30 July, 2006, 428 am
Filed under: School

Actually, I wrote my last post yesterday at about this time, so I’m not cheating and writing 2 posts in one day.  That would be a tad obsessive.

I’ve actually realized that I tend to use my blog slightly differently from most people blogging on this site.  That’s okay, I hope.  I’m not a professional reviewer, and I’m not a political whore and I am not an expert at indie.  Basically, this is a journal away from LiveJournal.  It’s something I take very seriously, hence, I haven’t posted a lot yet.  I just wanted to clarify that.

I am excited for school.  I’m not sure how many other people are, but I am.  I’m ready to be a junior and pass in the circle of high school from a nobody to a 1337 member of the DR community.  Never popular; more admired.  Because I plan to help out freshmen.  And I don’t know if it’s just the Febreeze talking to me, but I’m ready to have good grades.  Like you know how in the Sims 2, the younguns have to do their homework, and this meter pops up above their head and as they do it, the meter fulls up until they’re done?  Yeah, I feel like doing that type of homework.  It all takes the same amount of time, and they never have like projects or field trips or anything.  Absolutely anyone can earn an A+ if they do their homework.  Well, it’s not like that in HCPS.  They push us too hard.  I hate it.  But I want school so badly, I think I might shit my pants if I didn’t have any self control.

30 July, 2006, 402 am
Filed under: Music

This year’s freshmen need help. Serious pop culture extraction. They are typicals at DR. You don’t want to be a typpie here. “Typpie” is brand-name Ralph Lauren Polos, Crocs (I don’t get them), A&F, A&E, Hollister, Vera Bradley, and Q94. While this doesn’t sound bad—Hollister has good deals sometimes—you don’t want to be the typpie here, on account of I’m pretty sure it’s been this way since the 50s, and I’m pretty sure it will always be this way. A certain Z: the male junior poster child of DR. B: the female junior poster child of DR. I can name these people off the top of my head. It’s disgusting. Every typpie wishes they were Z or B in a past life (although that’s not reeeally possible). And everyone else couldn’t care less. Yes, Z is hot and B is gorgeous (kinda). But do I want to date him and be her? No. I want to do my own thing.

The freshmen have no hope yet. And that’s because I have to observe them until I’ve decided I can help them. Let me say first that I’m the sole indie kid in band. How this happened, I don’t know. Before, when I was a sad emo lass, I listened to, you know, those emo bands that some people have heard of but most don’t listen to. And now, I’ve sort of spiraled out of control for a DR student. You know the type. I’m not radical. Like everyone else in this 21st century world, I listen to The Postal Service and Death Cab for Cutie. And I adore Bright Eyes and Rilo Kiley and Jenny Lewis, and The Arcade Fire. I like Stars and I like Tilly and the Wall, and I like The Unicorns and The Elected. At DR, you can just stop at Bright Eyes; they haven’t heard of the rest, and they only like Ben Gibbard’s bands because they think they make them look smarter and more sensitive. They don’t know that Jenny Lewis is from Rilo Kiley; much less that Blake Sennett from The Elected is from RK too. And they think Conor Oberst is dreadfully pathetic. That’s how sad it all is. But when you get to really weird bands like Deerhoof and The Casual Dots (I know what you’re thinking…both on KRS), you can just stop and pack your ass back into yo mother’s womb. This is the
West SYEEEDDE. Which, everyone here is white, and probably at least an inkling racist, so…? I don’t know what that means.

A plan is brewing. Although I know this sounds sad, I plan to get an indie freshman posse. I want them to survive DR and I don’t want them to get eaten up by the serious PacMan of popness. This is not to say, of course, that I intend to have them as my “biffffs.” Ha—psych. I have other friends and I have better things to do. But this is the future of our children we’re talking about. And I’m willing to do anything to save it. I sound like a politician.

So basically, all I can do now is observe and pick out the weak links—the ones searching for something bigger in the world of the same car and the same outfit, hair straightener, and siblings. I know there are some of those kids. I really hope that we get some Moody kids. They would be the best targets for such advertisements. Hey, I was looking for the same thing as a freshman. I just had no guide until sophomore year, and my guide was a grade younger than me and had infinitely more cool and patience. My turn to be a guide.

Once I’ve found a good following (two or three—five tops—is all I can hope for; I wouldn’t want too many), I can take the next move: the music. First, though, I need to make sure this is what they want: the same as what I’ve got. Because I can give it to them. It won’t be exactly the same feeling or vibe or style, but it’ll be in the ballpark. I can’t make them me. Once this is confirmed somehow, I will make them want it. They will lust after it. The music, preferably, considering that I’d rather not date someone that young ever again. This part will be easy. Maybe a little bit of acting. Play the music loudly. Relax. Look happy. Get them into it. Make them listen to it. Not against their will. Let them listen to a thirty-second clip, then snatch it back. Make them yearn for more. Do some research. If they really want it, they’ll go after it on their own.

You know that you can’t be an indie kid wearing Michael Jordan shoes and yellow basketball shorts with a humongous wigger light purple nonmatching tee shirt. Especially if you’re fat. In my opinion, the coolest indie kids are the black ones. They are breaking stereotypes. They’re chouette. It’s not breaking a stereotype, though, for a white person to be a wigger. Everyone’s a wigger nowadays. Just thought I’d throw that in here. Well, after I’ve converted them to the music, the last step I can help them with is the style. And all I can do about that is bringing in the copies of AP and Paste and showing them the pictures they need to see. And then they can complete themselves from there.

The last step, of course, is the mindset; you’re nothing without the mindset. But that’s something only time can bring.

To some, this probably sounds like an ultimate plan to conform conformists to something else. It probably sounds evil and selfish. I have, though, their best interests in mind, and they can turn back at any time. It’s just a shame to stick to the same routine for a whole lifetime and never broaden your horizons and at least see what’s out there. It’s an experience. And I know I would have thoroughly enjoyed it at that age, especially since no upperclassman ever reached out to me. All I hope to get out of this is lack of boredom and satisfaction at the fact that I’ve shared my joy with someone else. Maybe I won’t get either. Maybe I’ll get a friend or two. I don’t know. All I have to do now is just watch and wait. There will be periodical updates on my master plan, so always check back.

25 July, 2006, 748 pm
Filed under: Music

That is to be read as it is sang/squeaked in “Drop Kick the Punks” by The Faint.  Since that’s basically the best way to say those four words.  I mean, unless you’re planning to go all Teen Girl Squad on me, but I doubt Cheerleader or The Ugly One or Whatserface ever said, “WHATTHEFUCKISTHIS?”  It’s too indiechic.

 Oh shit band camp.  PEACE.