Highschool of the damned

I suspect that I have unresolved issues with my high school time and I just couldn’t point out exactly what it is. Though over good fifteen years have passed, this still drives me crazy. Guess the teen angst were tattoed on my mind. Forever.

I was reading Dilan and waiting for a sea of memories drowning me in. But nothing washed me over, not a single tingle of how sweet high school was. When I took a break and tried to recalling things, the first thing that come out was Faith No More. What a weirdo, I spent the first year of high school wishing I was home listening to Digging the Grave instead of spending time with real people in white and grey uniforms.

But I remember finally had a good time with the rest of my time in high school. I ended up relating with my classmates, was in a all-girls gank and took a lot of pictures of them. This awkward and gloomy girl molded herself into one supposedly cheerful chick.

But the truth is, I didn’t get it. I didn’t get it why my friends didn’t get it when I talked about Kurt Cobain. Have you heard about pop-culture? I thought MTV was nation-widely aired. There were places where we feel that we fit in nicely, and high school was not one of the few. Maybe it was too homogeneous for my preferences. Or it was me who miss-understood the hormones imbalance with completely misguided role models. We’ve been very much oppressed our sexuality and as I’ve always been a good girl, I thought I did it well.

And the ugly thruth is, most of the time I felt ugly. I didn’t have a positive body image and hijacked my self-esteem with brain and bad-ass-ness. Maybe, I was not really sure what was happening back then but surely I don’t want to feel that way again.


Flash forward to summer vacation of September 2016, the day I finished the Hairstyle of the Damned. This book by Joe Meno is my forever thing and I wouldn’t take it off the shelves unless I would give it to someone who would sincerely cherish it. For the reason that every time I turn the page, I made a peace with myself and whatever happened in my high school year. Yup, the impact was that prominent. It was so weird that Brian Oswald life in Chicago resonated with me who lived thousand miles away, and the more I read the book the more I get my self.
I finally OK-ing my obsession with alternative music. And I also accepted when I decided that pop music is trash and only listened to music with guitar riff in distortion. And the later when I shyly jumped into the punk scene.

That halloween party scene in the book leaves me to ease to admit all we were, teenager in different costumes tried to blend in. Perhaps, if we had halloween party during high-school years, things would be better? Maybe. I stop my what-ifs and contently leave them like that. I understand my self now, as much as I tried to understand everyone who went to school wearing white and blue-ish grey uniforms. Because high school is what it is despite that I didn’t have any boyfriend or hairstyle.

That Rockaway feeling

I can feel it’s ending. That Sundays, when everyone rushed to the beach just because we had unseasonably warm weather in late September, ...