Chapter One: Breaking the Rules

Have you ever complained to either parent, “I’m bored”, only to get that frustrating response, “Go read a book”? So we ask for a comic book, or one of those useless magazines with photos of the newest adolescent vocalist in his swimming pool. Of course, when we ask, the answer is no. But if you simply pick up that book or magazine, it’s all fine. It’s a vicious cycle. No matter what we do, no matter what we read, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we appear to be getting some kind of an education.

Deception is a handy device. Take a look at this chapter title. This chapter, in fact, has nothing to do with rules, or with breaking them. It’s an attention-grabber. Within these pages, I will merely do what most of us sane teenagers do best: whine in cynical tones. Don’t cry, emo boys, you know it’s true.

Though, there is only so far you can go with deception before it starts ruining things. Literature, for example, has gone completely down the drain. Today, I went to a book-store, that sacred house of literary genius. Aside from Shakespeare and Steinbeck, the only thing for young adults (aside from American Girl books like “Coconut’s Day Out”) was an aisle filled with highly-textured, brightly-colored covers. Apparently that’s the only way to capture our interest. This was degrading enough. But what really got me was when I looked at some of the titles. “First Kiss.” “Last Embrace.” “Forbidden Boy”. Forbidden Boy? Just one? How interesting is that?

So my fellow teenagers, is this what it’s come down to? The only books written for people our age are sappy romance stories with first sentences like, “Carrie knew Drew liked her when he first tucked a rose petal in her locker”? 30 pages, large font, bright flashy colors that scream, “LOOK AT ME!”, and poor grammar?

Personally, I am against it.

I think that we need to bond together and save the right to good literature for this young generation. Or else, learn to cope with the fact that in 30 years, Barney will be a guest speaker at Harvard.

For my part, I’m writing this – a book with no particular plot or purpose other than that of pure entertainment, and maybe a tad bit of commiseration. These are my thoughts as I go through life. Perhaps you’ve shared some?