Alexplorer Goes Time Traveling...

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

Then:
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.


Now:
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.

Hypothetical letter I'll probably never send to him:
Leroy,

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.

-Alex.



Copyright 2008 Ale[x]plorer.  All photos are of the actual individuals described above because, seriously, I can't make this shit up.
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