It's all about me, man
By Matt Worley

It was during the fleeting thought of "Hmm, what is clean enough to wear to Goth night in Ybor City?" that I realized who I am. The question has been a perplexing one for the last few months. I was floating in June, lazily looking around for something to hold on to. I had a direction, but it wasn't my own. You have to follow something though, so that's the way I went. It led me to Florida‹which was a place I never thought about much. As I pulled on the spotty bleached blue jean cut-offs, I decided to carry the thought further.

Originally, tonight was the No Doubt/Dog Eat Dog show. I had the tickets all set up (both for myself and others in my party) and was a little excited. If not for the bands (I've seen Dog Eat Dog, and No Doubt is just a reason to see Gwen Stefani in spandex) for the crowd, which would certainly be young and enthusiastic. Unfortunately, Gwen got sick and the show was canceled. So we fell back on Goth/Retro/New Wave night at the Empire. If you are not totally clear on what a Goth is, the easiest definition would be those people who dress like vampires. Or Fairuza Balk of The Craft. As for what kind of music Goth is, I'm still trying to figure that out. The cool thing about Goth night is the large amount of young women who attend, and the fact that you can dance alone without being called nasty names.

So there's nothing more rousing after a particularly downer episode of 90210 than to wear flamboyant colors, throw on a little make up and go to Goth night. Yes, the new me likes to clash. This new revelation of myself leads me to a little list I like to call: people I am not. I'm not defined by a political party. I'm not any of the characters on 90210 (which makes it so funny). I'm not Ethan Hawke's character in Reality Bites (even though he gets Winona Ryder). I'm not Batman. I'm not a punker (but I like a lot of punk). I'm not the Andrew McCarthy character in St. Elmo's Fire who is crazy about Ally Sheedy. I'm not Beck (although I am curious). I'm not Han Solo (but I tried). And I'm not even that long-haired floater I was a few months ago. No, I am a new man.

I'll walk in, bathe myself in the black light, order a Dos Equis and watch the dancers do the wave (not like at sporting events). People will size me up and go on with their night, but in their head they will realize how special the new me is. I'll finish the beer and begin to dance. I'll be similar to Christian Slater's character in Pump Up The Volume (without the glasses). I'll be like that guy in high school who knew everyone, but was known by no one. I'll be somewhat close to the most refreshing drink you've ever had (with the worst aftertaste‹like Zima). I'll be out of control, but in my own world. I'll be Mattman. And that should be enough. That and Markinson's testimony should really be enough.

Maybe it was that the make-up made me look like I had pink eye. Maybe it was the way I contrasted so well with the black and white Goth world. Maybe it was the way I looked so sure of myself while swinging my arms and hips. I have been rejected. That's right. I walked into the club, proclaiming my me-ness and was summarily snubbed. Not that people didn't look, but they certainly did not want to taste.

So I have to rethink this originality thing. I mean, do I really want to be an island unto myself? Wouldn't I at least prefer to be stranded with someone else? Maybe I should try to be Ethan Hawke (although without that stupid looking I-can't-grow-enough-but-love-me-anyway goatee and grin), or maybe just ordinary man. Maybe I can really come to love the mass music mish-mash of Hootie-Alanis-Oasis-Cranberry-Ocean-Spray-Smashing-Pumpkins. I can be a Zero, as long as everyone else is a Zero just like me. I can revel in the masterful revelations of "You Live, You Learn." I can come to appreciate clichés as entire conversations.

I forgot the cardinal rule of being human. We have to be social. And to be that social animal, I have to fit in. Here I was thinking everyone would just come over to me, and the real deal was already there. It's just up to me to match up. Maybe you'll see me working the new me in a few days. I'll be that guy who looks just like everyone else.

Matt Worley does many things pretty well but nothing exceptionally. He says he'll get down to refining his skills after he turns 30.

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