From Cool to Contempt

When I was about 15, I wanted to be cool.  I adorned myself with a leather michael jackson style jacket, full of zippers, and pranced about the house, perfecting my look before I'd make my debut as a star, I thought.

Little did I know that teenage awkwardness would castigate me and mock me enough to force a dramatic stumble: even before my ascent into the echelon of avant-guardistic trend setting yogic explorer, I was an outcast, a loner.  

I wanted to finish writing this post, but it will have to come in a second installment at a later date.