Page 16 - WTP VOl. V #9

Iam, beyond the shadow of a doubt, supremely (spelling and grammatical errors included for uncool. I carry with me the illusion of coolness authenticity).....
Cool Kids (of Which I am Not)
on account of my occasionally well-placed clever
comebacks, as well as the fact that I’m married
to a cool person, and that I surround myself with
cool people. But, be not mistaken, friends. This
does not make me cool. I do not fit in. I am socially
awkward. I demonstrate strong socially reclusive
tendencies that I believe are the result of some
fairly well-developed insecurities and social anxi-
eties. And let’s not forget that my own biological
system is completely thwarting any attempts at
being able to develop and maintain any kind of Love, Jessica Pickens social prowess on account of some overactive
sweat glands when in the presence of people, and stress-inspired chin acne.
I love love love love love love love love love you Mom.
I have never been cool. Like, ever. For starters, I’ve always been a stickler for the rules. Cool kids
are fine with bending the rules, or even breaking them. Me? I shudder to even entertain the idea
Coolness isn’t just about how you act; it’s equally about how you look and carry yourself. I did
not look cool. In first grade, my mom often cut my hair2 to save money, which made my gender ambiguous. But, by fourth grade, I never wanted to be mistaken as “That nice boy, Jesse” again so
I saved up all my money and took myself down
to Debbie’s Country Cut ‘N Curl3 and got balls-to- the-walls pretty. Eighty-five dollars later, I was looking super foin.4 Several hours later I emerged from the salon with my permed mullet...That’s right. I got a permed mullet. And unfortunately for me, fourth grade was also the year I spent the first half of the year refusing to take off my aqua- blue ski parka, even when the temps rose into the high 90s. Because, you know, demonstrating your heat tolerance gives you wicked street cred.5
Well, what about the second half of the school year, Jessica? Did you make a fashion revival?
of breaking a rule. Even as a small child, I was
all about maintaining and enforcing them with unrelenting fidelity. And God speed if you broke
a rule and I found out, because all consequences were swift, severe, and most certainly without mercy. I once wrote my mom a strongly worded letter at the tender age of seven when my oldest brother, Justin, was supposed to be watching me and my other brother, Jeremy. Justin was not only punishing us for infractions that had absolutely no merit, but he, himself, was in direct violation of pretty much every rule that was established in the household. I took it upon myself to alert my mother to his misconduct, along with recommen- dations regarding future caregivers and caregiver expectations. My mom thought it was hilarious1 and, decades later, had it photocopied and lami- nated. Clearly, she failed to see the significance and urgency of my letter. Perhaps she’s the one who deserves a strongly worded letter. Just sayin’.
2 It was a style I liked to call “I tried.”
3 I assure you this was the actual name of the salon. “Salon” being a loosely used term here.
4 That’s “ ne” with swagger. Wanna know something else? Cool kids
Mom-
I am never haveing Justin babysit me ag ine. He is not nice to me. He dose not follow the rulls. If we brake a full he will get me in trouble. I hate him. I love you so very much and I will never stop loving you. I am not yelling at you, I just think we do not need a babysiter like Jusin. And please wake me up at six. I love you so much.
In case you’re wondering, the letter goes like this don’t usually have to explain their attempts at cool vernacular. So far, this case is pretty much bulletproof.
5 Jesus Christ. Why did no one stage an intervention or something? 1 Seriously, Mom?! Even I can’t believe I was actually ever this uncool.
7
Jessica Morita