When did it happen? When did I become so uncool? Was it recent or overnight?

I’d have to say it kinda snuck up on me. There was a time when I was the very image of cool. Walking into a room, foyer, atrium, or enclosed space of any kind people would look up and recognize that the definition of cool had bestowed upon them the gift of his presence.

I’d be there with my slick mp3 player, cool camera phone, comfortable clothes, a look of “Who gives a damn? You do!”, and the pungent stench of confidence.

I was the unique cool, head to toe in Adidas with scuffed shoe toes with a hint of dust on the pants which told you that I wasn’t no poser; I actually played in these clothes.

Guys would stare with jealousy as their girlfriends would watch me slide past them with my steady paced cool groove mix just barely loud enough for them to make out what it was.

The kids would point and the parents would tell them “Someday that could be you if you study and eat your vegetables.” That’s right, study…and eat your vegetables…and be cool…like me. That’s what the people wanted and slowly over time that’s what they’ve become.

People bought cell phones. They used them to call me.
People bought iPods. They used them to listen to my music.
People bought clothes to match mine. They used them to try and look good.
People bought shoes. Their feet still hurt.
People went out and played the same games that I did. Their muscles started to ache.

People tried to be me, but they failed.
They tried harder, they failed harder.

Then it dawned on them, I was cool to them, but uncool to me.

They found out that when you’re really cool, the music marches to the beat of your drum.

{You are cool to me.}