Alexplorer Goes Time
If you're just joining
this series already in progress, then it means you don't have a time machine,
so here's the short version: Every Tuesday (your present), I come back
from my adventures time-traveling around MySpace and fill you in on what
happened to people from my past as they keep slippin', slippin', slippin'
into the future.
Ah, here's one now...
Leroy (not his real name) and
I were in the same class in third and fifth grade. You could tell
from the start that he was NOT the scholastic type. It wasn't so
much that he didn't get it as that school and teachers and principals and
counselors and textbook writers and standardized test makers (and you get
it) just didn't "get" him.
He was the class clown, but in a way
that would make Jack Black look highbrow by comparison. Granted,
we <were elementary students at the time, so I should apply a sliding
scale on what he and his target audience would agree was funny. Similar
adjustments for inflation of his teachers' blood pressure should be made
as well since for the most part they found his antics thoroughly unfunny.
Every generation thinks they invented armpit fart sound effects.
Leroy worked it like he had a claim on the patent in that case.
He just wanted everyone to have a good
time, was that so wrong? Our fifth grade teacher didn't think so.
Maybe it was because this was a Catholic school (note the uniform), but
she foresaw a dim future for him and made no secret about it. "Leroy,"
she said to him in front of the whole class after interrupting his partying
that was interrupting her lesson, "I really worry about you. I cry
myself to sleep wondering what's going to become of you."
The feeling was mutual. Leroy
felt sorry for her, too. Not because he couldn't live up to her expectations.
It was because here was this poor woman forced to try to teach kids irrelevant
things like science and grammar and computers, and he didn't know any easy
way to distract her from her troubles long enough to make her happy.
Leroy is a professional at
making everyone have a good time. He's a full-time party DJ.
I don't know how his liver's holding up, but he's never outgrown the drive
to live it up with the people.
letter I'll probably never send to him:
There are many names for it. In
psychology, the term is self-actualization. In religion, it
might be called grace or nirvana. It is the state of
being at peace with yourself and the universe upon finding your true place
in it. Somehow, some way, in spite of all the obstacles put in your
path, Leroy, you sought out your level and found true harmony.
Your very existence makes you a motivational
speaker more powerful than 300 Watts ones your rig pumps out at every gig
you play. Congratulations on achieving something that even richer,
more ambitious individuals never find, and please keep spreading the word.
2008 Ale[x]plorer. All photos are of the actual individuals described
above because, seriously, I can't make this shit up.