Date: Tue, 20 Feb 2001 22:47:53 -0800 (PST)
From: 33rhT <33rhT@poem.org>
Subject: A Place Worth Looking

Part I

Needless to say, I was not in the mood for new friends.  I had a bad taste
in my mouth from my old ones, and I was recovering from the most difficult
summer of my life.  It is hard to know where to begin.  I was sick of
abuse.  I had to separate myself from my normal group of friends.  We had
unfortunately become a clique, and anytime friends come in a group,
troubles inside quickly destroy everyone.  My girlfriend had been pushed
into an unwanted "relation" with my best friend.  Well, best might not be
entirely appropriate, but he had been lying to me the entire time and
faking our friendship.  Soon later, he tried to do the same sexual act he
had done to my now ex-girlfriend to me.  I was definitely not a homophobe
(or else this story would not be written) but this guy was an absolute
creep, and I didn't like him, at all.  Well, I was left alone, still
popular, but alone, and it was the most confusing and depressing moment in
life through which I have ever had to live.
	Growing up, my father had left my mother when I was too young to
remember, which he later regretted.  I'm not too sure that I regret it.  My
mother raised me alone, just the two of us.  Unfortunately, raising a child
on one's own isn't the easiest task, and thus, a large amount of
responsibility was put on me to take care of myself; it was through this
experience that I became tenaciously independent.  Well, due to our lives,
my mother and I were never able to be close, neither physically, nor
emotionally. Some would say that I was neglected, but I basically fended
for myself.
	That harsh summer had ended now; I was beginning my sophomore year
of high school, and I had sorted through of few things about myself.  First
and strangest was my approach to religion.  I had been attending church
since I was 6, in later years, attending by myself, my mother staying at
home, or working on a case to be presented to the judge the next day.  I
had always considered myself an agnostic, and I almost had decided not to
go through with my confirmation.  Through the hours I had spent thinking
about whom I was that August, I accidentally cracked through the mystery of
my faith.  I didn't see the deities as beings, but simply as opposite ends
of a spectrum.  Shakespeare noted that every good contains evil, and
vice-versa (well, he stated it a little better).  Well, "God" represents to
me any good that one can find in everything and "the Devil" any bad.  Since
Jesus is always stated to be one of us, he, to me, represents how one as an
individual relates to the spectrum, and the goal of life is to find one's
"Jesus" and to be as good as one can be.  I realize that not all people
would be very thrilled at my personal revelation, but this concept worked
for me, and it did wonders to my personality.  I think that the spirit of
religion is lost in its use, and I feel uncomfortable talking about the
subject, since it has such an underlying separating quality of the knows
and the know-nots.
	Another change was my opinion of sexuality, or my lack thereof.  I
had been waiting for the onslaught of hormones to make me decide whether I
liked boys or girls, but already six years after the commencement puberty
(I was an early bloomer) I decided it wasn't coming.  I just dealt with
people individually on a personal basis, and I could not be sexually
attracted to any specific type.  I wouldn't consider myself as bisexual,
I'm not really inclined to anyone.  I was picky, and not very sexually
frustrated, so the end result was that I was a virgin.  This would always
surprise anyone who found out, because I was a hot topic, and most people
thought I was a little slut!  That was pretty ironic, but sexuality was
getting me more and more trouble.  Just because I wasn't sexually attracted
to anybody didn't mean they weren't attracted to me, and I started noticing
that, while girls had always liked me, a lot of guys began seeming to be a
little attracted to me, even the "straight" ones.
	As for me, I think I fit into many categories, but I never
absolutely belong anywhere.  Someone once told me "You're the yin in the
yang, and then vice-versa as well."  I guess I'm a little hard to
stereotype.  For one I make a terrible nerd.  I am smart, but I hate all
that readin', 'ritin', and 'rithmatic.  Actually, I'm a little rebellious,
and I wasn't a stranger to going to parties and getting in trouble.  I was
responsible, though, and that kept me from falling flat.  The biggest thing
about me was that I was a big clown.  I was always cracking jokes and
smiling. I decided that if I didn't enjoy my own company, no one else
would.  I was the most serious person I knew, though, especially when it
counted.  People always told me everything about them, and I became very
good at listening, and at helping people with their problems.  For the
girls, I just listened and empathized, because I learned the hard way that
they tend not to want answers, just acknowledgement!  Anything that I
lacked to completely fit in, I managed to fake, and boy, was I good!  I'm
pretty masculine, but whenever the guys would get a little too guy- ly
about conquering some girl, I was good at going along with it.  I was also
good at calling their bluffs and making them feel pretty embarrassed!  I
tended to be cool about it, though.
	I went through the new school day uneventfully, working those
political strings of smiles and "hello's" to those who saluted me, I'll
admit, I didn't even know some of the people or their names!  I was nice,
and well-liked, but not exactly a doormat (if I were a woman, I'd get
called a bitch), so I was respected and popular.  I was not in the mood to
meet new people; I didn't want any new obligations.  I drifted through the
boring day, until I went to gym.  I was staking out the crowd to see with
whom I'd sit for the class, and presumably the people with whom I would
stay together in that class for the rest of the year.  Soon, I was sitting
with a group and we were all small-talking about our summers.  As we were
beginning our conversation I suddenly noticed a guy sitting with us, who
had come in with a few friends of mine.  I immediately groaned in my mind,
and I didn't want to have to talk to some jerk.  I think I went through a
five-second bout of conservatism.  The most amazing thing happened, though.
I had said something, a joke, or something, I don't remember, and he smiled
and talked to me directly.
	If this had been a movie, the camera would have zoomed all the way
into his grinning face.  For the first I could faintly remember, someone
had been automatically nice to me, just for being a person.  I'm not too
keen on the concept of love at first sight, but I'll admit that I'm a
little more forgiving about love at first word.  His name was Danny. We
communicated easily, and it was incredibly easy to talk with him. I didn't
have to talk to him; it was with him.  Well, it was now that I actually
looked at him with those eyes, and I couldn't believe I hadn't bothered to
notice something.  He was beautiful!  This seemed awfully cliche to me,
but it was happening.  Now, I'm not into all that sentimental **stuff** so
I don't want this to get corny or anything.  He was 5'10", close to my
height.  He had straight, black hair that drooped into his brown eyes,
which always looked right into one's own.  He had a small cascading nose,
like a small version of Tom Cruise's (that is the image he always brings to
my mind) and this amazingly sculptured face.  The most beautiful thing
about him was his perfect, white smile, and the voice that emanated from
within that could lull one peacefully word for word into a trance.  I
wasn't enamored or anything, but I certainly wanted to be his friend.
	We talked with each other, and got along really well.  The most
amazing thing about him was his innocence.  He had this kindness, this
almost naivete which made it seem as if he had hidden from the cynical
world in a capsule.  He looked at me as if I was worldly as if I could
teach the entire universe to him, though past my scars and my hard persona
I had stayed as innocent as he had.  I don't remember a word of what we
said to each other, and I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't either.  I
think I learned more about him from just keeping the eye contact that we
did for the half-hour I was talking to him than from the words he had said.
I went home that day, and I had realized that I liked him that way.


To be continued.


Sean Malave
Email me at 33rhT@poem.org
I'd love to hear from you.