VRAM: 1 kB
Max Resolution: 60.05 Hz, 40x24 char
Power: 58 Watts
Introduced: April 1976
humans play scrabble > dog wants attention > dog plows across scrabble board & plunks himself down in front of human from whom he desires the attention of > scrabble game abruptly concludes > humans exchange looks of "do we discipline him?" > dog furiously wags his tail demanding aforementioned attention and further scatters game tiles > humans simultaneously agree it's more fun to take a photo of the mess than to dicipline the dog for creating it > dog wins again & learns nothing from the experience > humans perpetuate the cycle.
So, here it is. I was a goth kid in highschool. I know this conjures up some seriously bizarre and comical images for many, but right off, I want you to know that yesteryear's goths were very different from a lot of the "goths" that hang out at the malls these days.
For starters, I don't even recall referring to ourselves as "goth." We didn't hang out at malls or loiter in public places very much at all because a) the malls didn't carry the clothes we liked and b) because we simply didn't want the attention. We didn't want to be stared at, feared, misunderstood, or whatever. We wanted to just... be.
We were by no means a mafia, and especially not of the trenchcoat persuasion. We never once fantasized of who among the jocks, the cheerleaders and the preps we would dust if given the opportunity. In fact, we scarcely noticed the jocks and the cheerleaders and the preps, and aside from the occasional snicker or muttered "nice hair, freak," as we passed by them in the cafeteria, they more or less were unaware of us, too.
There was no white facepaint, no black lipstick nor black eyeliner crosses on our foreheads. We did however dye our hair all the colours of the rainbow, we did prefer skull rings over class rings, and we did wear the prettiest, pointiest, and priciest Fluevog's you ever did see (and paired with my favourite black pvc skirt... it was a look to die for).
We hung as a very small group (and by small I mean never less than 2 but rarely more than 5 or 6), and we sat in the alcoves by the drama classroom, or on the school lawns in good (but not too sunny) weather, reading classic literature or scribbling in our journals and sketchbooks.
Instead of talking about boys in the girls bathroom or doing doughnuts in the school parking lot during spares, we doubled-up on photography classes, coveting our darkroom time. (ok, I doubled-up on photography classes for a boy... but somehow managed to become a pretty good photographer anyway). We shared our headphones & mix tapes religiously with one another, listening to Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy, Ministry, NIN & Skinny Puppy, and spent every last dime on pricey import records, a non-stop flow of concert tickets, head-shop t-shirts and books of poetry.
Drugs? Well then how could we afford those pricey import records?
We did not discuss Satan, had no desire to worship Satan nor carry out the evil wishes of Satan. We were a kind, gentle, quiet bunch who revered the likes of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Baudelaire, and William Shakespeare (and the Queen of The Damned herself -- Ms. Anne Rice, but of course).
Allow me to pull some quotes from Simpson's article that ring true of my own experience:"Most goths are well educated, however. They hardly ever drop out and are often the best pupils. The subculture encourages interest in classical education, especially the arts. I'd say goths are more likely to make careers in web design, computer programming... even journalism."
So, I think perhaps it's true: you can take the girl outta goth, but you can't take goth outta the girl. In fact at this very moment, I have the uncontollable urge for this first time in years (despite my Hello Kitty desktop and pink nailpolish), to play some Siouxsie whilst composing a poem involving ravens, goblets of blood-red wine, and silvery, moonlit garden paths.