Thanks once again for tips on how to improve - I promise I'll stop bugging you all soon ;D I've chosen you as my little dwarf elders, but feel free to decline. Much obliged for your help! Also, the help from other people is much obliged too!
ThankYoooou, Serendipity x
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Okay, so I'm sitting in front of my computer on yet another networking site - the list is endless and I've joined them all. Now I've reached the point where you have to tell those prospective friends what you're all about. On this particular site, they call it your autobiography, which is all well and good but I feel like I'm not worthy enough for that. In my eyes, autobiographies are for people who have done something, made something of their lives; not for slightly overweight sixteen-year-olds with self-image issues.
But I sit there and think about what to write anyway. Something that will draw people in; more than my pictures, or my not so quirky profile background. I begin to type:
My name is Lizzee, and I'm ginger-
Hitting the backspace button, I wait until there's nothing more but the cursor winking in a rectangle of white. I often think of Lonely Hearts columns when I get to this stage - trying to write a short but fascinating paragraph that says; I'm intriguing, mysterious, captivating et cetera. I'm clearly more desperate than I thought to meet new people.
Now, we all know about the prowlers on the ‘Inter-Web’, as my Dad likes to call it. Well, these fiends are drawn to me. The moment of excitement that usually follows a notification for a friend request quickly evaporates when I see who it is. Middle-aged men, strangely enough from Turkey. The only middle-aged man I know in my life is my Dad – and I wish I could decline him with the touch of a button sometimes.
It's the same in real life - life is just one big networking site. Being at school you have all the cliques; the popular kids - we don't know why they were called this because they weren't that popular at all; everyone hated their guts. The geeks - glasses, greasy hair and not so bright; being clever at our school didn't damage your street cred. The norms - all those people who can fit into any group or no group, therefore forming a group of their own and finally the emo/goth/greebo/miscellaneous section. I was in the latter, although you couldn't tell by looking at me and if you asked me what a greebo is, I couldn’t tell you – mainly because I don’t know myself. It’s just one of those things.
The fact of it is, I have yet to go through my goth stage of life - I'm told everyone has one, apparently - and that I just tagged along with my friends while they moshed their way through most of our school years. A safe bet, seeing as though no-one really messed with the goths, although they did get some good verbal kicks in during those lunchtime periods - "Mosh mosh, get a wash." was by far my favorite. I’ve only ever moshed once in my entire life, at a Mindless Self Indulgence gig, but I think I’d call it escaping – fleeing the pit of flailing limbs and hair.
Now I'm in college, you don't see the clique structure as clearly. People really do blend into each other, apart from the goths, and they're more bizarre than ever. My friends and I have strayed away from that side of life for now, although I sometimes find myself occupying an empty classroom with them all and kind of enjoying it. So, in the end, on those much important networking sites, I tend to put something like this;
Lizzee, 16 and slightly mental. Likes to 'go with the flow' and get lost in a book. I'm a bit of a drifter, so don't bother adding me.
I can tell you now - reverse psychology never works.
