Gone with the Wind
I’ve been trying to be breezy and not terribly analytic here because 1. Who wants to read an intense, psychologically probing account of the life of someone with no real problems? 2. I tend to over-think everything.
I over-thought things in my freshman year of high school. I was determined to mold my personality into something entirely different. I would be outgoing, charming, and effusive; the opposite of the girl who wore a D.A.R.E. T-shirt to school and was struck dumb when Gabe Luevano, pompadoured and leading a pack of popular kids like the villain in an ’80s teen flick, stepped into her path and dared her to keep him off drugs1; the opposite of the girl who would wander around alone at lunch reading a biography of Mozart until a group of Asian Girl Professional Overachievers took pity on her and invited her to join them.2 I would, as a girl who had read Gone with the Wind three times in one year without even noticing how racist it is put it in her journal, “Be less Melanie Hamilton and more Scarlett O’Hara.”
Yeah, it didn’t work. Men weren’t getting caught in my charm despite my not being beautiful; dashing blockade runners weren’t chuckling “What a woman” knowingly to themselves after I made dramatic exits from rooms.3
The highlights of what I remember about freshman year are as follows: I cut my hair short after a traumatizing experience with cheap black hair dye; I wrote a pretty good skit for Spanish III; I started writing a “Quote of the Day” on the board of my English class, along with my frienval4 Marc Valles; I took the wrong side5 in a fight that broke up my group of girlfriends (not the Asian Girl Professional Overachievers) and then gradually drifted away from them; I joined the Aspiring Writers Club, but, completely intimidated by the elegant mod6 seniors who headed it, never attended a meeting.
In other words, I was still totally a Melanie Hamilton.
My fourteenth birthday. Aren't I a total siren?
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- A couple of years ago, I found out that his brother is a police officer in our hometown when he responded to a call I made about kids smoking pot in the park. Don’t know if that’s ironic or not, but it’s something.
- This was not quite like joining a girl gang, but there was something empowering about being in a group of fellow black-haired girls in Guess jeans and oversized sweatshirts. I genuinely liked the Asian Girl Professional Overachievers and really wanted to be like them. I even copied the handwriting of the girl who was my closest friend in the group. She eventually noticed, and it was awkward.
- That I know of.
- That’s a friend and a rival. Oh please please please say I’ve coined the Next Big Portmanteau Word.
- That is, any side at all.
- In my Bay Area suburb “mod” was what we called people who listened to the kind of music played on the “Modern Rock” station Live105. Here is a Live105 commercial from 1990.
Hi, Jennifer. I’m enjoying your “Faking It” series, especially the latest installment, “Gone with the Wind.” I went to high school with you, so I nearly did a spit-take at the mention of Gabe Luevano. Just the other day, I told my husband about two friends of mine (fellow AHS alumni) falling all over themselves when Gabe appeared at their table at IHOP – as their waiter. (That was maybe 10 years ago.) Anyway, I always thought you seemed interesting (dare I say…cool?), someone I could be friends with, but I was also intimidated by you. In fact, I’ve seen you at Suju’s recently and considered introducing myself, but I guess that high school intimidation is still with me, ha ha. Now that I know you’ve just been “Faking It,” maybe I’ll say hello next time I see you. :)
Oh my gosh, please do say hello! It’s so strange how different what we project to the world is from how we perceive ourselves sometimes.
Thank you for the story about Gabe Luevano. I wonder what image he had of himself when he was interrupting my solitary walk in Junior High.
Thanks for your encouraging reply – I have gone from “maybe” to “will” say hello next time I see you.
Ah, Gabe. The boy peaked too early, methinks.