Saturday, April 19, 2008

Sometimes I'm not me

Ok, I know that I am supposed to write something creative here. I made this big thing about writing every day now and how this is being used as the Messy Room, which would be great if my life was anywhere near normal except that it isn’t. Last night resulted in my falling asleep at what would technically be considered this morning so my brain is not functioning at full capacity at the moment. I’m amazed that I can type to be honest with you.

But since I did promise new material here it goes. Actually, it is very old material but I don’t believe that anyone who reads this knew me in high school. It is how I somehow obtained the nickname of Bart two years ahead of the creation of Bart Simpson.

It was freshman year and I was in my awkward and gawky phase. I had a hell of a time coming out of my shell and figuring out where I fit in the world. I really felt like a kid amidst adults. It wasn’t a question of holding my own academically; it just seemed like everyone else was so much mature and together than I was. So I just kind of kept to myself.

Now one of the first people to really understand me was my English teacher. He saw that I was this witty, sharp guy who just wasn’t letting anyone see it. So he took it upon himself to make sure that the rest of the world was going to understand just what a type a guy I was. It was his goal to break me out of my shell. One of the ways he did this was give me a nickname that not only stuck for the rest of high school but is still mentioned whenever I meet an old classmate.

We were doing the annual freshman ritual of studying Romeo and Juliet. While studying Shakespeare’s history he decided to test how many of the students were sleeping through the lecture by inventing the story of Bart Shakespeare, Bill’s younger brother who wrote all the plays and got all of the credit. Some of the girls (cheerleaders to be exact) really did start wondering who the hell Bart Shakespeare was. Somehow I became Bart Shakespeare, which I never did understand but I appreciated the attention.

Soon not only was he calling me Bart in classes but other students and other teachers started referring to me as Bart. I think some people knew me better as Bart than as Chris. It worked wonders for me because it gave me a persona to play with. I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin so I could use this character of Bart to escape into where I was popular and confident. Bart was the writer and the jokester while Chris was trying to figure out who he was. Sure, I would have been better off having confidence some other way but it really helped me out. I became somebody because of that nickname.

Bart’s been retired for year now. The persona has served its purpose. When someone asked me about him once I said that he had made his way to New Orleans where he writes novels and dates strippers. I think he’d appreciate that fate.

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