Maybe it's the nostalgia, but I remember things being sharper. Sophomore year of high school was all about edgy things, edgy people. I was hanging out with the musician (Alan) and the Hippy (the Dirty Hippy) and the punks (Grant and Eleanor). The first time I met Grant and Eleanor they were sitting in full gear in the green sophomore cafeteria as seniors in a sophomore sanctuary. They were scaring most of the sophomores, no matter how cool and confident those preps thought they were. That was the year I went to the Halloween party at Eleanor's house and was introduced to Bad Religion's American Jesus at Bunny's undeniable contempt that I had never heard the song... That was the year I felt up Alyssa on the pool table and watched Max stick a piece of broccoli up his ass. A Golden Era, right? I think so.

Before I go any further into this entry, know that I am romanticizing this period of my life. As I read over it, I'm trying to remember how I felt at the time, and I think I was really torn. I was partly feeling a sense of adventure (I remember writing a journal entry about how it was "proper" that a teenager start a journal by writing about a halloween party), but I also remember a real sense of melancholy that I wasn't meeting people more like myself, who you'll see I have met now, and I am now bitching about them. So, I know I can't have it every way I want it. That standing, there are some good points in the rest of this entry, so keep reading.

As much as I laugh at myself, and fight with denial as I write this, I belonged with those people, the musician, the hippy, and especially the punks. I didn't act like them or look like any of them, but I enjoyed their company. Their sense of humor made me laugh. They made me feel comfortable, being the normal kid. I wasn't one of them, didn't dress like them and didn't talk like them, but I enjoyed talking to them and being around them. I loved the pissant philosophic arguments Gabe Cember and I got into, before Chris deAlmeida took over his brain. I enjoyed watching the seniors in their element, playing around, ready to be out of there. I really thought they were competent, top shit, at the pinnacle of their game. I still believe that Grant knew what he was doing, but I'm not so sure about the rest of them. Those were the autumn evenings when Rockford nights took place. No drinking. No drugs. No need. They were weird shit all on their own. And they were All Accepting.

All accepting. Many of them didn't notice me, but they recognized my face. We talked like acquaintances, like I belonged to the group. They gave me someplace to eat my lunch (the orgy couches). And more importantly for my development through then, they gave me the confidence to more formally cut ties with Bobby and Teddy. When I had places to go on friday nights that didn't involve Bob and Ted, I never spent any time with them.

That's why I got so angry when Nora said they were more her friends than they were mine. They were mine. She may have known them better, but they accepted me just as much as they accepted her. They accepted almost anyone who would accept them, respect them. I ridiculed their Powerpuff Girls wristwatches, and wasn't fulfilled by the same things that they were (I blame the cartoon network, personally), but I still respected them. The drama they led in their lives was just as real and valid as anyone elses. The ideas and thoughts they put forward over soggy subway sandwiches and pasta with Parmesan cheese that smelled like feet (ok, I pulled a Hannah¹, the subway (TM) didn't come until junior year, but you get the idea) were just as interesting, grounded, and researched as anyone else's I had ever met, if not much more so. Their rituals were strange and new, but somehow welcoming (pixie sticks, anyone?).

It was kind of the same last year at the apartment, with the rituals and the welcoming, but it wasn't quite the same type of friendship. Wednesday was Hump day, and Thursday was Intermittently-Gay Day, phrases were shared (who does that?) and bacon was thumbtacked to the wall, but it wasn't quite the same. The apartment was very very homoerrotic, but besides that it was pretty normal. It wasn't the completely overwhelming lifestyle change that highschool sophomore year was. It wasn't the first time I got out, or went to a real halloween party, or hung out in somebody's basement who I'd never met... And the basement didn't smell nearly as foul as Luke's, and the owner of the basement wasn't proud of the stench.

More importantly, even though I was equally young in relation to the group, there was less of a guardian role. The guys at the apartment (aka the Finest, in honor of Marietta) really take care of me, they look out for me, and I appreciate it and use their help. I regularly ask them questions that I would have figured out the hard way on my own. The punks, however, took me at face value, a little kid who was just trying to find people to fit in with, and they fit me in with them.

I'm not complaining, I'm not whining, I'm really very grateful for The Finest. They've made my time here much more enjoyable, much easier. Nick let me borrow his car to pick Mary up at the airport, numerous times. Eric recommended that I take Mary to a nice hotel for our anniversary. Tom doubled my knowledge of linear algebra in 6 minutes earlier this evening. I'm just saying for myself, figuring out for myself, why I felt more {fresh, in tune, accepted, acknowledged, a comrade, an equal} with the punks. The Finest never quite forget how young I am, and how much longer they've been at UMCP and how many more classes they've taken. It's always there. And it bugs me.

I wish it wasn't. I wish we were all equals. I wish I had a story to tell about where I was when the tornado hit, or when the big riot on frat row tore down the goalposts and triggered the University to spend $27 million on an "Act Like You Know [We're Champions]" marketing campaign.

I do feel equal with my own group, the type of people who come for soiree-K and play cards and hang out. They're either my year or one older, but they don't notice. I'm really putting them together in some ways, I "bring people together like DNA ligase" as Mary said. I have leadership with them. But the soiree-k kids, lindsay and mark and shailee and diana are... well, normal. Very similar to me in my interests. They don't fulfill my diversity requirement. Melissa's the closest thing I've found to a punk, which is really sad.

And to top it off, Melissa's idea of punks are of East Coast punks, which wouldn't fulfill me anyway. East Coast punks are not accepting. WHAT THE FUCK? A punk that's not accepting? I say "I SAY IT SHOULD NOT BE THIS WAY." You people have it all backwards... You make me mad. You are not my kind of punk. My kind of punk is not about hitting people in the pit when they fall down. It's not about knowing more of the underground music ("and how much did you pay for your rock and roll t-shirt, that proves you were there, that you heard about it first?"). You're just as vain as Midwest Punks, and you can be just as snobby sometimes, but if I talk to you, you're supposed to talk to me. You're supposed to look mean, but you're supposed to be approachable. That's what I want! Someone to scare the other little kiddies in the green sophomore lunchroom. Someone approachable, friendly, talkative, geeky, yet still mean, edgy, weird and into strange things that will make me feel like things are a little off kilter and fresh and new. If I go up to punks here I get snuffed. That doesn't make me happy. That confuses me. "Wuh?" That makes me feel like I must've done something wrong, because my punks didn't snub. If you were at a show for a band they liked, you must have some kernel of worth, so they at least gave you the time of day, no matter what you looked like.

Similar to the soiree kids, if just Tom and Hark and I were living together, things would be much quieter, and much more boring. We'd still have people drop by, but not as often, and not as strange. We wouldn't have bacon boxes or holes in the wall or any of the millions of other bad ideas Nick and Eric have thought up together. Tom and I could put together something strange, but there sure wouldn't be trebuchets.

I guess the end of all this ranting is this: I want people who are a little weird, but still approachable. People who enjoy playing card games and going to concerts, people who are welcoming and friendly, maybe even a little set off from the rest of the world. Maybe they'd want to kill themselves with spoons, and maybe they'd be angry enough at themselves to give each other spoons. Maybe they'd use the house they were dogsitting at to sleep with girls from the country genius school when the girls are in town. Maybe they'd stick twenty pennies in their nostrils and convince us that they've been taking lock-picking classes, and maybe they'd go to greasy-spoon restaurants at 2AM (seven people in a dirty compact car) and leave bad tips. (I'm not sure how my punks tipped at all, but I can only imagine). I want fresh new companionship. Not weird guardians. Not comfortable companionship. I know I can't have it. But at least I know what I want.

Of course, I like weird guardians. I like comfortable companionship. But I also like a balance between the two. I feel like I skipped a bit of the "Things are tentative / I'm not quite sure who you guys are" phase and went straight into the "lets hang out and play cards like old friends" phase with them at soirees. Maybe I'll have pixie sticks and punks at the next soiree.

It's alright that things aren't crisp and unsure like they were at the Halloween party. I'm enjoying myself more this way. But I still want an outlet. I was lucky enough to have one all through high school, and I miss it now. It's important enough that a year and a half later I'm still missing it. I want someplace to go where I can be acknowledged and appreciated and welcomed and weirded out and be forced to think "did they really just do that? did I really just do that?" Like pissing on the car in Max's ally with Gabe during truth or dare. Did I really do that? Can I please do that again?

1: "Pulling a Hannah" is remembering history a-chronologically to make the past fit with the way we think it should be. ;)