Notorious Riot

Believe it or not, my life is kind of small. I'm not widely traveled, and for as many times as I've moved in my life (25 times, actually), I've always lived in the same area, give or take 2 miles. My home city is pretty big, but it somehow maintains a small-town feel. I've never been particularly "popular" in the 90210 sense of the word, but any day I step foot out of my house, I run into someone I know. I don't mean most of the time, this is a phenomenon that you can set your watch by. In fact, it has amazed and annoyed many a boyfriend. One in particular used to always say, "Gee, let's see if we can guess how many people you know we'll run into TODAY..." But never mind, he was a dick.

My relative notoriety sprung out of my life in a Catholic grade school where I inspired in others an irrepressible loathing and disgust. I was "big-boned" and my momma was on welfare and I had to drink powdered milk from the food shelf. I wasn't the only reject in my grade, but despite this, I was never out of their scope for more than a couple of hours at a time. My grade school years coincided with the apex of yuppy-ism and the "me generation," brat pack movies, Purple Rain, Max Headroom, and Reagan's trickle-down economic policy. I was the only kid in class not fully outfitted in Bennetton or Guess on no-uniform days. I didn't have Keds. I didn't have an expensive spiral perm. I certainly didn't have any real diamonds or pearls that my daddy gave me for Christmas. Shit, I didn't even have a daddy!

What I did have was a mom who was only sixteen years older than me, pretty hip, and kind of a partier. My theory about why my mom stopped going to conferences is that her appearance twisted the nuns' fire and brimstone panties up in a bunch. I digress. After a couple years, I adjusted to being the center of negative attention and I realized that no matter WHAT I do, I'm going to get spit on or hit, so I just started doing whatever the fuck I wanted.

I wore different earrings in each ear, I cut my hair super short and just let it grow back out all shaggy and tough-looking, like a primordial mullet. I starting riding a neon green BMX. My favorite shirt to wear on weekends was my late grandpa's Air Force mechanic's uniform. I paired it with a string of lavender "pop beads" and jelly shoes. I began blowing off major assignments and talking back to the nuns. Once I was sent to the principal's office and my mom was called because I wore one of her t-shirts to school on a free dress day. But I think the lesson was more for my mom: the shirt said, "My two best friends are Charlie and Jack Daniels" with a huge bottle of whiskey and a guitar on it.

By the end of sixth grade I was kinda starting to be notorious for being a little off my nut--oh, and for being a great artist because I could draw way better then all those rich Catholic bitches, and I could blend pastels like a motherfucker. And what's more, I kinda liked it. When seventh grade rolled around I had received a letter from the Catholic school asking me not to return because my mom didn't pay the tuition, so I went to public school.

I blossomed! Well, after I recovered from mononucleosis...

I talked to anyone and everyone and no one flinched or sneered. Turns out I was fairly normal all along. My shyness and insecurity went straight out the window, but I may have tossed the baby out with the bath water. I discovered HEAVY METAL! Iron Maiden, Ratt, Metallica, Megadeth, Guns 'N' fuckin' Roses!

Now I was known for my huge hair, tight jeans, and black eye makeup. Rumor had it that I was both a slut AND a vampire! If the Catholic school dicks could see me now! What's funny here is that I actually opened up the phone book and called some of them and asked them out. I made them VERY uncomfortable, and I loved it! I laughed my ass off. The scent of others' discomfort became addictive (something I still relish), and I became known as a bully. Who ME? Oh yes, the glaring, the threatening, the posturing while standing behind my 300 pound best gal friend, snickering like only a mean girl can--even better than those snotty lawyers' daughters.

But, alas, senior year was the end of an era. I looked around one day and realized I was one of the only people left in my huge high school still teasing their hair into metal vixen eternity, and I also learned from many verbal confrontations that the rap girls were WAY tougher than me. I suddenly felt really conspicuous.

I faded into post-high-school hippy stoner obscurity and dated a drummer.

Actually, I tired of this phase quickly so I got a job and moved the fuck out of my mom's house at 19. I enrolled in community college and got a pretty cool job in a trendy neighborhood. I started partying with art school kids and musicians, so I was always making the scene. I made about a zillion acquaintances, half of whom I totally alienated when I broke up with the drummer. Then I was only half as cool as I had been; I had badly misjudged how cool this drummer was.

I said to myself, "Damnit! I will be COOL AGAIN!!!" So I kept up on making the scene, except now I was arriving alone and leaving drunk with a new friend in tow--never the same friend twice, though. So, yeah, I was building a reputation for being pathetic and loose.

I nipped that in the bud at twenty-four and started an intense schedule of AA meetings--ninety in ninety days (the poor man's outpatient treatment). I also got a job at a natural foods store. If you want to meet a crapload of awesomely hip creative humanitarians, get a job cashiering or stocking dry goods at the organic store. Anyway, I was in conversation with about 200 people every day, and many of these conversations were continued during run-ins at local coffee shops, the Laundromat, the grocery store, the library, the mall, restaurants, restrooms.

Every date I went on was interrupted at least once. I didn't mind at all because this showed whatever jackass I was out with that people LOVE me, they think I'm awesome, they care how I'm doing and who I'm out with. It showed these guys that I'm not just some lonely pushover chubby chick with big ta-tas.

While I've grown out of a lot of phases, I never really caught on to becoming more refined because I still relish the thought of doing and saying and wearing whatever the fuck I want. I love that anyone who engages me in conversation is going to get the real me, I just put myself right out there. I look around at all the polished professionals downtown, and I can't imagine all the work that goes into grooming, outfitting, and maintenance, not to mention the self-editing and mindless grinning. I'll probably never be the president of anything, but you can bet your ass I'll have a great time!