Candid: “I’m a jerk!”

Who wants to be calm and focused all the time?

Justin Cote, formerly of Transworld Surf, currently Marketing Director of SUPERbrand, sent Derek that clip of Marzo this morning and asked if we’d post it. Why not? It’s good stuff, maybe it’ll convince them to give us some money. Probably not, but whatever.

I like Justin Cote. He spearfishes, and is one of the few people in the surf industry who’s actually met me. Because I’m a weird hermit who enjoys his solitude and I’m self aware enough to realize that I can be very difficult to deal with. Which is why I’ve never so much as spoken to Derek or Chas on the phone. All contact via email, and I like it that way. I never know what will come out of my mouth once I’ve opened it.

Sure, Derek is half a world away, but I’m in California often enough that I could easily pick up the phone and spend some time with Chas. But I won’t, because I don’t like doing the awkward little social dance that comes with meeting new people. It’s not so much that I’m worried people won’t like me. Plenty of people can’t stand my stupid face, doesn’t bother me at all. If it did I’d act a hell of a lot differently. Or try to, I may be too old for true personal growth.

The trouble comes when I don’t like someone, I’ve never learned how to pretend. Never had to, my wife fills that role and we’ve been together since we were kids. It’s called enabling.

So Derek asked me to pump out a few paragraphs, and I was more than happy to comply because that type of thing is easy. Watch the video, come up with an idea, run with it.

Though asking me to write something about your brand is like handing a twelve year old a bottle of tequila and bag full of M-80s. Something cool might happen, but it’ll probably end in tears.

And all I could think about was the autism. Which is a touchy subject, and not something I’m comfortable mocking. What little compassion I have pops up in the strangest of places. I feel the same way about Down’s Syndrome. Not to conflate the two, I just don’t usually give a shit about other people, but for some reason, in those cases, I kind of do.

I’m thirty five years old, born in 1980. Not old, not young, slowly creeping toward middle age. Or not so slowly. God damn all those old fuckers who told me I’d blink one day and find my twenties long gone. What a shitty thing to be right about.

Looking back, the late 80’s and 90’s, the earliest my memories go, were a weird time. Concussions weren’t a big deal, good thing because I knocked myself out a solid half dozen times before I turned eighteen. Which might explain a few things. Helmets were for fags, which was totally acceptable to say back then.

Looking back, the late 80’s and 90’s, the earliest my memories go, were a weird time. Concussions weren’t a big deal, good thing because I knocked myself out a solid half dozen times before I turned eighteen. Which might explain a few things. Helmets were for fags, which was totally acceptable to say back then.

Kind of still is, if the dude I parked next to while checking the surf a few days ago is any indication. “If my son was a faggot I’d fucking kill myself.” Who says that in public? It’s enough to make me wish there were a god, and that she had a sense of humor.

Autism wasn’t really around yet either, other than the Hollywood notion of counting dropped toothpicks. ADD reared its head, but I was well into my teens at that point and was spared medication. Fuck adderall, who wants to be calm and focused all the time?

Anyway, I skirted through the system as a problem kid. Bad attitude, total lack of respect for authority figures. Acting out in class, the occasional violent explosion. Good grades though, at least until I realized they didn’t matter. I developed the ability to lie with conviction, which has served me well.

Note to parents: “Tell the truth and you won’t get in trouble,” is a better object lesson than interrogation tactic.

I’m very lucky autism wasn’t on educators’ radars back then, because I’m sure I’d’ve been tested, and I’d probably have landed somewhere on the spectrum. Which would have sucked. Not because autism is bad, but because they’d have labeled me and treated me accordingly, and would have given me an easy cop out for my behavior. I might not have learned important lessons like, you know, you shouldn’t viciously attack someone just because they hurt your feelings. No matter how much you want to, and no matter how good it would feel.

And all the weird shit I still pull, it’s not because of my how my brain is wired, it’s because I’m a jerk with a persecution complex who lives life on an emotional roller coaster.