Yesterday I did one of my all-time favorite things: sat in a coffee shop for hours sipping a latte (yes, I'm bad) and reading. Okay, I know it's a bit cliche, like a scene from a girl movie, but there's really no accounting for taste right? Anyway, I like to watch the people coming in and out of the coffee shop and eaves-dropping on conversations where I can. There are the inevitable volatile discussions of Hillary vs. Obama. There are the older generations that sit across the table from each other for hours, sipping black coffee and literally not saying anything to each other for the duration. Then, of course, there are teenage social deviants that frequent the coffee shop for a sense of fitting in.
The generally accepted term for these teenage/young adult social deviants is "emo." These kids dress in dark, tight clothing. Even during the sweltering summer months, Emo kids will be adorned in hooded sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up over their black locks and pierced eye-brows. Often-times it is difficult to distinguish the male Emo from the female Emo as both dress the same, have the same haircuts, and usually have no curves whatsoever.
Last night I was surprised by a steady influx of Emo kids. Apparently I had stumbled upon an acoustic guitar show, which I decided to stick around for. The evening was filled with talented guitarists with unusually high tenor ranges, belting out original tunes and various versions of Colbie Collet and Radiohead, among others. The sullen, heart-felt music filled the coffee shop and much to my surprise, silenced a room full of fifty teenagers. Unlike the teenagers of my generation (which wasn't too long ago), this over-depressed group of teenagers were an extremely respectful audience. They were attentive, congratulatory to their fellow musicians, and appropriately enthusiastic at the end of each song. If such a feat had been attempted when I was in high school, there would certainly have been much heckling and perhaps throwing of food items.
The event led me to ponder though, the possibility of adopting an Emo kid, specifically an Emo boy, of my own. Below would be the pros and cons of such:
Pros:
-We could share the same pants.
-My life would always seem less depressing than his.
-Black hair dye is cheap.
-Taking advantage of his creative outlets could become quite profitable.
-We would share a love of tattoos and piercings, in fact, such an event could become a "family outing."
Cons:
-We could share the same pants.
-Because of his emaciated and some-what "Holocaust victim" appearance, I would always be the fat kid.
-Stylists are expensive.
-All sharp objects would have to be hidden in the event of a stressful occurrence.
-Therapy is expensive.
Oh Emo kids, I love you!
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