[Note: This is best read while listening to Aerosmith's "Sweet Emotion."]
I don't think about high school much anymore. The older I get, the less I remember. Dazed and Confused brings back a lot, though.
Dazed and Confused is a coming-of-age film that takes place on the last day of school in 1976 and over the subsequent weekend of parties, traditions, and segues into summer vacation and temporary freedom. Director Richard Linklater spun a little character piece using stories from his own high school life and those of people he knew, and in doing so, he created this universal, affectionate, nostalgic film that makes me want to go back and visit good old Delta High School in Muncie, Indiana. Go Eagles.
Dazed and Confused has no real plot, and neither does adolescence. High school is one big ensemble character drama. The people and times may change, but high school really doesn't. There are moments we'll remember forever, and some we'd rather forget.
This is starting to sound like a valedictorian's speech, and nobody listens to those. Wanna hear some stories?
When I was a freshman, I sat in front of a senior in my Algebra class. Her name was Yvette, and she was beautiful — dark hair, brown eyes, big smile. I had no chance. I still spent most of my time turned around, talking to her. Maybe because I knew I had no chance, I felt more comfortable with her. By the end of the year, she'd offered to go out with me.
Never happened though. No car.
She graduated and I never saw her again. But that's just as well.
I also met this girl named Jennifer, and she became my designated partner at school dances. We even went out a time or two, but that was that. I used to go home and night and think...maybe. Maybe what? I have no idea. I didn't know anything about girls. I'm not sure I do now. She's out in California now.
My junior prom date ditched me for another guy. Actually that's happened to me four times, and the details all run together now. Love hurts, love scars, blah blah blah. Bitches, man.
We're talking about a former life here. I was skinny and awkward; I had huge glasses; I had overprotective, controlling parents; we didn't have money; I had no car; I had no job; I never went to many parties; I never drank much, and I never touched drugs. I was a social pariah.
I got through because, miraculously, I found people who were pretty much the same as me. We were the biggest bunch of dorks in the school. One guy was a white rapper/DJ, another was a skateboarding rapper, another liked computers a little too much and designed his own shirts with condoms pinned to them, and then there was me, wearing an R.E.M. Out of Time t-shirt and light jeans all the time. Gargantuan glasses. Swoofy hair. Striking.
Then I took a public speaking class. Nobody liked that class. The speeches were boring and painful. One day, I decided, screw it, I hate this class, everybody hates this class, and I'm not really fond of this teacher trying to stifle everybody's creativity with his conservative horseshit. I decided to make every speech a huge joke. I started writing comic monologues.
Within a few weeks, I was John the Funny Guy, and people were talking to me and about me: "Oh, you missed it, it was awesome" kind of conversations. People didn't care if I didn't drink or do anything illegal on the weekends. The jester gets a free pass. I got over my fear of public speaking by making people laugh, and I fit in better after that. What's more, I got a good grade in the class, even though the teacher never really liked me much.
I worked for the high school radio station, did the morning announcements over the PA system, and generally made mayhem in my own little subversive way. We used to play Tom Petty's "Learning to Fly" on the air and add our own bird chirps over live mics. I made weird promos to play between songs. I once changed the masthead of the school newspaper from "A Public Forum for Student Expression" to "A Public Forum for Student Oppression." No one seemed to notice. My theory now is that this shit did not matter at all, but in my snow globe world then, this shit was everything. This was all I had. This sense of belonging made me want to go to school, so I could do something else.
I wrote a haiku that some of my classmates STILL recite verbatim when they see me:
The Unsuspecting Race Fan
I sat in turn four
Not expecting any wrecks
Now I am on fire.
By my senior year, I was king shit, just like the seniors when I was a freshman.
Unfortunately, I never did anything as cool as this, a shot-for-shot remake of the opening sequence (jump to 0:35) of Dazed and Confused, set in a real high school.
Thankfully, high school was not the high point of my life. I got to college, turned 21, had a beer, and loosened up.
Several years later, I ended up working in the same place with this guy from high school. He told me he always wanted to punch me in the mouth because I was such a smartass, always jabbering, saying dumb shit, trying to make fun of people. I sort of wish he'd followed through, because looking back, I probably deserved it.
I have my regrets. I can't tell you everything.
So what does Dazed and Confused bring back for you?
I could go on with stories as you did and did not, but I will not repeat a similar 'dork turned into a somewhat known guy' story. You people are welcome.
ReplyDeleteHowever, from the movie I can relate to alcohol bringing everyone together. When collected as a varied series of younger minds learning what all we could get away with, marks were made while laughter held us together. I will never regret anything I have done, but I do know that dumb decisions have been made and learned from, never to be repeated.
Certainly many will agree with this statement; I wish I would have explored many more crazy things when I was that age, because that was the only time in my life I was 'invincible'. Depending on the results I may not really wish that, but it does sound ideal.
I had those dreams I fell 'in love' with, of whom never considered me as a life partner; or so I assumed. Looking back now, they were the ones who defined what it is I am still physically attracted to; deep brunette hair, soft hæsel eyes, slim, firm body... Especially the one running in front of me on the track in gym class, my freshman year. Her physique was ever so defined; solid calf muscles firmly tightened with every step. Yeah seriously, that is what I remember most about her.
Alright, the stories started. I am done.
What does Dazed and Confused bring back for me?
ReplyDeleteI hung out with some of those guys. The bold ones, the ones who did what they wanted, said what they wanted, acted like they were above it all, and in charge of it all at the same time. They always seemed to avoid any repercussions for their actions. Girls stood in line to date them, knowing that they wouldn’t get treated particularly well.
I watched their behavior, clinically at times, but did not take part. Repercussions were too big a part of my upbringing. They were my friends, lots of fun, and at the same time hard on my own ego. I was the one who pulled them out of trouble, or actually got in trouble for THEIR errors in judgment.
Younger guy, older girl – it happened. The shyness that was not on display when it didn’t matter, kept it from happening more. I never was READY, never prepared for the opportunity when it presented itself. Oh the things I could have learned from them, the different person I would have become as a result of those dalliances. My first couple years of college would likely have been very different…
Hanging out, killing time, ending up at places, shooting pool, playing video games, out of default. Those places were packed with people without a better plan.
Partying in the woods, because there were lots of woods where I lived, and no neighbors, and simply no place else to do it.
I'm really enjoying this.
ReplyDeleteI've been thinking about it off and on for the past two days since I read this entry trying to articulate the lasting impression and spirit Dazed and Confused imparted to me.
I'm a child of the 80's through mid 90's, but my social clique was pretty much the same, only, the teenagers of the 70's seemed more developed than the teenagers of the following decades. When I was 8 years old around 1980, my neighbors and his friends were fresh out of high school and they had beards, worked on cars, and knew their way around a six pack of beer-- without the giggles in the sense that they were doing something that they shouldn't be doing.
But in High School, we owned the school until the gangbangers eventually crept in adding an element to the social structure that seemed unearned and unnatural. The gangbangers were an end to the innocence of it all, in a way.
But we partied, man. Like Dazed and Confused- squared. We piled into cars, squeezing a record 16 people into a 4 door Ford LTD at one time, wagon-training everywhere, and we were wild. Locally nomadic and carefree. We were bad boys and nice guys, good girls gone bad, nerds and goody-goodies, all sharing the same fire in the woods for a few years there.
I was lucky. I dated a few of the most sought after girls in the history of genuinely "cool chicks" throughout my early and late teens. It sure as hell wasn't my good looks, acne scars, pale white skin, and very average physique. But maybe it was my sensitivity and sincerity coupled with my primal howl of an old soul.
I don't know. Still don't. But I've still got it like that with a steady, genuinely cool chick.
But I couldn't stand the ritual hazing of the weak, or the assholes who reveled in it. Dazed and Confused reminds me of how much I really hated all that and avoided it.
I'm thankful that I didn't have to sell out to that bullshit to fit in anywhere. I've always stood up to the bullies and the jerkoffs who used their muscles and numb skulls to humiliate and ostracize. I've gotten my face beat in a few times for my righteous interventions and never regretted it for a moment.
I've lost too many Dazed and Confused-like friends and acquaintances over the past decade through freak accidents, suicides, and foul play. It's crazy that I made it this far considering all the recklessness and near-hits, or comparing my humble path to those that didn't make for whatever reason.
Dazed and Confused makes me thankful and self aware in many ways. It's not even one of my favorite movies and I've seen it about 3 times all the way through. And when someone tells me it's one of theirs, I think its cute, but I know that if it left an impression on me, it's likely it left a bigger impression on someone else.
I think I get it. That's cool. But I never needed an affirmation that reflected that time of my life back at me. I lived Dazed and Confused in ways that would have taught Dazed and Confused a couple things.
But in the end, I'm glad someone was able to affirm the trials and tribulations of youth rituals and the social norms and make it an endearing lesson in fictional reality.
The closing credits, "Free Ride" takes us into the newness of the sunrise and the possibilities that await-- the typical likelihoods silenced by a constrained optimism.
I've seen Aerosmith in concert.
There was a similar prelude in the subtext of seeing that show that everyone in the know- knew and felt.
"This is like Dazed and Confused."
Sometimes life and art is as spooky as the stuff that's going on in the back of a $1 bill.