Punk kids, are hypocrites.

Punk kids think they are so anti-establishment when they go out of their way to shop at Thrift Stores, buy Vans shoes, and support anything that claims to be “anti.” Dye their hair blue, green, or pink, with dyes that are made by the very corporations that they are so “anti” about. Do they realize that this is “Fashion,” and they are just as bad as the kids who shop at the Gap? Probably worse bearing in mind they go out of their way to dress the way they do. Sorting, shifting, and searching through the masses of clothes on the racks of the Thrift store just to find something that looks good, yes, "looks good," they too have a fashion sense, just like the remainder of the world, but they'll never let you know that.

Geniuses probably invented this fashion. They knew they’d make money. They probably thought "Rebels have money. I bet if we make them feel like a bigger rebel, they’ll pay us for it."

The music business picked up on it too. They figured they'd have bands write songs that preach anti-conformity and sing it to music that is about as conformist as you can possibly get, and bam, a hit single. [“Fat Lip” – Sum 41; playing an average, run of the mill, made-for-the-radio punk song, and singing about not conforming. Colossal contradiction. Did any of these kids notice? Nah, too busy being caught up in being anti.]

They make fun of people who shop at stores like Abercrombie [who’s stock price is 36 points], but you can catch them in stores like Hot Topic [which had stock prices as high as 38 points]. Corporation? I think so. Corporation they are allegedly in opposition to? I think so, again.

They lay emphasis on having an open mind about everything, yet they only dress a certain way, hang out with certain people, and they only listen to one style of music, a brand of music that is about as culturally narrow as it could possibly get.

They hate sharing their music with other people, because they hate anything that is trendy and turn against anything that becomes mainstream. They want it to themselves, no matter how bad it sucks.

These nonconformists are actually conformists. They are sheep and have no idea.

"History tricks you into not valuing what you have now. History's dead, but right now is alive. History is jealous of right now—jealous of that life." - Douglas Coupland

The word “TAKEN” is being broadcast across my forehead twenty-four hours a day seven days a week, backwards of course, so every time I look in the mirror it all becomes clear to me and I start to cringe. It is not all that bad having a partner. I just think that right now, I do not need it in my life. Now don't be mistaken, there is nothing wrong with my current girlfriend besides the flaws that she—along with everyone else—has. However, I need my freedom, space to use how I wish. There are things I want to explore, and discover that I cannot do while having a girlfriend, there is just no room for it. I want to date different people, see what I like, what I do not like, what I am looking for, and what I am not looking for.

Every time somebody of the opposite sex looks at me, I feel as though they see this gigantic glowing fluorescent-lighted billboard perched over my head like a bird on a limb that says “STAY AWAY! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND.” If only I could find the plug so I could pull it and turn out the lights. Do you have any idea how creepy it feels walking around with a billboard floating above your head? Or how much I sometimes wish that the sign would just say, “TALK TO ME, I’M LONELY,” instead.

So why do I stay? Am I scared no one else will love me, of not being accepted, or of not being found attractive? Am I just frightened of change? To be honest, I do not know. I have deliberated countless hours—probably too many—on these very questions. Trying to figure out what the hell I am doing, why I am doing it and when will it all end, or not end. All of this contemplating, only to fall short in finding the answer I am looking for.

I hope it comes. Soon.

My five minute attempt at cool poetry. This is my entire summer in a nutshell [with a few exceptions]. I tried rhyming as much as possible because it's really kind of annoying. This is not intended to be at all serious, but just read it... you might actually like it.

BOREDUMB

ByMe.

Here I sit, extremely bored
Bored to death and almost to tears
Playing the same old chord
Transferring it into the soundboard
Piecing together what I am about to record

I am barely alive. Did I say alive?
I meant bored.
Banging on the dashboard
Of my friends golden ninety-four Accord
To the sound of an already old new record.

Another round of Snood,
I am thinking, “Damn, I’m hungry dude,
I think I need to eat some more food.”
Standing up until finally from my chair I come unglued

Will somebody please help me out
My lives a little washed out
And my hair is just a little whacked out
I really wish someone would come bail me out

Might just be that I am spaced too far out
And doubt I’ll ever come back out of my house
At this point, there is no point in busting me out
Maybe next summer we will hang out

This summer has been a major, major problem
It wasn't at all full of excitement and mayhem
To hell with having fun and to hell with carpe diem
I'm gonna write a super stupid, silly, poem

The end of summer sucks
Not a place in sight for me to run amok
I mean, seriously, what the fuck?
This really is starting to suck.
Sadly enough…
I can't wait for school to start again.

“If I could choose to start it over, I’d exercise more discretion.” - Midtown

My parents typically would jump all over every opportunity to support me, but when it comes to music, it is quite the contrary. For about two years, I would beg my parents to get me my first guitar—I had this strange urge to play music—and every time Christmas or my birthday came around, there was no guitar to be seen. My mom had a rather inaccurate hunch that I would never use it and it would be a complete waste of money. If only she knew how bad I wanted this. By this time, she should have noticed my fixation and fascination with music, but she could not, she only sees what she wants to see.

After months of negotiations and pleading to my parents that it would not be a waste, the time had come, Christmas had come, and there was my first guitar. Unwrapping the package as though I was going to find the Excalibur or I was unveiling, for the first time, the tomb of King Tut, and saw it... my first guitar. Like most people starting out, I plain sucked. However, I kept it up, and never put it down. Now it is almost a part of me.

The guitar was in my hands, and I felt like everything was okay, but it was not. Since I gotten my guitar, my parents have held me back, not from getting a guitar, but from starting that band I have always wanted, never encouraging me to take voice lessons, or by stomping on my hopes of pursuing guitar further and maybe even taking lessons, even after asking them numerous times to help me out.

Talk about disappointment; I assumed my parents would have wanted to me to experience these things pushed me in the right direction, all they have managed to do is set up roadblocks, and hurdles; one of these days, I will show them what I am made of. I regret not revolting against what my parents said and starting that band, I repent not taking the incentive and going out and getting voice lessons, and I am infuriated that I did not jump all over every opportunity I had to get myself going. If only I knew about what life would be like now…Carpe Diem.

Any day now, I am bound to explode all over the place, spontaneously combust, or just plain die. For years now I have been watching bands grow, and get big, sprouting up like weeds in my backyard. For years now, I have been going to shows and watching people do what I want to do be doing. The past couple of weeks have been really making everything clear; how bad I want to be in a band, on stage, playing shows, and living that kind of "rock 'n' roll" lifestyle.

I cannot even watch MTV anymore without cringing with haste and knowing that I can write songs just as good, if not better than a lot of those bands. I cannot go to shows without saying to myself, “Why am I not up there?” My life consists of me talking about how I want to do this and start this band, me attempting to start this band, and the band never coming together.

I am consistently trying to break this cycle I keep my eyes open everywhere I go and the pieces just have not fit together, or pieces are missing altogether. It is a discouraging set of circumstances to overcome and it is hard to keep my head up sometimes. I just need this in my life, its something that I virtually cannot exist without, like caffeine and girls.

Now, I am closer than ever to actually having it all come together, but it is still not definite. I need that concrete, to be set in stone for me have it as mine, to assure me that its there. I need to be in a rehearsal studio writing songs, being productive, and having the time of my life.

Withdraw—which is what I am going through at this very moment—from the rush of being on stage, and having all eyes on you. Yes, I know it is almost self-absorbed, but it is a sensation that I cannot illustrate, an experience that can only be perceived once you've had it, like a drug, its addicting. I want to make music for people to enjoy, to make people want more, and to give people the feeling that music gives me. I want to feel on top of the world. I want it, right now.

Whoa! A girl that I have known forever, about made me go crazy today. We were chatting at work, and I was like “So, what’s up?” She tells me the usual “nothing really” bullshit. She was reading her schedule and I happened to notice that she took the next week of work off and she started telling me all about this trip to New York she is going on. Somehow—I do not recall how exactly—she told me that she had just had surgery two weeks ago. I was like “Damn that sucks. What happened?” thinking she got her tonsils out or knee surgery or something legitimate. However, she pulls her shirt tightly to her breasts, in this revealing sexy innocent flirtatious way, and says straight up “That.” Holy shit, she got breast implants! My jaw dropped to the floor and I virtually passed out right then and there. How come girls like that don’t like me? Dear lord, the man she dates must feel blessed.

She went on about how she felt awkward with them at first, thinking they weren’t proportional to her body, and now she thinks they are the greatest things—I must confess, I do very well agree.

Other than that five minute conversation, work really sucked bad—and let me tell what a conversation like that can do for a shitty day at work. The managers yelled us—all the bus boys—because we all pretty much slacked off the whole time. Yelling at us did not help the situation at hand, it just made us slack even more. I swear the management at my place of employment comprises of some of the dumbest people I have ever met. The restaurant is a completely confused chaotic catastrophe, everything that can go wrong, does go wrong. It is amazing that people even come to the restaurant—and boy do they come, in large numbers—thats how bad it can get.

I guess its true: once you work somewhere, you never look at it the same ever again.