Friday, July 23, 2010


I remember when I was a kid that there was a distinct group of people that A) were the Cool Kids, and B) thought they were cool.

cool |koōl|
1 of or at a fairly low temperature : it'll be a cool afternoon | the wind kept them cool.
• soothing or refreshing because of its low temperature : a cool drink in the leafy shade | figurative the bathroom was all glass and cool, muted blues.
• (esp. of clothing) keeping one from becoming too hot : wear your cool, comfortable shirts.
• showing no friendliness toward a person or enthusiasm for an idea or project : he gave a cool reception to the suggestion for a research center.
• free from excitement or anxiety : he prided himself on keeping a cool head | she seems cool, calm, and collected.

Some of them were actually cool and some of them tried.  I myself observed.  It was an anomaly to me.  How did these kids, with all their youth, conquer this feet of cool?  Was it hard?  How did they maintain their cool?  This is elementary school I’m talking about.  This is a time where YO! MTV Raps was still on, and girls permed their hair in an effort to be…

Most kids go home from school and with what they've observed in the hallways and in the cafeteria  and ponder and fight for a moment where they themselves could be considered as cool.  Maybe that means they get a new hat on Sunday.  It could mean that they add a new word of slang like “dope” into their vernacular.  Maybe it just means that they hope someone at the table that usually ignores them acknowledges them. 

I wondered what it was like for a while.  I went home every day and thought about why they liked those bands that talked about girls and drinking while I blasted The Monkeys, and Boy George.   Was I Un-Cool?  To them, sure I was.  I was a Red Headed Step Child with a twin sister and a I had two crossed eyes and an odd perspective on reality.  Shit, I was so scared to eat my lunch in the cafeteria that my Spanish teacher let me eat with her every day. 

Then a day came.

It was a school dance.  I was in eighth grade.  I was wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of kaki pants, and I asked Meagan Watts to dance with me during a slow song.  Meagan Watts had the largest breasts in my school, and maybe even still the world.  In my memory they were right out of a Christmas present box that already had a Nintendo, a football, and a gift certificate to my favorite restaurant in it.  They were being held against my chest for a brief moment in time.

I didn’t know what I was doing but everyone else thought I did, and literally that was the moment the cool kids took notice to me.  That next Monday I felt a different vibe in the hallways. Both boys and girls were looking at what I was wearing and coming in the next day wearing similar outfits.  I was asked to ride bikes with kids that had tormented my existence.  I was now sharing pop-tarts with people.  That’s a big one.

All I ever wanted as a kid was a couple good friends.  I would pray for it every night before I went to bed.  I knew and hoped that someone would understand what it was going on inside my head, and love me for it.  I knew I was special, so did God.  He gave me two crossed eyes and exposed a child to things that under normal circumstances would cripple or hinder a person’s understanding.  In retrospect I’ve understood everything all along.

I knew that I was going to have great people around me.  I knew that I was going to slow dance with the most special girl in the room.  I knew I was going to eventually be the one holding the bat while the others sat on the bench and wondered.  I knew my HAIR was fucking unstoppable. 

I knew I was cool.  What do you think? 

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