The Right Kind of Cool is Wrong

In grade school it was about having the right label on your bag (Jansport), munching on the right snacks (Pringles, Lays), hanging around with the “cool” people, and listening to the hit singles of the boy bands, Boyzone and Backstreet boys.

During high school, it was more of showing off how brilliant you are by participating in as many co curricular activities as you can; joining the music club, writing for the paper, being an officer of the English club. Also it was about enumerating as many names as you can of boys who officially had, or assumingly had crushes on you.

Independence is more pronounced during college, or so they say. During this time, it was about attending the right kind of parties, drinking the right kind (and amount) of booze, having the same ideals as most of your school mates and yes having lots of money to spend on lazy hours in the mall.

“Coolness”. I was always trying to achieve the right kind of cool. Ever since I learned that there was such a thing as an “in” crowd, I vehemently worked my ass to be integrated. I was trying to imitate people who seem to have achieved “it”. I was trying to like the things they like just so I could be labeled, “cool”.

At some point, I succeeded. And I foolishly convinced myself that I was having fun. In the midst of the boisterous music, the smoke – filled air and the alcohol laden crowd, I was pretending to enjoy. It would seem that I was having the time of my life, but in the quest to find the “right kind of cool”, I lost myself.

I used to think that people would like me because I am a “cool” person. But I have learned that people would like me better if I would be true.

This writing spree was triggered by some lonesomeness I was feeling throughout this week. But no need to elaborate. I just needed to vent.