I know that I said that I was going to write about the whole college football playoff thing. And I was, I promise. But I hit a minor bump in the road.
You see, mighty confessioner, I do most of my writing while on the metro bus/rail ride to work. Because, well, its where I write. But, then my good friend Ragged Company1 left me a book. To be fair, I did ask him for this book, but still. The book was/is Oblivion by David Foster Wallace.
Confessioner, I love DFW. Like everything he writes. I read Infinite Jest like 11 times over the span of three or so months2, and to a degree, a lot of my writing style is like his. Well, at least that’s what Dutch says. And, actually, this post sorta proves.
But back on topic, I read that book instead of writing. For like the past two days now. So that’s why I haven’t finished the playoff post. I will though. I (sorta) promise.
So! Instead of that post I’ve decided to share with you the sadness and/or complete and total crap that (most) of “Searching for Eve” was going to be before I revamped the whole idea behind it.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you
When I was a senior in high school, I had an idea for one of those “based on a true story” romantic comedy movies. And here, in these early days of Confessions, I’ve decided to share it here. Now, you have to forgive me for this, because this idea was created doing a very idealistic time in my life, way before I developed the healthy hatred and cynicism towards relationships that I have now.
The back-story to “Searching for Eve” is this: back when I was in eighth grade, there was this girl. Real quiet, real nice. No one really noticed her. She just came to school, got good grades and went home. Now, she wasn’t like drop dead gorgeous or anything. Actually, from what I remember, her hair was stringy, and she had bad acne. In an effort at full disclosure, I didn’t look too much better than that then, nor do I now. Though instead of stringy hair, I had uncombed hair. Not that that’s that big of a difference. Suffice to say, not many people found her attractive. But, I did. Well, to be honest, I didn’t really actually like her, or think she was really all that attractive at first. What happened was the simple phenomenon of “School Goggles,” being that while I was in classes with her for about 2 years, I finally noticed how attractive she was–or could be rather. Well, that and I actually got to know her. Most people didnâ€™t want to talk to her, because of the reasons that I listed, and no one wanted to talk to me because they thought that I thought I was smarted and better than they were. Unfortunately, for them, and me, this was only half-true. I was only smarter than they were. In middle/high school, you’re only better than the people that you think you are better than. And, I didn’t think I was better than anyone. I now know different/the truth, but that doesn’t change what happened then. that being that we were the only people of opposite that could, to a degree, could connect with each other with no sexual tensions (My excuse was that I was, and to a degree still am, too scared to show any sort of sexual tension or acknowledge me. It’s a curse, honestly).
I remember having a conversation with a group of friends of mine during study hall3, telling them I thought that she was one of the most attractive girls at the school. They laughed at me. This, honestly, was to be expected, because no one else could really tell. Well, that, and because at that point, I was so used to observing what would happen in a group of people, versus what actually was happening in a group of people that I sometimes confused the two. The reason why that was happening to me probably will come out at some point or another. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. Doubtfully.
Anyhoo, what happened was (and, as usual, I believe this was a deliberate attempt to ruin my psyche and, well, make me cry) somewhere between the Eighth grade and Sophomore Year of high school, she took modeling classes or something. And become (figuratively) Super Model hot. Like had all the guys from the other two middle schools in love with her hot. And, actually, most of the ones from my middle school. Now, in a movie or something, this would be where she notices me and we would live forever ever after. Hell, if this was a TV show, this is where she would notice me and we would date a couple of episodes before my character was killed off or something. Unfortunately, neither of those happened. What happened was real life. She never noticed nor acknowledged me again. Now, a lot of people would be pretty disturbed and bitter about this. In actuality, I’m not disturbed at all. Though I know that I’m not the most attractive person in the world (nor the least for that matter), I also know that without playing, you canâ€™t win. Though, honestly, without playing you can’t lose either. And I’m really not sure how to take that information.
1: I’ve long ago decided to call people by either arbitrary nicknames or the names they’ve registered with here.
2: Seriously. It was during a time in which I had no tv, just books and work. So I read IJ a lot. To the point where I started to memorize some of the end notes.
3: actually, it was my paper football league. Not long, but a slightly embarrassing story. So that means I probably
will won’t be telling it.