Every time I load my Live Journal page, I'm taken aback by my new icon. I don't think I've ever had a less natural photo made of me, what with the putting on of a blazer and tie, the insistence that I pose at a certain angle, and the retouching that I never requested. It's funny that the image came out so strange, since I was feeling better the day it was taken than I had on almost any day in my teens.Freshly returned from a brutally intense but illuminating "pre-college" art camp at Rhode Island School of Design, during which I'd been exposed to everything from Bad Brains to the meaning of "quim," learned how to fuck shit up with a photocopier, and lost a bunch of weight, I was more confident in myself than I'd been since we lived in Pennsylvania. I remember waiting for my session in the parking lot behind the studio on a typically steamy summer day, glorying in the prospect of having a school year in which I would present myself like the proverbial ugly duckling turned into a swan. I suppose a little of that comes through in the photograph, in the recesses of my eyes, but the overriding impression it gives me is of someone trying to look like everybody else. Maybe that's why I felt it necessary to make the other content on my yearbook page so biting.