Hammered In The Hallway Means You’re Doing Life Right

Every morning I ask myself the same question; what is the universe trying to teach me?

Before I met my BFF, I thought school was something you did because you had to, on your way to the things you wanted to.

After we met, everything changed.

“You should bring your drawings tomorrow,” he said eagerly.

Who was this guy, what planet did he come from, and what other secrets did he have? I had to know.

“Sure,” I said, choking down the excitement.

How could I have missed this, I thought. The potential that school might actually be a place I could be creative was like dipping fries in my frosty for the first time — AMAZING!

That night mom wanted to kill me.

I couldn’t shut up about my new best friend. He was husky, like me, with golden hair that protruded like a dozen tiny bird’s nests. But unlike me, he was at least a head taller — nearly eye to eye with your standard adult — and clumsy like a puppy.

He had a brother, something I knew nothing about, and a dad that cared enough to stick around, something I hoped for. But it was the mad, crazy, wonderful behavior of being himself no matter where he was that attracted me to him most.

I don’t remember exactly what I thought would happen when I started bringing my sketchpad to school, but I am sure that’s about the time my BFF and I started getting picked on. Two robust boys with sketchpads and a superhero addiction didn’t win us any friends.

When Mrs. J. was feeling generous, she let us stay inside during recess and escape into our art. It was transcendent. When she was feeling overworked, she forced us onto the playground to fend for ourselves. It was terrifying.

We weren’t just picked on; we were attacked. We were fat and reminded of it regularly, but that was nothing compared to being humiliated for our art.

Weekends away from recess hell was our salvation. With the X-men theme song on repeat, we studied comics, gorged ourselves on McDonald’s double cheeseburgers, and played Sega’s Kid Chameleon until our hands hurt. It was the last time I was honest. The last time I did exactly what I wanted without caring about what anyone thought.

Then I watched the movie ‘Lucas,’ and everything changed again.

The 1986 classic starring Corey Haim and Kerri Green is about an outcast. A kid, smaller than the others with glasses two sizes too big for his head, and bright, a kind boy who liked bugs. A movie that depicted precisely what it was like to be out there on the edge, doing what you love, and having everyone hate you for it.

The more Lucas pushed, the worse the world teated him.

Something connected. If Lucas brought his bugs to school and got hammered in the hallway for it, then maybe my giant book of superheroes was just bugs of a different sort.

So I left my sketchpad at home the next day. And do you know what happened? Nothing. No one knocked my books out of my hands, no one laughed at my favorite sketch, no one looked at me that way you look at the one guy who just doesn’t get the joke. And for some reason, I thought that was a success.

It was like I disappeared, and that was better than being a target.

But it wasn’t enough.

I started dressing like the popular kids at school. I watched how they acted and parroted it back. And people noticed me. Cool people.

Within a month, I had a date with one of the most popular girls in school. I stopped drawing and certainly didn’t hang out at comic book stores anymore. Worse of all, I avoided my best friend when anyone was watching.

It was like putting on a Halloween costume and going to the best party in disguise. Thing is, I never took the outfit off. And that was thirty years ago.

Every morning I ask myself the same question; what is the universe trying to teach me?

No matter what, I answer it because you can’t ask yourself questions and not provide answers. Even if those answers are radically different from the day before, or you know they’re flat out wrong. The goal isn’t to have the correct response; it’s struggling to find the next response. The one that gets me closer to the truth.

I’m the kid who loves comics — the kid who loves to read. The kid who has meditated since he was 10-years-old because he saw Jean-Claude Van Damme do it. The kid who dreamt of being a hippie, enjoys working out for working out’s sake, copied his tattoo from the movie ‘Blade’ and ‘Dusk Til Dawn,’ and hates parties. The kid who tried for two decades to be someone he’s not.

If I could go back to the day I left my sketchpad at home, I’d tell my younger self that status isn’t worth your soul. That Lucas was the real hero. And of all the things we have in this world, the greatest is the thing that makes us unique. Even if it’s the thing that gets you hammered in the hallway.