybe it was a glow stick, I’m not sure and I didn’t want to stare. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian or wearing office supplies in your ears. It’s just that it seemed like she was advertising, you know what I mean?
I used to do that a lot when I was a kid. I didn’t have a lesbian t-shirt, but I was a metalhead, which means that I had really big hair. People thought I was a freak. The more often people regarded me as a freak the bigger my hair got. It was kinda fun, in a sad, pathetic, angsty sort of way.
Oddly enough, when my brother was at the house on Thanksgiving, he found the website of one of the bands I used to stalk back in the day. Just when I was thinking about e-mailing one of my old buds and saying “hey, you’ll never guess who I found on the interwebs,” she called me and let me know about a Facebook group that the old gang had started.
When I say “old gang” I mean a bunch of social misfits who used to pose regularly at the NYC clubs on metal night. Imagine if you can a whole lot of losers wishing desperately that they were in Aerosmith, pretending they were broke and living in the gutter when in reality they all had mansions on Long Island. Oh, and the women who loved them, of course.
Yeah, I know.
Just hearing about these people made my stomach hurt. I began to think about some old friends that I had long since lost touch with, and worse yet boyfriends I wish I never had. My friend and I even talked about one such boyfriend and she was kind enough to remind me of an incident involving a girl that was screwing said boyfriend, and me mailing her a pile of dog crap.
Yeah, I know. I was in a bad place back then.
I don’t want to bore you all in one sitting, so I’ll continue this sad tale tomorrow.
(Every time I try to type “metalhead” I type “meathead” by accident. What does that tell you?)