kindasortamaybeyeah.
I came to a realization last week: I am not cool. I’ve felt it in the weeks before, but only pinpointed the nature of the sensation last week. If you’ve seen Almost Famous you’ll know what I’m talking about. I’m a definite William Miller type. Several of the twentysomething guys in our church put together a band, Mali, and a really good band at that (i.e. they’re on the verge of being signed by a major label in Nashville). I know all the members of the band, Nathan, Jamie, and both Justins, and it’s probably just me, but every time I talk to them I feel like… an outsider? I’m not sure how to explain it. They have a cachet, a cool, a way of dressing and talking, that I’ll probably never have. If I let myself I can get a little bogged down in it, feeling like I wish I had that certain quality, but I know who I am, I know what I’m good at and how I relate to people and I’m secure in that, so the notion doesn’t affect me beyond the point of curiosity.
I felt it last week too, when I emailed Tess to tell her how much I enjoyed her music. She’s not hugely popular yet, so I imagine she doesn’t have acres of emails to wade through, so I received a couple of personal replies, which was really sweet. I wanted to reply and say something that I thought would mean something to her, but I thought, “What do I really have to offer?” I mean, compliments are a dime a dozen when you’re a musician, and I listen to her music, her personal expression, and I have my journal, and my thoughts, but c’mon, what could I really say beyond, “Hey, I think you’re great.” Nothing, really. She’s in that plane of cool, and I’m in my world, and she’s got enough friends already, and enough philosophical repartees in her life… I dunno. I feel like it’s that age-old struggle; I’m the nerdy freshman trying to elbow my way into another clique. It’s probably all my mind, though. We’ll see.