You ever have one of those days where something you do doesn’t live up to your own expectations for yourself? So I had this sweet experience the other day…
I went to a skateshop to attempt some research for a client project that so far hasn’t actually materialized. I found, upon entering, that I had a full 90-seconds worth of imagined street cred to be standing there in my khaki’s and polo/Express shirt, pretending to be cool enough to actually look at anything in there. I could not muster the strength to look behind Skinny-Totally-Disinterested-In-Me guy to see any real skateboard designs. Mostly I looked at shoes. Owning one pair of cool sneaks myself — which of course I was not wearing that day — I figured this might be an adequate way for me to inch closer to people who actually have cred. For as it stands now, I know that I have none.
My wife has cred, and does not understand this in me. I believe that I am somewhat a master of the subset of cool known as “geek” and a few of it’s subsidiaries, but when it comes to anything that is actually cool — indie music, skating, scrapbooking — I become instantly socially incompetent. This is, I suppose, mostly imagined on my part, but is nonetheless the last bastion of my teenage insecurities that remains.
At least I have a boss-hog Star Trek movie to keep me safe.