I am proud of this..
I am not an anarchist. I am not an atheist. I am not violent. I am not a danger to you and your family. I am not crazy. I am not on drugs. I am not the scourge of society and I will not be the end of civilization. I am a lot of things with my spike covered motorcycle jacket and plaid pants, but not what the world perceives.
I turned to punk when I found myself with no where else to turn. Before that, I would look out at the sea of faces eating lunch in the cafeteria. Sitting at the corner of the table I would eat quickly, talking hesitantly. And then, I made them laugh. That was an excellent feeling. By the time I realized that my juice was spilling on me, I was too elated to question why they were really laughing. I sat alone from then on and decided to be what I wanted to be; punk.
I dressed the part. For a long time I couldnt explain why I wanted to be seen as different. I am followed by store managers. Girls that once looked through me placidly declining dates, now look at me with distain and derision. Friends of old now roll their eyes and sigh at each new and increasingly ridiculous addition to my wardrobe. When I ride on my 8 foot long chopper bike, some drivers honk and wave and some shout fag at me. Each instance when I am noticed makes something deep inside me smile.
When people ask why I dress the way I do, I tell them I use my clothes as a way of filtering out those who are too close minded to see me for who I really am. This is only half of the truth. My dress is a challenge to everyone to see beyond my exterior to me the person; to see a staunchly loyal potential friend; to see a man who likes to make people laugh. I challenge them to take a chance and come over to talk to me. I waited for a long time. I still am waiting. I dont let it get to me . . . I know who I am. I am an engineering oriented, open minded, chopper bike riding, compassionate to the needy, robot building, politically active person who listens to punk music, and I challenge others to see that in me.
I am not an anarchist. I am not an atheist. I am not violent. I am not a danger to you and your family. I am not crazy. I am not on drugs. I am not the scourge of society and I will not be the end of civilization. I am a lot of things with my spike covered motorcycle jacket and plaid pants, but not what the world perceives.
I turned to punk when I found myself with no where else to turn. Before that, I would look out at the sea of faces eating lunch in the cafeteria. Sitting at the corner of the table I would eat quickly, talking hesitantly. And then, I made them laugh. That was an excellent feeling. By the time I realized that my juice was spilling on me, I was too elated to question why they were really laughing. I sat alone from then on and decided to be what I wanted to be; punk.
I dressed the part. For a long time I couldnt explain why I wanted to be seen as different. I am followed by store managers. Girls that once looked through me placidly declining dates, now look at me with distain and derision. Friends of old now roll their eyes and sigh at each new and increasingly ridiculous addition to my wardrobe. When I ride on my 8 foot long chopper bike, some drivers honk and wave and some shout fag at me. Each instance when I am noticed makes something deep inside me smile.
When people ask why I dress the way I do, I tell them I use my clothes as a way of filtering out those who are too close minded to see me for who I really am. This is only half of the truth. My dress is a challenge to everyone to see beyond my exterior to me the person; to see a staunchly loyal potential friend; to see a man who likes to make people laugh. I challenge them to take a chance and come over to talk to me. I waited for a long time. I still am waiting. I dont let it get to me . . . I know who I am. I am an engineering oriented, open minded, chopper bike riding, compassionate to the needy, robot building, politically active person who listens to punk music, and I challenge others to see that in me.
I've always liked that essay...
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