Tuesday, November 02, 2004

I was one of those youngsters who got along really well with my parents’ friends. At dinner parties, I was charming. Cute. As I grew into gawky adolescence, the Cute went away; this trait simply morphed into the unmistakable hallmark of geekiness.

How to get by when you’re a geeky young Pittsburgh adolescent:
  • Impress your mom’s friends by talking about the latest Time magazine cover article.
  • Get beat up on, on regular basis, by Layla Morelli and her gang of big-haired friends
  • Read Sassy magazine to feel better.
  • Let older sister play beautician on your hair, including bleaching platinum
  • When Layla sneers, “Is that your natural hair color?!” mumble “yes.”
  • Become a major Billy Joel fan. Listen again and again to “Streetlife Serenader,” seeking the acute meaning that seems to lie just beneath its surface.
  • Trip and fall onto a manhole-cover on Halloween.
    Come to school next day with crutches. Deny rumor that you’re totally faking.
  • Get mono in April. Miss rest of school-year. Spend your days reading Archie comics given to you by older sister’s friend. Hate Veronica.
  • Go to Mexico with grandma in the summer. Let it change you so that you return the next year, transformed and worldly.

    By the time I hit 15, 16, I’d pretty much grown out of it and spent most of my time packed into a giant diesel station wagon with a hoard of smoking teenagers listening to Morrissey. There is actually a present-day point to my starting off on this, but I don’t have time to get into it now. So that’ll have to wait till my next post.

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