Hello all. I am little lost today, or rather, confused about where I should go with my personal style. Yes, I know, vanity is for the birds. But try telling a guy who wears a mustache and nut-hugging jeans in the prime of his life that his 'look' isn't "all that important". As my Dad always told me, "Kurt. I love you, because you are my son, but mostly because you are young, dumb, and full of c**...and that is funny to me."

Sidenote: For the record, almost every time I heard that speech I took a moment to reflect. And, after all these years I have realized that my father most likely impregnated my mother a second time for very specific reasons. The first son was born for the longevity of the family name. My brother, the brains of the family, was meant to do something with his life. The pride of the family - well spoken and articulate, intelligent nearly beyond measure, gentle and kind - he is destined for greatness of some sort. I, on the other hand, was sired for an entirely different reason. My parents needed some comedy in their life, something to laugh at..."Oh! Look at what he is doing now! Haha...he's eating fertilized soil from the potted plant again! Wearing nothing but rubber boots and a T-shirt." Mom. Dad. That's some cold shit.

Back to the point...style and my first day back on campus. You know how it is, the first day of school and all. Not all that much has changed for me since my Mom first dropped me off at Kindergarten, or pre-school, or at the orphanage...(I'm over it, whatever). I still cry, and get all nervous about whether or not the other kids will like me. I still get nervous, wondering if I picked out the cool folder at Shopko®. Everyone else always seemed to have the sweetest fucking Trapper-Keeper™, and there I was toting my hand-me-down Thundercats© folder, all dog-eared by my brother who had cast it away the second day of class, six years ago.

Now, some fifteen years later, I still wish I had gotten up a little earlier to plan my outfit. And wouldn't you know: Fuck! Here I am wearing the same shit as last semester, and wouldn't you guess it...Puma shoes are out now! Last semester I was cutting edge, the shining fashion-beacon guiding those poor lost souls to Cool Harbor. And now here I am, shamed in my inability to understand how the hipster movement was changing for the new season. Apparently, while I was busy working my ass off to pay tuition, the rest of the world went emo and now everyone is wearing dopey run-down looking hoodies, long messy hair, and tight jeans. I can't even listen to Snow Patrol without feeling like Carson Daily and the rest of the MTV crowd are poking me in the back with their hipster hard-ons.

Does this mean that I have to find a new look to express my inability to conform? Do I stay-the-course, hoping that the wave will pass me by, and that in another ten years I'll be that thirty-something year old ass that teenagers acuse of being stuck in the...10's? By the way, what are we supposed to call this century? There are previous guidelines for the 20's, 30's, 40's, etc.; but what are we supposed to say about right now when referencing back to now in the future? I'm so confused!

Moving on, here is the rub. Today, I am walking across campus, (I know a self-respecting 25 year old should not be admitting he is still in college, let alone an undergrad...), and all I see are frat guys in 7™ jeans, Minnesotans plastered in Ed Hardy™ and American Apparel™, and JAP chicks cruising down the road in vintage Land Rover™ Defenders wearing Ray Bans™ and leather motorcycle jackets from the 80s. Okay, I understand it's not very 'hip' to name labels like I was from the suburbs, but without Chrome™ messenger bags, the 'bike messengers' in Madison, would just be a bunch of skinny assholes wearing vintage horn-rimmed gogg-a-loons, tight T-shirts, and London Calling™ jeans. Speaking of bike messengers, if you are such a 'bike messenger' deliver something already...and stop trying to run me over on your single-gear, stripped-down city bike. The point being, I don't even know who is who anymore. Think. When was the last time you went to a coffee shop? Who was there? EVERYONE! Where am I supposed to go to identify myself as the undiscovered literary genius that I am? How can I possibly be a coffee snob when everyone knows that a Café Americano is just espresso in cup with some hot water? Can't we just slow the fashion scene down a little?

Maybe we should have a national 'Look' registration table or something. That way, if you wished to persue your individuality by means of personal style, you could easily register said 'look' with the government and then sue the shit out of the next 18 year old knob who broke the law by committing 'look infringement'. Or even better have him arrested on the spot by the 'Style Police'. I mean, your 'look' is important, right? Roxette wrote a fucking song about it for Christ's sake. Sure, there are still jocks, and chearleaders, and rockers and whatnot, but who is protecting the little guy? No one. With these larger groups preying upon our style, upping the anty all the time, I'm going to end up walking out of the house wearing flippers and a tiara just to feel like myself again.

Alright, rant over. It's time to get down to business and start petitioning the government to protect my vanity, insecurity, and frailty of character.

Thug 4 Life.