i wanna be part of the human race.


i am fourteen years old, and i am a freshman at jesuit high school in carmichael, california. i have acne and braces. i put on tetracyclin, a liquid which stings my face, hoping that it will clear up my skin and i can once again rejoin the human race. i put hair gel in my hair, though i don't know why, since i attend an all boys school. i put deodorant on, and it's gelly stuff, and i hate the smell of it. my mom buys it, though, so i just wear it. i hate the way i look, and i hate the way i smell. i smell like i'm trying to be a man, and i clearly am not. as i have already mentioned, i have yet to join the human race.

as i am putting the finishing touches on my perfectly gelled hair, my dad honks the horn. he is ready to leave, and he doesn't want to wait another second for me. i get in the car with my heavy ass bag, and i don't say anything to him. he doesn't say anything the entire ride. he burps a lot, and sometimes, he opens his door so that he can spit. i listen to the radio, and i hate it. it's kwod 106.5 and the jackass djs aren't playing any music. they are just talking about some goddamn nonsense. if they just played music, my life would be better. if my parents just moved somewhere else - somewhere that isn't the shithole that is sacramento - my life would be better.

my dad drops me off. it's raining a little bit, and he tells me to put on my hood. reluctantly, i do it, but just until he is out of sight. then, i take off my hood. if getting wet really will make me sick, then so be it. give me the illness, god. give me whatever i need to take me out of this school, this city. the entrance to our school has been tagged. it reads: jesbians suck cocks! god, how i would love to attend our rival school, rio americano. i would love to be in a school full of girls, full of people who can unanimously agree that my school does, in fact, suck cocks.

i get to our table, where all us asian kids hang out. no one is really saying anything. some are listening to hip hop on their cd players, while others are quietly reading some textbooks. what the fuck are we doing, i want to say. we're in prison, goddamnit! am i the only one sane enough to realize this? i want to cry. i want to jump from the second floor and break both my arms. i want to puke on somebody's face. instead, i pull out my discman, and i listen to ok computer. if it wasn't for this album, i would not have been able to get through the next four years. the album is confirmation that someone else is thinking exactly what i'm thinking: i am utterly alone in this world, and so what? i am too good for it, anyway.

the warning bell rings. i go to my first period class, latin. i was duped into thinking latin would help me on my s.a.t. verbal. i was tricked into thinking that building a solid latin vocabulary would help me learn other languages, maybe even medical terms later, if i were to become a doctor. i am a fool. i sit there, taking in no information, and then the bell rings. it's time for p.e. i go to the smelly gym locker, and i hate my life some more. i change into a nasty jesuit high school t-shirt that i haven't washed all semester, and a small pair of black shorts.

there are boys slapping each other with towels. dax is talking about how he pulled out on some girl, and tommy is telling him he's an idiot because a girl can still get pregnant that way. tony is running around flashing his dick and balls to everyone. he gets up real close to another boy and he shows off his dick and balls. i am horrified. i don't know what to do with this. i should just kill myself, right? how am i supposed to live with this? a group of boys gangs up on a boy named jamal because jamal is slightly effeminate. they push him around and call him faggot. everyday, it's the same. jamal tries to pretend that it doesn't bother him. i am hoping that one day, jamal will kill them. kill them all, jamal. but please, spare me.

after we play basketball, we are told that we have to shower. the showers are not individual stalls, but instead, they are big open spaces, giant squares of yellow tiles, and three shower heads. some of the more modest (see: frightened) boys refuse to strip down completely. we are smart enough to know that our bare asses will get towel-whipped once we leave the showers. i know enough that the jocks will point at my penis and laugh or make some comment that will leave me with some psychological complex for the rest of my life. how do i know this? because they do it to everyone.

having left my boxer shorts on while showering, i am now forced to go through the rest of the day with wet underwear. i sit in my third period global studies class with soaked thighs and a soaked ass. still wet, i sit through my fourth period english class. english is the only class i can tolerate. i like reading to kill a mockingbird. i like pretending that i am somebody else, somewhere else, far, far away. there is a boy named spencer in my class, and he has a girly voice. everyone laughs every time he speaks. kill them, spencer. but remember, spare me.

at lunch, i hang out with the asian gang again at the same bench. they are talking about some local hiphop groups. they assume i don't care, and they are right. i wish i had someone to talk to about the brilliance of ok computer, someone to talk to about a crappy punk show happening next weekend, someone who knows how to play guitar. but there is no one. there is only me, my lunchbag, and the genius that is thom yorke. i suck it up, though. everyone says he hates high school. nobody is actually supposed to like high school.

for fifth period, i sit through theology. at this stage in life, i am convinced that there is no god. for sixth period, i have art history. it's also bullshit. the final bell rings, and it is my only moment of joy i have in my miserable day. it is almost as sweet as the opening riff to "airbag." it is a sign that i can say goodbye (at least for a few hours) to the assholes, the homophobes, the mandatory dress code, the acne and tetracyclin, the sexual repression, the bullshit bravado, the weaklings who are unable to fend for themselves, the teachers who know nothing, the stubborn administration that thrives off their neverending power trips. that final bell might as well be me yelling, "fuck you!" at the top of my goddamn lungs. for the next four years, i have only one thing to look forward to: may 26, 2001. graduation.

my dad picks me up. "how was school?" he asks. "fine," i say. we don't say anything else. he picks up some chinese food, and i eat it, while he watches tv in the bedroom. i go in my room, and i fall asleep. when i wake, it is already dark out.

1 comment:

Naomi said...

that sounds awful. I'm so glad I wasn't a guy in high school.