Everybody In Rebellion

So I promised another piece of writing and you shall receive...for this piece, we originally had to take four "threads," or topics, that were completely unrelated (at least on the surface). I don't remember the specifics, but one had to be a personal thread...and then the other three, perhaps, had to be threads about things that required you to do research (something along those lines).

So the original essay was actually called an "anti-essay" because it was all over the place and completely unrelated and random, basically. I don't believe I have that saved to my CD of shit so, my apologies, you don't get to see that one. However, the revision of the essay, you do get...once we had our anti-essay completed, we had to look at it, etc., and come to a determination as to what all four threads had in common, then write a traditional essay about the common bond, with the threads (any/all of them) as examples and such.

Seemed like a difficult concept, but my common bond (between the history of professional wrestling, my personal experience(s) as an angsty teenager, tattoos, and the invention of the television - I came up with "rebellion" as the bond) came to me rather quickly and led to me producing this essay:

***

Rebellion. One of the most ironic ideas I’ve encountered in life is “rebellion.” Merriam-Webster defines “rebellion” as opposition to one in authority or dominance. Fight the power. Nonconformity. Go against the grain. Be your own person and become a beautiful and unique snowflake.
Rebellion is nothing more than one of the longest-standing trends in the history of the known world. Teenagers disobey. Angry young men fight, drink, and get tattoos. South Park pushes boundaries and professional wrestling pushes buttons. Fight Club topples consumerism. Come to think of it, even Christianity was once a cult.
So how does this work? How does this become a GAP commercial? Everybody in rebellion. How does it even remotely make sense that the grain that we choose to go against – the conformists – seems to be the minority?
I see traces of rebellion everywhere. The preppy girl with the tattoo. The straight-A student with the nose ring. The guy who pierced his nose long before it was cool now has to up the ante, or fall beneath the tide of the mainstream. What’s he do? Well, the only natural thing, of course. He becomes the human pincushion.
I see traces of rebellion in myself. It’s a simple process, really. You zigzag through your memories and you find where it started. A single point in time. That’s all it takes to start a revolution. A personal revolution. But to rebel is to conform, so classify my story. Am I a raucous rebel? Or just your average Joe, doing what they do?
I was in the second grade. I wasn’t wildly popular, but I felt as though I had a niche – I ranked higher than most, in the second grade social caste. Another year older, another year wiser, and I’m suddenly not so cool. They changed, I didn’t. The whole system moved right past me and I remained oblivious. What am I doing wrong? I thought. Such drastic changes in the order didn’t just happen overnight like that. I felt betrayed, but instead of taking the hint, I puppy-dog-eyed it. Hey, pay attention to me! I’m cute, I’m funny, please include me!
Pathetic. I tried everything. But I was the outcast, forsaken by all and at such a tender age, too. Tragic, isn’t it? I wanted people to like me. That’s all. And at some point, I stopped caring. People enjoyed watching me squirm under their harsh eyes – Look at this loser. So I rebelled. I accepted loser. I accepted scrub. I wasn’t an outcast because they said so; I was an outcast because I chose to be.
I fought the system. I refused to talk to people. I sneered instead of smiled. They were the enemy and I swore I’d never be their victim again. Some call this paranoia. I called it power. No longer a victim, I garnered no sympathy.
In professional wrestling, this is what they call a heel turn. No one feels sorry for the asshole.
It felt good being a teenage rebel. Oh, I was pure evil, let me tell you. I listened to rap music like Puff Daddy and his shiny-suit buddy Ma$e! Of course, so did everyone else. Whoa, hang on, what happened? I was the rebel kid, doing the rebel things, with my equally rebellious cousin and uncle. Everybody in rebellion. Somebody’s cashing in on this! Son of a bitch!
Such a sudden turn of events. That’s what they call a swerve. You think you know? Well, you have no idea. No, really, that’s not just some MTV catch phrase.
May 19, 1996 seems so long ago, but on that night – in one single moment, an entire revolution spawned. At a World Wrestling Federation house show, a non-televised event, a real-life group of friends collectively known as The Clique broke character as a send-off to two of its members. In Madison Square Garden, no less, a building considered to be the home of the WWF. Kevin “Diesel” Nash had just lost a cage match to the WWF Champion, Shawn Michaels, when Scott “Razor Ramon” Hall came to the ring, followed by Hunter Hearst-Helmsley. The four men, who were feuding amongst themselves as far as the fans knew, shared hugs and poses in the ring in their final night together as a unit.
Hall and Nash would leave the company, forming a renegade faction in World Championship Wrestling, claiming to still be WWF employees – a “takeover.” In reality, Hall and Nash were now WCW employees, and this was an elaborate angle, or storyline. Helmsley would take the fall for The Clique in the WWF, as his push (being put into higher-profile matches) was put to a stop – he was replaced by “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, a beer-swilling, middle finger-waving redneck. Austin, in turn, coined a catch phrase that made the WWF millions of dollars in merchandising. Helmsley was eventually paired on television with Michaels in another storyline that mirrored reality, as they rebelled against the WWF in an attempt to join their friends (Hall and Nash) in the other company.
One moment. Four friends. It all led to WWF Attitude, the New World Order, Austin 3:16, D-Generation X, and making it cool to rebel everywhere. Ask your friends. Ask them, Who made it cool to point at your crotch yelling out ‘Suck It’? Ask them, Who made it cool to give your boss the finger and call him an asshole? Ask them, Who made it cool to wear a wrestling T-shirt to school? The answers should not surprise you.
Everybody in rebellion. At first, I felt betrayed yet again. It was mainstream to be me. How odd. The feeling of betrayal didn’t last long. In fact, it was quickly replaced by a stronger sense of self. This is who I am. This is who I was. And this is who I will always be, regardless of the mainstream.
I was proud. I felt like I played a part in creating the pandemonium. I lived the role, too, acting as if I was bigger than life itself. My cousin, uncle, and I called ourselves the Fuck Off Posse. Nothing says rebellion like cuss words. Hats that read fuck off. Drive-by middle finger salutes. Acting like damn fools in public just because we could. We were cocky. I had nothing to lose; I didn’t care if people hated me. I’d rather be hated than merely disliked.
Am I nothing more than a conformist in sheep’s clothing? Or is this something that could be considered true rebellion? Does such an idea even exist or is it a fabrication? I don’t know, but in a sense, I don’t care. Whatever you call my experience as a teenager, be it rebellion or be it this trendy and imagined state of rebellion, it played a significant part in making me the man I am today.

***

Yeah, it seems a little over-the-top, but I think that's part of what makes it work. Quite satirical, if you can't pick up on that sense of sarcasm and such throughout. It was a fun essay (both the original and the revision) and I enjoyed writing it.

Also, I actually just found on my CD...I do have the original "anti-essay" which I'll be posting sometime (hopefully soon, in connection with this one).

In conclusion...


Peace, bitches.

Sorry

Oops. My last post said I'd post a story, or an audio post, or some pictures..."in the coming days." However, that last post seems eons ago. Which makes me feel bad, because I felt like I owed you something, and didn't deliver.

I've had two days of classes thus far and this is going to be a busy semester, I think. Lots of work...but it's not necessarily going to be hard work. I have class tomorrow, and then the weekend. WHoO! Go weekends!

Tim and I rented an NCAA X-Box game, I dunno the exact title of the game, but I've owned up on Tim in it, brah. The first game, I was down by three, came down, hit a bucket at the buzzer...I thought it was a three, but my foot was on the line so it was only a two. Tim won.

Since then, I have won 4 straight. =o)

In San Andreas, I have finally returned to Los Santos...I think once I get a chance to play it again, I'm just going to bust out and take over all the territories. I'll just start up in the northwest and work my way southeast. I've also tried to do the Firefighter missions, because being fireproof sounds tempting, especially considering what some of the final missions require. The Firefighter missions, however, suck ass and I can't get past Level 3 or 4 (out of, I believe, 12).

I got a haircut yesterday. You should be proud...the last time I had it cut was May. lol.

I will post some of my writing over the weekend, perhaps, but I just haven't had time to do it this week. Besides the pieces of writing, this weekend I'll also try to do an audio post. Jen may be heading back to California on Sunday, so I/we might try to squeeze some hangin' out in on Friday or Saturday. So I'll get a nice group post or somethin', haha.

Alright, I'm done.