I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have been cool and hot
Than never to have been cool at all.
I used to be cool. In Jr. High my eye shadow was the bluest of blue. My hair: feathered perfection. I rocked the Levi's 501's and fringed moccasins like Stevie Nicks. In High School, I was the girl at the pool with Sun-In in my hair and baby oil slathered all over my already too tan legs. I drove a VW Bug and worked at the mall. Totally cool.
Now I am not so cool. The cool bus left the station without me. When you have to tell people that you were cool, that means you are not cool anymore. Now I am more quirky than cool. My eccentricities are not as trendsetting as they once were. There are days that I could blend seamlessly into a crowd of soccer moms (Or mental patients on a day pass, depending on my mood).
The truth is I have always been a dork. My cool chick persona was crafted to cover my dork-like tendencies. At thirteen, I was reading Sylvia Plath and writing angst-filled poetry in my diary. I even called it a diary and addressed each entry as such. Dorky.
The cassette player in my VW blasted Mötley Crüe at ear piercing decibels, but at home, I preferred Broadway musical soundtracks. I listened to NPR and watched Jeopardy after school. Really dorky.
Now that I am old and exhausted I have decided to give up the cool facade altogether. As of today, I am letting my dork flag fly. I am publicly admitting that I look for comfort before beauty when it comes to all things fashion. I own hair scrunchies and I do not remove them after I wash my face. I still sing show tunes (usually only in the kitchen after several cocktails, but still) the number one station programmed into my car radio is NPR. I do not own an I-pod. I do not have a Myspace or Facebook page. I do have a profile on twitter but I am not sure what the hell it is for. Who cares what I am doing right now? I am a dork.
When naps and houndstooth are in style I will be cool again.
Now I am not so cool. The cool bus left the station without me. When you have to tell people that you were cool, that means you are not cool anymore. Now I am more quirky than cool. My eccentricities are not as trendsetting as they once were. There are days that I could blend seamlessly into a crowd of soccer moms (Or mental patients on a day pass, depending on my mood).
The truth is I have always been a dork. My cool chick persona was crafted to cover my dork-like tendencies. At thirteen, I was reading Sylvia Plath and writing angst-filled poetry in my diary. I even called it a diary and addressed each entry as such. Dorky.
The cassette player in my VW blasted Mötley Crüe at ear piercing decibels, but at home, I preferred Broadway musical soundtracks. I listened to NPR and watched Jeopardy after school. Really dorky.
Now that I am old and exhausted I have decided to give up the cool facade altogether. As of today, I am letting my dork flag fly. I am publicly admitting that I look for comfort before beauty when it comes to all things fashion. I own hair scrunchies and I do not remove them after I wash my face. I still sing show tunes (usually only in the kitchen after several cocktails, but still) the number one station programmed into my car radio is NPR. I do not own an I-pod. I do not have a Myspace or Facebook page. I do have a profile on twitter but I am not sure what the hell it is for. Who cares what I am doing right now? I am a dork.
When naps and houndstooth are in style I will be cool again.
Out-T.
image:kittyradio.com
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