The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Stereotypes plague high schools now-a-days. Youre always hearing about how one group hates another, how these kids dont talk to those kids. When did these groups come into play? When did it start to matter what kind of music you listen to, how tight your pants are, who youre dating? I thought high school was an opportunity for all teenagers to get an education, not learn whats wrong with themselves, whats wrong with their friends. It seems so there are a few main groups that are talked about these days, they are: preps, jocks, emos, Goths, punks, stoners, wiggers, and dirtys. What happened to just two groups, the greasers and socs? Who knows really, but I can tell you what I know from personal knowledge and research on what the stereotypes are, and what they should be.



Lets start with the most well known stereotypes, the preps, well here is what people from sub-cultures think preps are. Preps are the cheerleads, the prom queens, and the peppy people. They dont have a thought in their head that doesnt involve pink nail polish or Hollister. Preps are the people who date the jocks, who go to every school event of the year. Everyone thinks theyre perfect, but theyre really full of flaws. Of course they tend to be A students, though they probably just gave a poor little geek some attention to get him to do their homework for her. Preps only listen to music that is mainstream and think that they all can sing just like the singers. And to put it simply, theyre just bitches. Theyre mean and catty, no way around it. Some attempt to be something theyre not, but in all reality theyre just plastic people. People with no emotion but the ones theyve been assigned. Plastic, conformists, thats all they are.



TRUTH Preppy people arent all that bad; actually theyre rather kind and pleasant to be around. Preps do tend to shop at Hollister and other such stores, but they dont condemn any bad thoughts on people that dont. There are some preps that are rather rude and slutty but for the most part preps are just out for a good time. All smiles, yet some do have problems. A lot of preppies do come from rich back rounds but that doesnt mean everything is alright. Just remember that next time you say something bad to such a kind person.



Well, since we just went through the preps we might as well talk about the other side of them, the jocks. Heres what the stereotype is. Jock, a four letter word that means, a stupid sport obsessed popular boy that contributes little to nothing to society; mainly jocks play football and or wrestle. If youre a jock, youre ONLY allowed to hang around with slutty preps who will give you sex whenever you do so please, but youre womanizing jerks. A jock is just the schools puppet in the pursuit to be better than the competition. TRUTH A jock is a person very dedicated to sports, not only can this be by playing football, but it can also be a female playing golf. Jocks tend to perform very well in their sports and alright in others, but there are some exceptions to that like with every stereotype. The term for the jock stereotype came about when many rich boys were staring the football team because theyre parents bribed the coaches. So all athletes that are good at what they do have been labeled a jock and the sad part is, theyre just talented, not stuck up.



Now that weve learned about the two main cultures, we can start learning about the sub-cultures. (I belong to one of them, one which well talk about later) For now, we shall talk about the punk people. Heres the stereotype: Punk people will never amount to anything. All they do is back talk and vandalize everyone and everything. All they do is listen to their music, go moshing, and play guitar. All punks have Mohawks and are obsessed with The Casualties. (A punk band) They wear torn jeans and old raggedy band T-shirts. Theyre all paranoid of the government and are afraid even their friends will rat them out to the administration. All punks have bad attitudes against everyone and get drunk all the time. Theyre smart but only on devious points. Punk kids are just Goths without the black clothes. TRUTH Punk kids are actually pretty fun to be around. A lot of punk kids look scary on the outside but are actually hilarious. Out of all the sub cultures Id say punks are the ones who are most laid back, with pretty much a fuck it attitude. Like every subculture punk kids are very into their music, which mainly happens to be music from the punk rock genre, but not all of it of course. Punks are and always will be Punk Rockers, a performer or follower of punk rock music. A true punk will never stereotype themselves, or call others posers. Its all about the music, and the music is about LYRICS and ATTITUDE. Punk music is mainly anti-establishment. (A good group that is considered punk is The Ramones) Punk is a way of life, not just a style of clothes. Punks by definition, both above and socially dont want to be cool. They want to be themselves and rebel against anything they feel is suppressing them.



On to the next well-known sub-culture would have to be the Goth one. Heres what the stereotype is: Goths are evil. Plain and simple, theyre evil. Theyre mean and dont talk to anyone; they even hate other Goths. They tend to sulk around all day, but that doesnt mean they arent planning on killing everyone in sight. All Goths worship the devil, none of them believe in god. They all have no morals whatsoever and do whatever they please, when they please. Often they skip school and you can find them smoking behind the building, that or passing around a bottle of booze. They only wear black and chains and they wear black lipstick, heavy black eye make-up, and white powder all over their faces. Goths are just punks with black clothes and make up. TRUTH Goth kids are very creative and artistic. Sometimes their pain or others pain is reflected in there art, but not GIVING pain to others. They arent afraid to laugh at others or themselves, but theyre not mean people. Theyre being true to themselves, being what they know they should be; not being one of the crowd, being an individual. Goth started in the 80s as a result of the punk is dead happenings. Many people in this subculture listen to Gothic metal, but again thats not all they listen to. Goths are individuals who are creative and artistic, even though they may wear make up and black clothes.



The next group really isnt considered a subculture but I shall talk about them anyways. This is hard for me to do, and youll see why later in this article. The next group is the wiggers yo. Heres the stereotype: This wont take very long. A wigger is a white boy acting like a black ghetto kid. (Or girl I suppose, but at my school the girls are called dirties but its not at every school so for the sake of argument Ill put them in this section) Usually wiggers come from an upper-class home where they can have whatever they want, but they decide to act ghetto becausewell I really have no idea. Wiggers are just pathetic attempts to fit in and be a badass. TRUTH Now Im not going to deny the fact that a lot of wiggers are just white boys trying to be black because thats really what they are. There are the ghetto kids and the wiggers; I suppose the wiggers are just the posers of the ghetto kids. In which there are white kids, they just come from a different back round. Many of the real ghetto white kids grew up around the ghetto black kids, its what they know; its where theyre from. Its all about where you grew up and who youve been around your whole life. White boys that live in suburbia, wigger, white boys that grew up in the da hood, ghetto.



And now for the last stereotype that Ill be talking about today, the one that I belong to, the Emo kids. Heres the stereotype: Emo kids are just people that cry a lot and have fake personalities. The guys: They wear tight girl pants and ripped up chucks. Theyre all anorexic so you can see their ribs. When you look at their arms theyre covered in scars from when they cut themselves because their girlfriends broke up with them. (Or boyfriends) Emo guys are always bi and make out with guys just to impress girls. All Emo guys wear fake lip rings to impress girls and sit in corners and cry about everything. They all play guitar and write pathetic songs about being dumped. Emo girls: Dykes. Now for both, both wear heavy eyeliner and scarves even in the summer. Most Emo kids wear thick-rimmed glasses and if they dont need them they wear cosmetic ones. All Emo kids have black comb-overs with hair that spikes in the back, or at least have a comb-over with long hair; there is no in-between. Emo kids think they listen to unknown music even though its played on mtv. I dont understand why Emo kids are so upset all the time, they come from high class homes where they get whatever they want. Emo is just another term for faggot. TRUTH Emo kids are very sensitive. Most of them are what we like to call indigo children. (I will include a website at the end of the article in indigo color font so you can learn more if youre not familiar.) Emo children are very artistic and creative, and also very perceptive. Since theyre so much more sensitive than other people, they feel emotion so deeply; which makes them at higher risk to cut, or get an eating disorder. Often they dont even realize theyre becoming Emo until its pointed out to them. True Emo kids can laugh at the pathetic stereotype thats been put on them; people can think what they want about them. A life of an Emo kid is about music, plain and simple. When an Emo kid is moshing theyre in heaven, well the hXc (hardcore) Emo kids anyway. There is far more than one type of Emo kid; there are the hardcore Emo kids, the depressed Emo kids, and the indie Emo kids. Hardcore Emo kids love to go moshing. Depressed Emo kids prefer to kind of lay-low, and indie Emo kids love alternative styles aka very laid back Emo music. Now not all Emo kids fit in these threes categories, like every stereotype everyone is their own person at heart. Emo is short for emotional, so instead of hating them for being who they are, love them for what they stand for.



Now that weve gone through all the stereotypes that I feel the need you should know about (I left out (mind you these are what theyre called by my peers) Nerds, Geeks, Band Geeks, Orch Dorks, and Choir Queers.) I can start to show you how all of these high school stereotypes come together. To make this easier for you, the reader, Im going to put these into bullets.







1) Jocks only hang out with preps



2) Preps only speak to jocks and people with money.



3) Punk kids resent Goth kids.



4) Goth kids hate Emo kids



5) Jocks hate Emo kids



6) Preps want to have sex with Emo boys but hate Emo girls. Or they think that boys in girl pants are sickening.



7) Emo kids like Goth kids and all music kids and theatre kids.



8) Goth kids dont understand why punks are so upset with them, nor do they care.



9) Preps use nerds and geeks.



10) Wiggers hate the Emo kids with all the hatred in the world.



11) Emo kids laugh at wiggers and make fun of them extensively.



12) All of this, makes high school a place where kids dont want to be.







Im about to put some things into perspective here. One group hates another because of how much their parents make. One group hates another because of something that happened in the 80s. One group hates another because theyre not the rebellious ones anymore. One group uses another groupand it just goes on from there. How did this happen? Well I can bring it all down to one point, my cynical view point mind you but it can be done. (For the subcultures that is) Go with me here, again Ill put it in bullets







1) Teenagers were split into two groups. People with money and people without money. People with money were socialites and people without were low-lives. Socs were conformists, greasers didnt follow the crowd, and they fought for what they believed.



2) The administration did the whole Vietnam thing. And the establishment just wasnt working for teenagers of America. So the whole crowd of people that didnt believe in war, that were fighting for a new establishmentwell it created the punk scene. But it wasnt only that, it was kids finally stepping away from what society wanted them to be, they became individuals.



3) In the early 80s the punk scene was starting to die, but that didnt stop these kids. Some of them (Mainly the creative artistic ones) broke off from being punk and became what we call now-a-days Goth.



4) So Punk kids were of revolution, and Goth kids were of art. But then grunge came along, they also came off of punk. A more hate filled punk I think, but then again I could be wrong. This was in the late 80s.



5) Then after awhile a group broke off from the Goth group, the sensitive kids. Kids with artistic ability and sensitivity, these kids are now known as Emo kids.







Its kind of funny that the normal culture kind of stayed the same but the underground cultures changed dramatically, its something to think about. Every one of these groups has their own purpose, without them school would become boring. And I mean, I know this may seem complicated, but its not complicated, its high school.

looked down at my paper, it was impregnated with doodles. I know I was supposed to write down my goals, dreams, successes, but I’d rather just draw line after line after line. I sighed. This was my first full day in a psychiatric hospital; I had been admitted last night. When I say admitted I mean I sat in the emergency room for 3 hours, and then security escorted me up to my room, cell, whatever you want to call it. Anyways, I had a decent nights sleep, it was nothing special; your average get up at 2 in the morning to pee nights sleep. I was woken, well shaken awake at 8 am, breakfast time. I had picked at my food but didn’t’ consume must. I just wanted to go back to sleep. But this brings us to where I am now, sitting in group therapy. There were 3 girls in there with me, for now we’ll call them Girl A, Girl B, and Girl C. Girl A was a little plump but had a smile that glimmered. Her mousy brown hair is tied back loosely. She’s more of the promiscuous type, you could tell by just looking at her. But she was very enjoyable nonetheless. Girl B was the quiet type. She had a decent length dark blonde hair, when the light flickered off it you’d become enamored by it. She’s smiling at me now that makes me light up on the inside. Anyways, Girl C was just plain strange; I’ll let you imagine her. Blah, to continue with group.

We had to write down our goals for the day; I couldn’t think of one. All I could think about was Girl B, how she was looking at me. But then I started to realize a girl like her could never like a guy like me. I sighed again. Each of us then told our stories of why we were detained, all three were talked about suicide cases, mine was a little different. I had tried to strangle myself with my tie in the principle’s office. She had seen the deep gashes on my arms and legs and decided to bring me in. Which brings us to me screaming “I’ll fucking kill myself” at her. So basically, she chaptered me, which is mega lame.

Anyways, that was the end of group. We all went into our separate rooms. I didn’t enjoy my room, the pale pink walls with tacky border. There were two beds, two dressers, a small table and two chairs in my room; it was nothing special. Starring at the wall all I could think about was her, Girl B. She made me feel so good about myself. When she told me how she wanted me to live…I…I…I couldn’t help but smile. She made my life right now, well bearable. Even though I had only spent 15 minutes with her, her beauty, inside and out, has infected me.

I snuck out of my room and sat by her door; she was sleeping. I smiled. I starred at her for a while, I couldn’t take it anymore. I look down at the protuberance in my pants, I had to fix it. After I came out of the bathroom, relieved, it was time for another group. Apparently, it was time for art there. I was excited to be able to make something for my angel. I decided to make her a necklace. I know it’s childish but it’s really all I had. I quietly asked her what her favorite colors were, she said gray and purple. I walked over to the bead drawer and attempted to pick out the most just what the doctor ordered beads. I think I did pretty damn well, if I do say so myself. I went back to my chair and sat down; bead-by-bead I started making a masterpiece. I don’t know why it was so great, it just was. When I was finally done I put it around her neck. Feeling her sensuous skin made me weak everywhere. I wanted to kiss her, bad. She giggles when I put it around her, her giggle was adorable. She told me that it ticked. I smiled again, she always makes me smile.

After art therapy was over we went back into the day room. The dayroom was the main gathering room in our ward. It had a TV, puzzles, games, tables, chairs and other such things. It was pleasant. I decided to sit in there and talk with her. She told me about why she wanted to die, about her family. Her father had beaten and raped her. She couldn’t handle it. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it either. She started crying. I didn’t really know how to handle that. It was like watching an angel getting their wings bitten off. I tried to comfort her, but I couldn’t’ stop her tears. I held her close for nearly two hours, with the exception of when we had to eat. When I was holding her I realized that I loved her. I wanted to tell her so badly, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I just stayed in the moment. By the time she was done crying it was time for rec activity. We walked down to the room with the pool table, still talking. We decided to play a game, but for me it was a game of seduction. No longer was I afraid of being turned down. I know she liked me, and I know I wanted her.

I broke. I got stripes, she got solids, we danced around the pool table. I was winning. It made me feel like a man, winning something. She asked if I could help her shoot better. There went my confidence. I went up behind her and wrapped my arms around her; I grabbed to pool stick from her slender hands. I could feel her warmth all over my body. I told her to close her eyes so she could feel be movement better. But I really just wanted to look down and see her succulent breasts. I snapped myself out of it and showed her hot to shoot. Then she turned around, she looked down and giggled. I looked down to see what she saw, I was petrified. I couldn’t believe this happened to me, not again. I ran back to my room and fixed the problem. When I came out she was there, starring at me. She smiled. She walked up to me and hugged me. It felt good. She told me that it was all right and that she wasn’t upset. We walked, hand in hand, back to the dayroom. I sat close to her. I was engulfed by her essence, the smell called me. My courage was back. I got as close to as I could to her without you know you what happening. I’m getting nervous. I put my lips next to her ear, I want to kiss it but instead I whisper “I love you,” she smiles at me and says, “I love you too.” I couldn’t believe it. Girl B had just upgraded to Aynee. She became my first girlfriend.

Things went well for the next day or two. I kissed her the first time the next day, during rec time. Her lips felt like the icing on a cake, smooth and appetizing. I’ll never forget it, but the next day is when it happened. It was during art therapy. I went to get reeds for the basket I was waking. I was smiling. Then I overheard Aynee say to Girl A, “He told me he loved me, isn’t that gross?”

“Totally.”

I dropped my reeds and gaze at her. She glared at me and laughed. I ran out of there and into my room. A new arrival was in the bed next to mine. He was sleeping. He was beautiful, that Johnny Depp look penetrated him. His black hair covered his left eye. He wore a Taking Back Sunday T-shirt and a pair of tight jeans, my type exactly. I sat silently on my bed and beamed my eyes at him. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to share a room with him. I looked up at the door, there stood Aynee. She was crying, again. I walked up to her and drape my arms around her and told her that it was all right. She said she was going to go home today and that I would never see her again. Tears started slithering down my pale face. She left my arms and me. I went back to my bed and started to cry, I missed her already.

Boy A woke up from my crying, he introduced himself as Ian. It was an average name but it would come to mean so much to me. He sat there with me for a while. His mix of musk and cheap cologne intoxicated me, it was a nice aroma. He comforted me; it was pleasurable. I found out quite a bit about Ian. He was a kind young man with a passion for the arts. The reason he had been admitted is because he tried to kill himself. Which made me rather sad knowing someone so beautiful almost died. Spending time with him made me feel better. His soft voice made shivers go down my spine. I liked it. But our next group came up, when I was talking he started rubbing an orange slice over his cuts. I started to cry; I stood up and told him to stop. He looked at me with tears in his eyes, he screamed, “I LOVE YOU!” and ran into our room and slammed the door. I was shocked. I didn’t know what to do. Did I love him? Was I over Aynee? I didn’t’ really know.

I stayed in the dayroom for a while and thought. After about an hour, Ian joined me. His make-up was running down his face. He walked up to me and hugged me tensely. I stroked his hair; it was soft and innocent like. I didn’t’ know whether or not I loved him yet, but I knew I would eventually. He was such a compassionate, loving person. You couldn’t help but be happy around him. He put his cheek against mine; it felt good, really good. But most of all it felt right. I took his hands and stood up with him. I put his right hand in my left, his left around my neck and my right around his waist. He started to ask what I was doing. I put my finger up to his mouth and said, “Shh.” We danced for about an hour, until we had yet another group. Ian and I sat close to each other. He and I found out that he was going home tomorrow. My newfound love, leaving. I was devastated. I decided rather than dwelling on it that I should cherish the time I had left with him.

After this particular group we had red activity. It was a weekend night so it was for about 4 hours, 6-10 pm. During that time we were conjoined at the pelvis and tongue. I couldn’t’ keep away from him. He was holding me from behind as we swayed back and forth. His warmth made me feel so alive. His touch made me long for more. I love his attention. I turned around and kissed him. Then I looked straight into his eyes and said “I love you too.” We embraced. At this, I had forgotten about Aynee. That was until I saw her walk back onto the unit, she had been readmitted. I was astonished. What had gone wrong? Was she alright? I shook my head and looked back at Ian. I told him to excuse me for a minute. I skiddadled across the room to talk to Aynee, she seemed upset. She told me that she had tried to kill herself because of what she did to me. I was kind of weirded out, when did I ever mean that much? It sounded like she was being a drama queen, but I comforted her nonetheless. I couldn’t believe this was happening, who was I suppose to choose? The answer came quickly to me.

“Aynee? We need to talk.”

”About what darling?”

“I can’t be with you, you left me already and broke my heart. Plus, I’ve fallen in love with Ian.”

“Who the fuck is Ian?”

I pointed over at Ian. “See that boy over there, he’s my man.”

Aynee goes up to Ian and slaps him. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. I told her to stop and stood between the two of them. Her eyes started to glisten, she ran into her room and fell on her bed. Ian looked at me and asked what was going on. I told him the whole story of Aynee. He was mortified. He couldn’t believe that such a thing had happened to me only a few days before. I hugged him.

The rest of the night we avoided Aynee. After 10 it was time to go to bed, but Ian and I couldn’t sleep. He sat on my bed next to me and took my hand, he told me he loved me. I told him I loved him too. Then he started to kiss me. He was a gentle kisser, I liked it. But what we did that night didn’t stop there. That night Ian and I made love for the first and the last time. He left that morning. I was distraught. I absolutely couldn’t believe that my darling, my love was gone forever.

I miss him even to this day. I hardly ever think about Aynee but Ian, well I think about him quite a bit. He called me last week to see how I was doing but that brings us to a whole other story. For now, this story is done. My name is Adrian, and I was in a psychiatric hospital.