Sooo uncool

Mostly I feel disappointed that I have not outgrown my need for attention. I wish I was cool. I wish I could be that person that everyone wants to know. Why? Because then people would seek ME out and I wouldn't have to put my head on the chopping block everytime I called someone to chat. I wouldn't have to brave the tempestuous waters of new and fragile friendships only to suffer the inevitable rejections that come with it.

I thought I would be over that by now.

Maybe it's fucking New York. People don't return your phone calls here. Especially people who, no less than a week ago, were singing your praises to the world about what an amazing person you are. This is the same person who gushed about you and your work and looked at you with such adoring eyes. This is the person who declared his undying devotion and gave a tearful testimonial about everything you taught him. He has learned so much from you and found you to be not only a great artist, but a gifted teacher and exemplary human being. You would expect someone like that to make an effort to return your calls. After the second call to both the cell phone and the land line I tend to give up. I don't want to look desperate, even though I am.

No. I've never been cool, but I used to have a group of friends that would show up wherever I went. Maybe I was a little cool- to my little group I suppose I had some value as a social commodity, but now I just feel shut out.

Then comes the awkwardness of never having the "cool" knowledge. I've been reading some blogs and I am sad to say I just can't follow them. I recognize each individual word as a word in the English language but when strung together I can't even use context clues to figure it out. This then makes me question my skill as a writer. Perhaps I can write for the pacemaker set? They'll get me. To them, I'm a sex symbol! We can stay up all night, drink metamucil and listen to Ric Ocasek. Oh, wait, maybe Ric Ocasek is just obscure and underappreciated enough to be cool again. See I can't even fit in with the fogeys either! How about Menudo? Herb Alpert and the Tiajuana Brass?

I've always read the wrong thing, listened to the wrong music, eaten the wrong food and I've absolutely NEVER had the right signature mixed drink. I was drinking Cosmos when Mojitos were all the rage. Then there was the disasterous Stinger phase which never caught on with anyone and when I finally returned to my trusty vodka sours I was all gauche by not caring what vodka was used. I'm a fucking sore thumb. I'm a transister radio in a forest of iPods. I'm the Elaine Dance in a sea of Running Men. I'm a lesbian haircut in a casino.