In With The Out Crowd

Don't get me wrong if I come and go like fashion.
A few years ago, when I was 15 (well, I guess not a few years ago, but 8 which I guess is a bit more than a few) it was the 10th anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s suicide.
My stepmother and I didn’t get along - at all. We still don’t get along that great, but considering that I haven’t lived with my family since I was 18 and therefore only ever see her a few days in a year, it’s not as bad.
Anyway, my stepmom and I got into this huge fight over god fucking knows what. Being the angsty teenager that I was, I decided to have the last word, and when my stepmom and my dad both left the house, I decided to put Smells Like Teen Spirit on repeat at the highest volume my stereo allowed. I wrote some letter to my stepmom which essentially just said to fuck off and taped it to my bedroom door. I packed up a few of my things, leaving the stereo on, and left for my mom’s house (Anyone who knows me knows that’s a pretty big deal, considering I’ve gone 3 years without speaking to my mother before and usually avoid her like the plague, so the fact that I actually resorted to going to her place, was an even bigger fuck you to my stepmom).Nothing much came from it. I think a week later I decided to dye my hair black and it stained a bunch of our towels and the bath tub, and I waited until later on in the evening to come back home so that my dad couldn’t yell at me for it because they were having a dinner party. I decided to play the first 10 seconds of Pantera’s The Great Southern Trendkill on repeat for about half an hour just to annoy the hell out of them and a few weeks after that I fucked off and took a train to Halifax and stayed there for like 3 weeks without telling anyone where I was going. 
Anyway, so that’s my Kurt Cobain/Nirvana/I was an awful teenager* story.
*To be fair, I never really drank, did drugs, got into any trouble, and my dad only ever “grounded” me once for complaining about how he made the bacon that morning (and even then he still let me go out to the movies later that night). I was a pretty good kid, overall, just really, really angsty. 

A few years ago, when I was 15 (well, I guess not a few years ago, but 8 which I guess is a bit more than a few) it was the 10th anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s suicide.

My stepmother and I didn’t get along - at all. We still don’t get along that great, but considering that I haven’t lived with my family since I was 18 and therefore only ever see her a few days in a year, it’s not as bad.

Anyway, my stepmom and I got into this huge fight over god fucking knows what. Being the angsty teenager that I was, I decided to have the last word, and when my stepmom and my dad both left the house, I decided to put Smells Like Teen Spirit on repeat at the highest volume my stereo allowed. I wrote some letter to my stepmom which essentially just said to fuck off and taped it to my bedroom door. I packed up a few of my things, leaving the stereo on, and left for my mom’s house (Anyone who knows me knows that’s a pretty big deal, considering I’ve gone 3 years without speaking to my mother before and usually avoid her like the plague, so the fact that I actually resorted to going to her place, was an even bigger fuck you to my stepmom).

Nothing much came from it. I think a week later I decided to dye my hair black and it stained a bunch of our towels and the bath tub, and I waited until later on in the evening to come back home so that my dad couldn’t yell at me for it because they were having a dinner party. I decided to play the first 10 seconds of Pantera’s The Great Southern Trendkill on repeat for about half an hour just to annoy the hell out of them and a few weeks after that I fucked off and took a train to Halifax and stayed there for like 3 weeks without telling anyone where I was going. 

Anyway, so that’s my Kurt Cobain/Nirvana/I was an awful teenager* story.

*To be fair, I never really drank, did drugs, got into any trouble, and my dad only ever “grounded” me once for complaining about how he made the bacon that morning (and even then he still let me go out to the movies later that night). I was a pretty good kid, overall, just really, really angsty.