Growing Up Is Hard

I get obsessed about stuff really easily. It’s gotten a little better as I’ve gotten older but as a teenager it was serious. It started with Pern, and I spent a long time reading the series and thinking about the series and writing fanfiction and drawing bad pictures. And then it was actors and musicians and finally whole cultures.

Each time I found one of those, it helped to shape me into the me I am right now.

There were two of those that have been really bittersweet.

At the end of the 90s there was a TV show that had approximately 12 episodes, only 8 of which aired in the US. It was about Roman-era Ireland and starred a young Australian actor by the name of Heath Ledger. Now, while I had crushes on several actual local boys at the time, the crush I had on Mr. Ledger was fairly all-consuming. At the time, nobody had any idea who he was, so I was alone in this until much later when Ten Things I Hate About You came out, at which point I was rather resentful that people were excited about somebody I’d known about for a while, and so that effectively killed that obsession.

Nonetheless, it was a horrible shock to hear about Heath Ledger’s death. It was the first time that one of my childhood idols had passed away, and I felt as though a little piece of me had gone with him. Or a piece of my youth. Or something.

After that was a lot of Highlander (I won’t go into that again), and then I discovered heavy metal music.

My parents were not excited, but there it was. And at the heart of this new obsession was a very tall, dark man with a very deep voice, and his name was Peter Steele.

I think I was more in love with this person I’d never met than I’d ever been with anyone else (and this continued until I met my husband, who was the end of that obsession). I had his picture all over my bedroom and stuck on my notebooks. It was like he was some weird giant Beatle. To this day, a character in some of my own personal creative writing still bears the name Peter, having grown out of adolescent indulgent fiction-writing.

Oh, man. I had it bad.

You know that little piece of me I said died when Heath Ledger did?

Another similar piece died this morning when I learned that Peter Steele passed away.

RIP, Mr. Steele. You helped make my young adulthood an interesting one, indeed.

(And in my nerd brain, he’s off somewhere having a crazy awesome sword battle with Duncan McLeod, because obviously this is just a front for the secret of his Immortality.)

In conclusion, Dear Mr. Adrian Paul, please live to be one hundred years old. Or older. I don’t think I can take another one of these.



About HappyGoth

By day, I'm a graphic designer. By night, I'm a knitter. I'm doing my part to keep Hotlanta stylish. I imagine that if you don't already understand the title of the blog, you're probably confused and perhaps slightly annoyed, but never fear - I do have a reason (and it's a good one). Having gone to hear Stephanie Pearl McPhee, and then having been inspired to blog about knitting, I found myself wondering what to call the blog. I recalled a conversation I had with Mouse and the Chicken Goddess about why it is a Bad Idea to anger knitters - this conversation was following SPM, aka the Yarn Harlot telling the assembled throng about Those Who Do Not Understand Knitting and Therefore Belittle It Much to the Chagrin of Others, or TWDNUKTBMCO, which is not the acronym she used but is the one I'm using because I forgot hers - that is, we are numerous and we all have very pointy sticks, easily transforming into an angry mob. Therefore, knitters = angry mob.
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3 Responses to Growing Up Is Hard

  1. Mouse says:

    *sigh* I wrote my ‘farewell to Mr.Steele’ blog post too.. I had to include a photo even though I’m sure hardly anyone who reads my blog will get why I was so obsessed with the dude.

  2. Sandy says:

    I have a serious crush on Adrian Paul. I even follow him on twitter.

    I love all the Pern books. I started reading them back in the 70’s when I was but a teenager. I still have those books. I will never give them up or away.

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