Saturday, December 31, 2011

Retiring the Tattered Jacket

Let me tell you a little tale. Or rather, a documentation of a period/ style of my life. Story Time with Morgan. Yes yes, believe it or not, everything I am going to write about is 100% true.

When did it all start? who knows. But I'm going to tell the the story of my wild years. round about seventh grade I suppose is where it all began. The mismatched shoes, the colorful clothes, the frantic ideas and strange situations. Back in the day, it all started as a joke. The costumes and such. My way of making fun of click's and the silly social rules that exist. I started to become famous for my Orange pants and mismatched shoes. The people of Centennial loved it (well some of them). One kid legitimately wrote a song about my pants and sang it everytime he saw me. Anyways, it was during those times that I began to mold myself, into the person who doesn't care what other people think of him. But high school, that's where it really went wild. I didn't stop at the pants. Oh no. I moved on to Dresses, skirts, strange clothes, tophats and so on. And I was crazy. Nothing could stop me. I was on a warpath. Always trying to top my last stunt. Saying crazy things, doing crazy stuff. And then there came the Pink Floyd era. I became addicted to the album The Wall. listened to it over and over and over. I would listen to it and dance around my room, chanting, howling. I was watching all kinds of crazy surrealist movies and such. At one point, I legitimately thought I had gone insane. That I would never be able to think straight again. These were wild times. Times when I lived by the phrase "anything goes". And I didn't care what happened to me. Then the impulses came. Bam! they'd hit me lick a brick. completely take over. And I'd end up doing wild stuff. like: leaving secret packages on a girl's doorstep at 3 a.m. (which is actually one I'm really glad I did), dumping gasoline on a $200 ipod and lighting it on fire, painting all over my shirt and face rather than the canvas. Other things like that. And I sure made some pretty stupid decisions during that time period. I was becoming a monster. For a while, a ton of people thought I was a homosexual (which i'm not. trust me, you'd know. I don't care too much for closets) because I'd go to dances and dance with guys, and act gay, just for the heck of it and to freak people out. But I was starting to Hunter S. Thompson myself. Meaning: I had built a reputation I couldn't live up to anymore. People expected me to wear orange every day. and when I didn't, they were disappointed. Costumes had to get crazier and crazier. you have no idea how hard it was to think up things for Halloween! I couldn't live without madness and chaos. And oh boy, you should have seen me when I was time I started eating gravel (not too tasty, wouldn't recommend it). I was killing off what I guess you might call my "sweet side". 

Then I started to realize "wait a minute, this isn't who I am. This is what I have become". But I couldn't get out. And I just wanted people to see me for who I really was/am. Not this monster I had become. All kinds of rumors were going around about me. Which at first was kind of flattering. Then they got out of hand. In fact, just a few weeks ago I was asked about one. Apparently some people had been told, and actually believed, that I would capture my neighbors cats, brutally slice them up, and eat them. I kid you not, that is a legitimate rumor that was out there...don't know where that came from, but apparently people actually believed it. Lot's of people also assumed I was some crazy drug maniac. Fortunately I never really got into that scene, cause I probably would have been. Collected quite a wardrobe though. I was looking at it the other day and thought to myself "Geez, all I need to do is move to Vegas, I mean I already look like I could be a cocaine fiend". Though I have lost most my interest in dressing up now. But then, I threw in the jacket.

.....To Be Continued   

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