I stared straight ahead, trying to tune out the droning share of my teacher. I checked my watch again, for the second time in less than two minutes and promised myself I wouldnt look at it until the end of the period, but within minutes my eyes were weirdo back. I wasnt sure what I was waiting for anyway. To go stead? Definitely not. Having to listen to my parents ceaselessly compare me to my perfect sidekick was probably the last place I wanted to be. I would never measure up to Peters standards. At 18 he knew exactly what he wanted to do. As soon as he finished school, he was going to join the soldiers and go to Vietnam, he would then come home and go to bible college to become a minister (Baptist of course). My parents couldnt be more than proud of their eldest son who was fighting to keep them skilful from communism.
Me, on the other hand, they were less than proud of. I hadnt even out agreed to be baptized yet! They were disappointed that whizz of my only friends was a negro boy named Stevey who lived in a ghetto on the edge of town. As far as they were concern I had no direction in my life. I went to school, acquire terrible grades and came home and listened to my disturbing rock music.
They were horror-struck that I idolized the likes of Elvis Presley, who dressed so obscenely and danced in such a sexually suggestive behavior.
But really I did have direction in my life. I dreamed to leave my conservative country town where so many constraints were placed on me. I wanted to go to California, or Las Vegas, or anywhere where I could be ingenuous to express myself. I wanted...
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