Friday, February 02, 2007


I like to vacillate back and forth between two states of being. State A is having life experiences so overwhelming and terrifying I can’t even process them for weeks if not months. State B is sharing said experience with pretty much anyone who will listen.

After several weeks of State A existence, I am finally coming back around to State B. There is so very much drama to share with you people… but since I’m not out of the woods quite yet, I’ll start with some basics.

I gave myself swoopy bangs. The results were mixed. They look cute but they aren’t exactly what I had in mind. I guess I went a little too subtle with them because I was trying to avoid an encore of Middle School bangs. I’m sure you all remember middle school bangs, yes? A perfect 180 degree circle that ended right above your eyebrows? I had bad ones, but Cowboy Sex Angel’s were legendary. Her bangs were so rigid, she would sometimes store shit in them. Need an extra pencil? Check CSA’s bangs. Sometimes we'd use them to pass notes. They were amazing. Sadly, she eventually grew them out and turned them into a solid field to protect her face from the prying eyes of strangers.

Everyone had bangs back then. Bangs and Spandex as far as the eye could see. I almost felt bad for the boys in Middle School that they had so few options for hairstyle flair. They all just had that same, sad, prepubescent buzz cut thing. The only boy who took a real stand against this was Alabaster. In a sea of Jew-brunette crew cuts, Alabaster opted to rock bleach blond streaks, and what I could only describe as mini bangs.

I remember the day he premiered this look. It was in gym class. He sauntered onto the field with his luscious blonde locks, claiming, “the sun must have lightened my hair", while the rest of the gym class gaped in horror. It was quite a sight.

Ahhh, the scrawny gay kid with bleach blonde hair and the overweight girl with Eddie Munster eyebrows and giant bangs. We were like a pedophiles wet dream. Had there been any cults recruiting in Scarsdale at that time, I imagine them telling their followers to recruit anyone who looks so insecure and confused that they’ll fall for anything, then holding up a picture of Al and me and saying “Yeah, we’re pretty much going for anyone who looks kind of like this.”

Although, now that I think of it, there actually was such a cult. It was called SYF, and guess what? We both joined.

Theoretically, SYF was a group for young people where they could gather and talk about important issues affecting today’s youth. In reality, it was more or less a club for bored rich kids experimenting with sexuality and hair color. Often at the same time.

They held their meetings in a local church on Sunday nights from… maybe 7 to 9? It coincided exactly with a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting that was held in the basement. Coincidence? Well, it worked out pretty well for everyone involved, needless to say.

I loved SYF. Pretty much every week someone would come out. It was at SYF that I met my first “girlfriend”. She was, like, the prettiest girl on earth. We would listen to Bikini Kill together and eat grilled tofu sandwiches. It was good times. Then one day, we disagreed about what constituted a “fun” plan for the weekend… she though Ani DiFrancio concert, I thought meeting up with Bob from the Sex Addicts meeting since his wife was taking the kids to Florida to visit Grandma all weekend.

That’s when she realized she was a “real” lesbian and dumped me for my friend Meghan… and I had to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t a “real” lesbian. I was just “real” bored in Scarsdale.

I guess it was just something I just had to try to realize it wasn’t for me. Kind of like bangs.

(See what I did there? With the tie in back to the initial topic? Yeah, that why I go to Columbia.)