Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Everybody Hates Me
I was recently and abruptly awakened to the fact that my 27 years in Maine has dulled and left in the dust, my used to be sharp and intuitive knowledge of what was hip. Noah from "KC Bike Commuting" filled me in on this movement that really kicked it into high gear 10 years ago or so. Damn. Guess I am going to have to read less "Field n Stream" and more "Punk Planet Online".
I was just getting used to Doc Martens. Now I find out they have been un-hip for at least a decade now. I just finished wrapping my mind around the concept of Goth, Marilyn Manson and long black trench coats in 100" F summer heat. And in the blink of a year or two, I am now faced with EMO.
Another avenue for angry young folk to show their displeasure with the idea of happiness. Another movement to prove it is indeed possible to be miserable in front of that $1000 computer up in their bedroom covered in Morrissey posters snug in the 4000 sq ft McMansion while Mom picks up their sister from dance class in the Lexus. Life sucks at 15. Doesn't matter what else is going on. It matters squat if we eat with a silver spoon or a plastic one. Life between the ages of 14 and 25 can come off feeling negative no matter what. Some of us need time to hate what we are to become before we get with the program.
Teenage angst. Post pubescent teenage grumpy gusses. Whining punks and punkettes. Used to be they wouldn't let us RocknRoll. Now we are denigrated when we cut ourselves. Seems a kid just can't catch a break. There s no new thing under the Sun. My mom was sure of it. The attitude is timeless. Only the manifestations change.
Judging from the high numbers of foul mood ridden teens found everywhere and in every time, you would think we'd stop whining about the lousy attitudes most kids get when they start growing hair we can't see. But no. It must be an obligation of getting older that we forget our own tough adjustments back in the day. And suddenly, we have never seen such ingrates in all our lives.
I can sure remember moments at 16 when I was sure not one person cared about me, everyone hated me, I wanted to eat some worms. Instead of piercings and tats, I smoked pot and dropped LSD. So when I see a Goth punk, an EMO cripple, or some punk with a huge chip on their shoulder, I know their pain, their piss poor attitude. I have been there myself. I survived in spite of myself. Most likely, they will too.