November 2, 2011

I think that I’ve become the kind of person my childhood self would have thought was cool.

I’ve got on the same t-shirt I got circa fourth grade at the Museum of Fine Arts during their “Dangerous Curves: Art of the Guitar” exhibit. Uncharacteristic foresight on the part of a ten-year-old, buying a medium and subjecting it to the kind of abuse only a grade-school playground can offer. The result, after having had the shirt for the latter half of my life, is a pale crimson hue that somehow brings me back to the scrub pines and battered woodwork of the Cape. My sneakers are white canvas, which I was reluctant as a child to admit that I liked. I’ve since come around, though.

I still listen to rock music; namely Warren Zevon, as evidenced by a number of prior posts. The majority of music on my computer is rap and hip-hop, and that’s the case for a number of reasons. Rap is both poetic and character-driven, and a child with an affinity for wordplay and a half-finished comic book page close at hand whenever possible would certainly have appreciated those two aspects. A keen linguistic sense and appreciation for unique voices and dialects might have also allowed my past self to derive at least some degree of entertainment from rap music of any sort.

As for academic and occupational trajectory, I’d likely have been able to appreciate the somewhat unconventional way in which I’ve been spending the last couple years. As a marginally engaged student whose desk relentlessly consumed anything of scholastic importance but reliably stored ten or eleven books (one of which I’d keep in my lap and read during class with few attempts to conceal it, illicit as the pastime may have been) , I’d become fairly cognizant of the discrepancy between my ability and performance. It was addressed with varying degrees of concern over the years, and to my satisfaction I managed to confound as many remedial specialists (accredited and otherwise, with emphasis on “otherwise”) as set out to change my ways and “fix” me. There was never much doubt in my mind about the presence of some sort of asynchronous cognitive attributes whose traits would both assist and frustrate me regardless of my position in life. The way I see it, I would be just as foolish to compare my challenges to those of a “normal” student as I would my abilities in certain sectors. In a way, I’m back to elementary school. With high school’s social turmoil and one-size-fits-all curriculum behind me, I’m now free to pursue something that truly engages me, and I like to think that my childhood self would have approved.

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