Cleaning Out My Closets

I’m moving at the end of July and while I’m not quite motivated to the point of real packing, I have been going through old “keepsake” boxes. It’s been a painful journey that has reminded me how truly idiotic the folly of pop culture worship can be no matter what the age.



Take for example my box of grade school materials. Right on top was a creative writing project about the BBC sci-fi hit Dr. Who. It’s hard to quantify just how geeky I was in 5th and 6th grade when it came to Dr. Who. My mom, who had never knitted learned how just so I could have a 12 ft scarf like the Doctor’s. I attended 3 conventions, including one with my 6th grade sweetheart with, which surprisingly marked a high point in our “relationship”. While I’ve acknowledged my Whovian past, it wasn’t until I came face to face with it that I realized how utterly it dominated my early life.



Moving on to my high school box I found two lists that some friends had put together about me: 100 Athletes Who Elliot Jocks (for those not familiar, jock meant I was fanatical to the point of starry eyed adoration) and 100 Women Elliot Jocks. On the sports list you had Mark McGuire and Jose Canseco near the top of the list. I couldn’t tell you why I liked them especially since I never remember being a fan. Then again right next to their names there is a Bash Brother’s logo that’s clearly in my handwriting. The list of ladies was slightly more disturbing. It was comprised of celebrities with a few of my high school peers thrown in. I’m guessing if I’d known my classmate Genevieve would go on to become a basic cable superstar on Trading Spaces she would have ranked higher then 12. However celebrities topped the list and number 1 was Jennifer Capriati. At this point she had already been busted once or twice for shoplifting and/or drugs yet she was still my most desirable female. I was surprised to see this as I didn’t think I started falling for substance abusing criminals until my college days.



Naturally since my college years are somewhat fresh in my mind I didn’t expect any embarrassing or surprising memories to pop out of there. I figure any lost memories were killed off many brain cells ago. Sadly while cleaning things out my hopes were dashed when I came across an unsent letter to some high school friends. Much to my dismay I discovered the entire first verse of MC Hammer’s Pumps N Da Bumps, in the margin. In case you don’t recognize the title, this is not classic Hammer or Can’t Touch This Hammer; this isn’t even 2 Legit 2 Quit Hammer. This is “hardcore” Hammer as he made one last desperate attempt to stay relevant. Seeing this prompted memories of actually purchasing the single, the album, and hanging a free poster in my room in my junior year. That’s 1995 people!



I guess my point here is that those of us in our late 20’s/early 30’s, who rip the “kids” for their American Idol, their Lindsey Lohan, and their Tiara Girls, need to check ourselves every so often. I’m not saying we should take an introspective look so that we can ease up on the youth of today. Heavens no, I think this kind of self realization only makes our critiques that much sweeter because we know in 10 to 15 years they’ll be just as mortified as us. Plus I’m secure in the knowledge that it doesn’t stop there; 10 years from now I’ll be looking back at the blog and wonder who Heidi was and what the fuck were The Hills.