AGE: 18
POSTMARK: PENNSYLVANIA

This week’s exercise:

We all have them…those daydream versions of ourselves who don’t care what anyone else says or thinks, who don’t care about repercussions or reputations, who never play it safe, who “speak up,” who act fearlessly (even recklessly), who are, for lack of a better word, “rebels.”  Where is this rebel version of yourself right now, and what are they doing?  (As always, just aim for one vivid, well-developed scene, and have fun with it!)


47 responses to “"Fall in Love with the Boy Your Parents Warned You About."”

  1. Larry Iaccio says:

    The rebel version of myself is out on the road with my band and my girl, not caring about anyone or anything besides playing his music. I am not in school, just going from gig to gig every night playing a different venue, a different crowd, all across the country. I have no financial security in my future and to be honest, I really don’t care as long as I’m doing what I love with the people I love. If people don’t like our music, then that sucks for them, I won’t change for anybody, and everyone knows that. Basically the rebel version of myself is doing what he loves, not caring about anything besides the present and loving each and every day because it is different and exciting, almost the complete opposite of my real life.

  2. Siya Brown says:

    The rebel version of myself would say bye bye Med School, hello world! I would probably rob local corner stores because I know they don’t have alarm systems to save me the trouble of having to go to work. Then I would pack up my things, grab my girls and go on a cross country trip, making friends at every major university and partying all night long. Of course I will wear something fabulous every night so in every picture I take I will look a star and then use those pics to create a live feed of my own awesomeness via Facebook and Twitter. Then I would drive to Hollywood and work on my acting career. The real me is actually pretty good at acting so the rebel me is a trillion times better of course. After pounding the pavement for several months I would land my first major role with someone amazing like Johnny Depp but politely decline to pursue my life long dream of becoming the next Oprah Winfrey. I would probably get a million No’s before I get a Yes but the rebel in me wouldn’t get discouraged. I wouldn’t stop until I was the next host sitting in Harpo Studios. Finally, to top it all off, my rebel self would write a book about my life expressing my true feelings about any situation I had every been in, good or bad, and not caring how many people get hurt in the process. I would probably reveal secrets, bash my father for not being there, encourage under-aged drinking every once in a while (just to take the edge off), and explain my very long and hard road to fame.

    -After re-reading this, I’ve realized that I am much better off with my normal self. So don’t judge me. That was the rebel talking!

  3. Nick Gangi says:

    The rebel version of myself is moving out of my house into my own apartment. I am the type of person that always follows what my parents tell me to, so moving out would be a huge rebellion for me to get away and do my own thing. I am also a very neat and organized person, so my apartment would be as messy as physically possible. I would have a room dedicated to music and I would go all out and buy a drum set with everything that I have ever wanted. I would also dedicate a room to electronics to fulfill my passion for them. I would have a 7.1 home theatre system with a projector and large screen on a wall. Hooked up to this would be an Xbox 360, Playstation 3, and Nintendo Wii. I would also build my own computer and put it at a desk in this room. Against the wall would be a leather couch and heated chair. This goes against my frivolous nature. Although I would be out of my house and away from my parents, the rebel me would still stay in contact with them and spend time with them. I would just be on my own and be able to do my own thing.

  4. Spencer Reid says:

    My eldest brother is one of the few men I look up to when it comes to certain things. So anything he says I take to heart because he is my brother and I believe that if your family cannot tell you the truth than who can. Keeping all of this in mind when I saw my brother for the first time since I have been in college. He immediately came at me with a verbal comment to get under my skin. Attacking something that is close to me and I take very serious. My initial reaction was to punch him in his face or say something that he would never expect me to say. But I did not punch him in the face because that would have got us nowhere and instead I eternalize it. I push it away and pretend like nothing was even said even though deep down inside I know this comment made me so mad. This specifically describes a time when I wish I was” rebel” or that I just did not care. Being a person that cares so much about everything I do, makes it easy for me to think about a time when I just wish I could be a “rebel” and say what I really would like to say.

  5. Shilpa Shegu says:

    The rebel version of myself would most likely be doing everything and anything I could against my culture. Don’t get me wrong, I love/respect my culture- but going against all the beliefs, traditions, and culture would be a surprising act of me. I would drive off to California with my closest friends and try and pursue a job in fashion/modeling. I would not have a worry in the world about anything and everything. I would wake up and go to bed while being stress-free in life. I would be on my own with my favorite people doing what I love to do, live life to its fullest.

  6. Miguel Martinez says:

    Taking risks in any situation is what a view a rebel to be. When I picture the rebel version of myself all of my actions would have to be out of the ordinary. The way I dress would be completely different. I would break away from what is socially acceptable and would most likely be judged as either weird, or a trendsetter. But being judged is not something that the rebel me would worry about. I would walk without the notion of embarrassment and would be more inclined to try new things. I would do more things on my own and not rely on other for approval. Breaking away from my comfort zone would be critical. For example, if I believe I know the answer in class, instead of second guessing myself and sitting quietly in my seat, I would instead proceed to voice my thoughts. My version of a rebel sounds like it has all positive aspects, but to every positive there is a negative. Sometimes not standing out is the best approach in certain situations. The rebel me would constantly demand attention, but being in the spotlight creates problems. All eyes would be on me and if for some reason I were to slip up everyone would catch it. I believe that a happy medium between me and my rebel version would contribute some added interest in my life.

  7. Marcus Richardson says:

    The rebel version of myself is somewhere around the world, just living, day to day. I would have no long-term goals and just live an extremely simple life. Yea, it’s a tad cliché but still awesome. I always think about what it would be like if I had the courage to go against the grain of society and do my own thing but then I’m brought back to reality by the thought of my parents. You see, my parents are fairly strict and if i voiced a single thought of doing something ‘crazy’ and/or ‘different’ to them, I’d get the most terrifying death stare ever (mainly from my mother).
    It’s funny how such a simple action, such as a death stare, can completely inhibit my thoughts of dissent. That’s just the way it is…at least for now.

  8. Chad McCLoskey says:

    I feel like I am a person who is a rebel. A person who “goes against the grain.” When I believe in something, I stand up for it and voice my opinion. I think i get this trait from my father. He is Irish, and does have a bit of a temper. But he is the type of man, who does not care what anyone says or think’s about him. If he thinks something is right or wrong, you will hear about it. He kind of wear’s his emotions on his sleeve. I think this is how I can be. Most people will be conservative in voicing their beliefs, afraid of what people may think. I personally, do not hesitate to do this at all. From some of my freinds back home, they say I have that “who gives a shit attitude.” I know this can be bad in certain situations. But I take pride in this, standing up for what I believe in.

  9. Emily Croke says:

    My rebel self is partially who I am on a normal basis but also who I am more so when I am not in my school setting. I am an outspoken person who likes to say what is on my mind. I will say what I want to and not care what other people do in reaction. I am not an offensive person however, I am not going to lie. When my sister was shopping for her prom dresses she asked me to come along because she knew I would tell her the truth about the dresses she was picking out. I am a fun loving person and am always evolved in activities. I am required to have a lot of energy which helps me be more outgoing and eager to be engaged in activities. I am more willing to take risks because as a person looking for a job, I need to be a little more willing to take risks. My risky side is someone who is out spoken and willing to walk into the dark and not knowing what to expect, so maybe I am just a rebellious person.

  10. Luckym Dinh says:

    The rebel version of myself is very much alive. It exists at this very moment. It is not the worst kind of rebellion but it does have a huge impact on my life. This rebel version of myself that I am talking about is my procastination side. Homework is not a deaily priority for me. This mode of thinking is terrible. It causes me to do work last minute. Cramming and drinking coffee after midnight has been a way of living for me lately.

  11. Darian says:

    My rebel self would be acting like a child. I’m really only about 6 and a half at heart. I would bake cookies and cupcakes all day and then go out to dinner at night and color on the kids menu. When it rains i could put on rain boots and jump in all the puddles. I do everything that adults think is silly and i would laugh all day. I love being an adult and having good conversation and all that, but to just act stupid and have nothing to worry about except to remember to breath when you laugh, that would be awesome.

  12. Oishika Vaid says:

    The rebel version of me… ah! well, that is a part of me hidden within me. It is a part of me that cannot be awakened that easily. Even I don’t know what my rebellious me might be. Maybe a singer, or an animal lover, or maybe even a bike racer… I don’t know. But one thing I know for a fact is that I am an adventurous sort. I’d love to spend my time diving in the beautiful ocean that has so much to offer, I’d love to spend my time singing Bryan Adams and James Blunt, I’d love to spend my time rafting at higher levels and I could just go on. But I would not spend much time on studying because that is not me… I’d much rather do something I enjoy doing and making my hobby into my profession however, life does not work like that… Making your hobby your profession is not always a wise option, as life does not work that way. Thus at times it is best when “the rebellious you” is hidden. Thus at times making your profession your hobby is the only way to succeed in life.

  13. Andy Wells says:

    Much of my life is lived with the constant fear of repercussion. In general, this fear guides my actions and has a positive impact on my life. I am able to recognize that certain actions are by no means worth the trouble they cause. My rebel self is missing this sense.

    The first thing that usually pops into my head when I get angry is to destroy something. It doesn’t matter what the object is; I just want to obliterate it. The more expensive and valuable the item is, the better it will make me feel to ruin it. I understand that breaking things only offers temporary relief from stress and ultimately will only cause more problems. For example, if I were to suddenly get pissed off as I type this now, this destructive temptation would come and pass in a matter of seconds.

    However, my rebel self would take swift action and no doubt do something stupid. I rise to my feet. Holding my laptop in both my hands, I bash it into my thigh as hard as I possibly can. I attack the weak spot, smashing the backside of the joint over and over again. Plastic snaps and shoots across the library as people begin to stare. The screen goes black. I let out a loud string of curses and I finish separating the two halves with brute force. Wires hang from the wreckage. I drop the bottom half of the laptop toward my foot and punt it with all my might. It flies toward the surprised students across the room. Without bothering to see where it lands, I turn around and hurl the other half like a tomahawk at the approaching librarian. The screen shatters as it narrowly misses and crashes into a pillar. Panting, I realize that I may have made a slight mistake.

  14. Rachel Beecher says:

    The rebel version of myself is screaming at the top of her lungs, while actually hiding behind lack of eye contact and walking the other way down the street.
    There is a guy who I share a wall with in my dorm. This guy is a terrible, horrendous singer who thinks he is somehow talented at his guitar and thinks his voice and undeveloped songs sound “good.” I would like to point out his Twitter description says, “Most likely to be famous,” so he’s cocky about it to, not just deluded.
    Every morning, I wake up to him either blasting music that I hate with every fiber of my being, or singing and accompanying himself on the guitar. It irks me so much. I wouldn’t mind it so much if I couldn’t hear it or maybe if it was decent. But no, he screams as though his vocal chords cannot form sound afterwards.
    He also feels as though he is entitled to everything and everything that is happening in the world is about him. For example, I wrote on his room’s whiteboard to leave a note for his roommate. He then crossed it out and put, “No one cares.”
    I’m sorry for leaving a nice note…? Not to mention he left a mean note on my door today when I did absolutely nothing!
    The R.A. has talked to him and had floor meetings to acknowledge these issues because he does this with everyone, but I guess it’s just not getting through his head.
    Rebel Rachel will walk up to his door, and knock with a purpose. I will look him in the eye and say, “Stop being a dick. Yes, you don’t like me, and I hate you with every fiber of my being. Just stop being an ass. I’ve done nothing to you. There are no redeeming qualities in your personality to make you cocky, so get over yourself. You suck at singing and playing the guitar. We have a floor rule that if you can hear it in the next room it’s too loud, on top of the fact quiet hours don’t end till 10 am. So don’t play anything until then and lower your shrieking please.” I would turn to leave, then remember to add, “Oh, by the way, you should stop Tweeting about how much your life sucks and that Twitter is your only friend. It’s kind of pathetic and makes it true. Maybe if you were nicer and less conceited, you would have friends. Thanks!” Then I would watch his perfectly, satisfying blank look: mouth open, doe eyed face; and march off with a smile on my face.

  15. Amanda Plaksin says:

    In a way, I already am a rebel just being myself. I don’t listen to other people’s comments and speak my mind when I feel like I am being shorthanded. However, there are those awkward times that I wish I could say or act a certain way but can’t in fear of being politically incorrect or just a plain old bitch. One of these times is when I see my old roommate around campus. Her and I didn’t get along from the start, but we acted very superficially toward each other until the fight that forced her to move out. On the day she was packing I wasn’t in the room. The next day I returned to joyfully see half my room empty. I spent a few minutes moving the furniture around and reorganizing. However, when I went into the bathroom, I noticed the shower curtain that the four of us as suitemates had bought together had mysteriously disappeared. I asked my suitemate, who was the only other person in our room, if she knew what happened to it, and she told me she was also not in the room the day before. Getting an idea of who took it, I texted my now ex-roommate to she if she’d fess up. All I got was more superficial, sorority girl stupid above-it-all-thinking-I’m-really-that-stupid-response of, “Oh Gee, I Don’t Know What Happened To It”. Yeah. Right. Days went by when I kindly questioned her and she continued to deny that she took our $25 shower curtain, and to this day when I see her on campus I am furious.
    The rebel in me would probably resort to some violent tactics because that’s how I am when I get angry. However, I would march up to her the next time I saw her and demand money for the curtain, because really I’m not dumb enough to think it disappeared out of our bathroom on its own. I’d threaten to not deliver her her mail that has been accumulating in my mailbox for weeks if she didn’t either return the shower curtain or pay me and my suitemate our shares.

    The rebel in me gets angry when I don’t get my way.

  16. Molly Driscoll says:

    I would love if I could find a way to let my rebel- self shine through. A rebel is a person who enjoys risk and enjoys pushing the envelope. I am not someone who likes to do either of those things. I wish it weren’t that way though, I can be so uptight and anxious I wonder why I can’t just let loose and follow my inner-rebel. Taking risks is so thrilling and there are so many times I tell myself “Oh! I want to do that!” or “I will do that one day”. But, I really know none of it will ever happen. I am such a cautious and worrisome person. Now, don’t get me wrong I do love to go out and have fun and enjoy life. But, when it comes to things that are dangerous or cause me to get that nervous pit in my stomach, I tend to completely back off. I feel as though my inner rebel would be indulging in any and every opportunity available, despite possible dangers or risk factors. Rebel Molly is sky diving and bungee jumping and not taking crap from anyone. Actual Molly is petrified of heights and avoids confrontation at all cost.
    I also care WAY too much about what people think about me. I envy the people who can shake off the negative comments and go through life only caring about what they think of themselves. I always get the feeling that I am such a doormat, and rightly so because I kind of am. I don’t like to admit it, but I do let people walk all over me sometimes. I don’t mean to let it happen but, it just does. I know it’s bad when I ask my two best friends if they think I’m a pushover and they say with no hesitation, “Oh hell yes”. They are always telling me I need to stick up for myself, but I guess I just find it easier to keep my mouth shut and have people like me, then stick up for myself. My inner-rebel would not stand for any of that. Rebel Molly doesn’t deal with any of this pushover stuff; she’s just basically a bad ass.

  17. Kelley Hey says:

    My rebel self would take a break from school and go traveling across the nation. I love being on the road and I have always had an urge to travel to all 50 states. At each state, I would try something new, whether it be a food that the state is known for or an odd museum a state has, I would try it, just to gain new life experiences. I would love just exploring each state and not having to worry about schoolwork. My rebel self would also like to travel on a motorcycle, not for all of the trip, but for at least a little bit of it. I have always wondered what it would feel like to ride a motorcycle down a highway with the wind blowing through your hair, it seems like it would be such a freeing feeling. My rebel self would also not care about what anyone what thinks at all and would be a free spirit. I would dress in all leather, wear knee high boots, and dye the tips of my hair purple. All in all, my rebel self would be a freer, more adventurous person than my real self.

  18. Emily Moyer says:

    “All five horizons revolved around her soul, as the earth to the sun. Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn…”

    Black by Pearl Jam plays from her computer.

    “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

    I stare into my best friend’s eyes. Blink.

    “Lets go. Just up and leave. Call work and quit. Right now, do it.”

    Her green eyes shift back and forth, trying to read me. “Ha, yeah right Steph would kill me.”

    Steph, her boss, I don’t give a shit about her. All I know is that I need to leave. I need to leave anything familiar behind me. Except for of course, her. Chelsea has been my only real friend. No one cares about me the way she does and visa-versa.

    We always talked about leaving our lives behind to live a drifter’s life together. One car. Different motel room every night. Different guys. Never staying in one place for too long. Why not? Why not just try it? Just this once, disobey and not give a shit about what our families say. Ignore the guilt trips.

    I give her a look that only she can read. “You’re serious…” She whispers.

    “Remember the night before I left for Temple we spent the night at Holly Glenn park just sitting on the swings and looking at the stars just talking about conspiracy theories, aliens, the corrupt government and how we couldn’t trust anyone but each other even though we thought we could be the product of each other’s imagination for all we knew…why can’t every night be like that? We could just leave. Get those guys we always wanted. Leave and then find some more.” I laugh and look at her. She’s giggling. It almost looks like she doesn’t have braces in the dim light.

    “Oh so now you want to do all this. What happened to being practical?” She bites.

    “I know, I just…I’m tired of this.” I gesture to her checkerboard walls as if her room summed up all of our eighteen years in that small town.

    “Me too.” She says.

    My eyes locked on her, hopeful, but she looks down. Her natural dirty blonde hair falling over her eyes. “But you know we can’t. You said it yourself once.”

    “You’re right. I wish I hadn’t.” I sigh and close my eyes and lay back onto her floor.

    Suddenly she gently kicks me in the side. “Get up. Lets go to Holly Glenn.” She smiles lightly at me. “Just cause we can’t do it now doesn’t mean we can’t do it later. We can plan it.” With that she walks out of her room.

    I smile knowing that later won’t come but at least we’ll still have each other in the midst of trying to get there.

    “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, know you’ll be a sun in somebody else’s sky…”

    Vedder’s sad song echoes as I close her bedroom door behind me.

  19. Richard Chen says:

    When I imagine my rebel-self, I am surrounded in a loud, dark environment where the only light source is a strobe light casting its intermittent, blinding rays. My rebel-self is a bartender, concocting neon blue drinks with bright red cherries and cute toothpick umbrellas. I don’t drink, but I always thought it would be cool to learn bartending skills. I always wanted that flair, a form of “showboating” that would be a hit at parties.
    Every time I see ads for bartending schools around campus, my curiosity sparks. I daydream about wearing stylish attire – a crisp dress shirt, an attractive skinny tie – and tossing up liquor bottles – catching them only to pour its contents accurately and precisely in three tiny shot glasses, ultimately setting them on fire. I see myself getting lots of tips – Hamiltons and Jacksons coming my way (I’ve never been to a bar, but my “bad-ass” self works in a high end one. I can dream, can’t I?). In those thoughts, I have the ability to create any cocktail known to man, and then some. In those thoughts, I can fuse ingredients of my choice to produce award winning, trend setting drinks. I can create fun, colorful drinks that mimic the rainbow. I can create sophisticated drinks of musky and bitter notes, only to be appreciated by the finest of palates. My focus is unwavering and my hands move in a flurry. I shake the sleek, silver bullet cocktail mixer in a rhythm that can never be imitated. At the end of the day, as my rebel-self cleans up the bar, he relaxes methodically like a professional athlete after a big game. Celebrities approach to offer me positions at their premiere events and private parties. A tiny smile appears.
    Being the the best bartender ever, I actually have the confidence and arrogance to reject some of their offers. In my daydreams, I’m my own celebrity. I do whatever I want to do. I travel to exotic places, demonstrating my amazing talent. That’s all imaginary though. I would love to learn how to mix drinks, and that’s just the beginning of a daydream. The rest are thoughts fueled by my inner rebel – waiting to be unleashed.

  20. Kevin Bernstein says:

    In first week of my junior year of high school I had to write a poem that reflected who I was as a person, I did this subconsciously. I had to read a published well-known poem and write my own version of it. Meaning taking the similar stanzas but replace the lines with your own personal creativity. I didn’t really think, I just wrote and hoped for the best. The next day in school my teacher had the class set up in a big circle and with her eyes closed evaluated each poem very closely and carefully. Without knowing a single student, she listened and would say what she thought of the poem. Each evaluation was completely different and I was nervous when the time came to evaluate mine. I nervously and anxiously read my poem…….silence. My teacher took a good minute or two to think about what she was going to say. The next words that came out of her mouth have followed me until this very day. She said “you are full of life, creativity, you live life to the fullest and always avoid confrontation. However, you lack the ability to do the things you truly set out your heart to do.” I never thought of it but she was right. I always think of trips, places to go, and amazing things to do but I never follow through. Granted most of the things I wanted to do cost a lot of money and I’m still young however, I still always feel a bit of regret. If I were a real bad ass, I would postpone my college degree and first take a 3 month road trip around the U.S. just exploring, meeting people, and experiencing what life as to offer. Next I would go all over the world, money wouldn’t be an issue because I would use whatever was in my pocket to get to the next place I wanted to go. And when I completely run out, I would stay in one place for a bit until I had enough to leave. I would say what I was really thinking to a lot of people’s faces without worry of how it hurt them. And lastly, on my adventurous trips, if I would to see someone I thought was attractive in anyway, I would have all the guts in the world and be able to approach them with a ton the confidence. I would do what I can so that when I die i leave behind a legacy that inspires people to follow their dreams and desire. Although since that day I’ve been seizing a lot more opportunities than I ever had. For example I kissed the lead singer of the band LIGHTS by just simply walking up and saying “hey can i take a picture kissing you?” Her response “Lay one on me.” So honestly being a badass really does pay off in the end if you have the guts for it.

  21. Patrick Carvalho says:

    A rebel version of my self would not be very different from who I am now, but there would be a few differences. For starters the rebel me would most likely be decked out in all leather, with the typical spike belt, and harley davidson. Not all rebels are bikers but that is what comes to my mind when I think of the word. Not only would the rebel me be in biker gear he would also not care about any repercussions, which is something I can’t do since I tend to think things through before doing. The rebel me would do things just to do them and not worry about what would come from his actions. The rebel me would pretty much be a badass. If the rebel me was real he would probably be roaming around the country state to state on his motorcycle with not a care in the would. He would be traveling with no set place to be. As for what he would be doing he would probably just be getting by off the little money he had, but he wouldn’t care as long as he had the road ahead of him and his motorcycle. If only I could someday meet the rebel me we would balance each other out perfectly.

  22. Jason Wesolowski says:

    The rebel version of myself would be a guitar player, like myself, who actually pursued a career in music. It has always been a dream of mine to stop school and dedicate my life to writing music and playing guitar. I would move to California and live a peaceful life on my own trying to strike it in the music industry. I wouldn’t care what people thought of my music or how much money i was making, as long as i was happy with my music. I would skate and surf the days away getting inspiration for songs in the warm California sun. As long as i would have my guitar i would make due with my life and be happy. I would also try to observe and learn from my musical inspirations John Frusciante, Michael Einziger, and Elliot Smith if he were still alive. They are true guitar geniuses and inspirations.

  23. Liesl Blum says:

    I think a little more of the rebel version of myself has come out in the last year or so. Throughout middle school and most of high school I was usually fairly quiet and kept to myself other than when I was with my good friends. The rebel version of myself would not care what anyone else thought. I would speak my mind and put myself out there and I wouldn’t be uncomfortable. I would go have fun and not care about anything else. The rebel version of me would be in a band touring the country, not in school and be completely carefree. Thinking about how my rebel self would be, its probably good that only a few parts of it shine through because I’m not so sure rebel me would do so well in the world.

  24. Lindsey Cohen says:

    When I imagine my rebel-self, I see someone who does not have a care in the world. She would say whatever she wanted and do whatever she felt was okay. To some extent I do not care what others have to say about me because it is ultimately my life but at the same time, I monitor the things I say and do. My rebel self is that voice inside my head. It is that little devil peering over your shoulder. Usually, I choose to ignore that devil-ish side but the rebel version of me would mimic that shoulder. She would not think twice about her actions and the consequences that come along with them. She would be fearless and invincible

  25. Conor McGuckin says:

    If I completely let loose my inner rebel, my typical morning would look like this…
    Looking into the mirror and couldn’t help but notice that my scruff looked particularly badass today, portraying the perfect combination of “I don’t care” and “I know I look good”. After spiking my hair and sliding down the railing, I grabbed my five year-old brother’s buttered toasted out of his hand. Eating it right in front of him, he started to pout, explaining how long it had taken him to spread the butter. As he continued, I turned on my iPod and repeatedly dipped my fingers into his juice. His cry increased, So I told him that Santa wasn’t real and walked out the door. I arrived at Drexel and instead of going to my 9 A.M. calculus class I went to the gym. Someone was using my squat rack so I drank his water bottle. After an intense work out, I went to music department and continued to play drums, hogging the practice for the next few hours.
    My inner rebel is sadistic, and simply doesn’t care about anyone else. He doesn’t apologize, and he never regrets. Although these qualities inherit negative connotations, It’s important for all of to let out the inner rebel in order to stay sane and at times even live with ourselves. At times we must break rules so that they don’t break us.

  26. Andrew Chau says:

    There have been plenty of things that I dreamed of being, e.g. a doctor, lawyer, astronaut, etc. A rebel was not one of them. Why? Monetary reasons. Rebels just don’t make much money, simple as that.
    In order to be a rebel, the clothing is a necessity. There are only two things required to be a rebel. It has been defined by all movies with rebels and a black leather jacket. The second would be a copious amount of oil to grease up my hair. Both of these things have been defined by West Side Story, the quintessential movie for a rebel/gangster. Not really quintessential, but it’s the only movie that I can recall off the top of my head. So I decided to go with that.
    If I were a rebel, I would do whatever I pleased without a single care, including breaking rules. I would loiter wherever I want, including areas of high human traffic and outside of stores. I would step foot inside areas declared “No trespassing”. I would walk across fresh, cleanly cut flowers and grass with clearly marked “Please Do Not Walk on This Grass”. The man and his rules can’t keep me down.
    Oh? Breaking seriously laws? Nah. I may be a rebel, but I am not an idiot. I want to be able to see sunshine for the next 30 years.

  27. Giovanni Adiletta says:

    Like everyone else in the world I encounter people that I do not get along with or to be more blunt, annoy me. Most of the time when someone does something that directly irritates me, I usually just forget about it because I believe the confrontation is not worth. The rebel me would totally give them what they deserve that tell them how I feel, without worrying about the fact that I am probably going to see them again when I’m cooled down, and that it would then be awkward. The rebel me would probably be in a lot of trouble right now.

  28. Tracey Young says:

    As The Rebel, I would sleep during the day and wreak havoc at night. Classes wouldn’t deserve to be attended, and school and society’s needs wouldn’t matter. My needs would be more important, and in the dark night, I would eat and play video games and read. People might come out of their rooms to see what the noise is, but all they would see is a monster in a blanket-nest singing random songs, mumbling, and making lots of strange noises as suited to my fancies. The world might burn around me, but I wouldn’t care. I would probably laugh and throw in a few more torches to help feed the fire.

  29. Anonymous says:

    Evan Ostrow said…

    Meet the rebel Evan. A crazed individual with a huge anger managment problem. Insulting him or even using the wrong tone is like a death wish. Walking down the leaf cover philly streets in the fall you see him. A huge black shape with a hoodie so big he appears to be the grim reaper.
    “Hey buddy how ya doin’?” you say cheerfully.
    “Are patronizing me? You bastard!” says the icy voice of death. Light flashes off the blade of a sythe as it slices through the air closing distance. Heads roll back and forth between moving masses, existing solely to piss Evan off. Blood spurts everywhere blending in with the fall leaves. Like the leaves his enemies fall. By winter his opposition is no more.

  30. Krupa Khatri says:

    It was hard to ignore the shouting of the protestors. I was on my way to the library, but I was distracted by the group of protestors. Even during the cold, windy day, the protestors surrounded the bell-tower, determined to be heard. A protestor climbed up the edge of the bell-tower. He shouted something and the crowd shouted back. This continued until the speaker became serious. I stood outside the circle of people, watching the protestors and observers react to the man’s frustration. People shouted, cheered, and condemned the one-percent. Others watched and criticized. Sure, the group was loud, but I thought their commitment was admirable. There was something compelling about their passion. I couldn’t look away. My rebel self would join the protestors. I would support causes I care for. I would protest, not caring how chaotic things get. I wouldn’t let the weather, school work, or other obstacles stop me. I would be relentless.

  31. Bekah Smith says:

    He walks onto the Broad Street Line at 4:10 when he sees her. For some reason, the second his foot left the platform and connected with the metal surface of the train floor, his eyes were drawn to where she sat.

    With one skinny-jean-clad leg slung over the other, her scuffed brown boots tapping on the floor, she’s in some distant place inside her head, lost in the music that meanders from her iPod through her ear buds. His eyes wander from her black bomber jacket to the swirls of ink imbedded in the skin of her wrist. She doesn’t seem to care about how some people would think her cleavage suggests she’s slutty, or that the chipped black polish on her nails hints at laziness or at a desperate attempt to be seen as “cool”. But he doesn’t see that. He gets the feeling that she isn’t one to follow others. He sees her as a black sheep, the girl who, with boundless confidence, doesn’t follow the path of others.

    In her lap rests a notebook, worn and filled with ink and graphite. It’s a haven for her skill, where she currently is scribbling away at an impressive drawing. In his head, he thinks, “she must be an art major”. He thinks of how he’s going to school to be a doctor, the dream his parents always had for him. They enjoy the idea of it, the idea of stability, of money, of the reputation. They get to tell people, “My son is going to be a doctor”, and feel an enormous pride, but he doesn’t feel it. He knows his life will be boring, without risks, without passion. He sees this girl and knows her life is filled to the brim with passion. She does what she wants, regardless of what is safe. Medicine is safe. The art world is not.

    He notices her ambiguity. Her skin is too light to be black, but too dark to be white. Her lips are crimson, hair a mass of dark ringlets that envelope her face. And her eyes, hazel surrounded in thick eyeliner that on anyone else would make them look overdone, but it suits her. Then they flicker towards him and devour him. She’s looking at him, and immediately his face is a flush. He’s hot and cold at the same time, and she sees it. She sees his embarrassment, and smiles. A smirk, and then she’s back into her notebook, diving back into the depths of her own world.

    At the next stop, she collects her things, puts her notebook back in her bag and throws it over her shoulder. She stands, holding onto the pole, when suddenly, she’s beside him, whispering to him. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it wasn’t polite to stare?” Then she’s gone, off the train at the Cecil B Moore stop.

    In some alternate universe, this girl is me. In this other place, I have a confidence that radiates from me like electricity, a confidence that makes me intriguing and enticing. I do what makes me happy, and hardly let the little things make me neurotic. In some alternate universe, I have the courage to dress, act, say what I want, even to strangers, because in that place, I don’t give a fuck what they think.

  32. Lilly Kuriakose says:

    Not think about what my parents and family say and just go do something crazy. That’s what my rebel side wants to do. In my culture family is very important and they except you to do everything right like get a good education and marry a guy that you’re family will approve of. Well, my rebel side wants to go have fun and do crazy things like get a tattoo, go out and party all night, and fall in love with someone without worrying if my family will be ok with it. But one thing that I really want to do is bungee jumping. The real me would not do this because just thinking about it would give me a heart attack. But for my rebel side it’s a great experience to get your worries out of your mind and forget about everything for a minute. The weird thing is that no one would expect me out of all the people to say this because in real I am such a shy and quiet person. No one would ever think I would want to do such things and the real me probably won’t but I really wish I could go bungee jumping though because that’s something that I’m really scared of but also really want to experience.

  33. Eric Werbin says:

    From elementary school on, I was the nerd of my class. That alone compared to my school’s athletic emphasis made me an outcast and rebellious against the norm. I never took part in any of the pep rallies that occurred in my high school because it was loud, obnoxious, and it was only useful for the people who “needed a boost to get through their school” as quoted by the principal. They were noisy times where nothing got done and the team lost the games anyway. I joined the news team so that I could get out of the gymnasium and away from the rest of the school, so that I never had to take part in a sport event for the rest of my high school career. Today, the rebel in me makes itself more known, being a nerd just to prove that I can triumph from a school with a negative atmosphere. He is currently looking back at his childhood with the older cartoons, as well as the new.

  34. Ray Seibert says:

    The rebel version of myself is sleeping right now as I write this early in the morning, but not alone. Because my rebel self has the courage to tell the guy he likes that he loves him, and the audacity and perseverance to get noticed. And when he wakes up the next morning he will go to Occupy Philly and be the loudest one chanting. He will spend time with his friends in the afternoon, and have no fear of speaking his mind when politics comes up. He will have no fear on stage, and confidence enough in his singing voice to try out for chorus, and the Drexel theater program. He will have the courage to face his problems head-on, instead of ignoring or avoiding them.

  35. Nima Karvar says:

    When I think of the rebel version of myself, I think of me simply not listening to my parents. They want me to work my hardest in school and do my best to get the most out of life. If I was to act like a rebel, I would not listen to my parents. I would do nothing in college and waste their money, get bad grades, and not care about life. I would rebel against society and what other people want me to do and just do whatever I want. In the short run, it is relaxing and nice, but this will screw me over in the long run.

  36. Charles Cramer says:

    My rebel self? I’m in love with my girlfriend, and I spend almost every weekend with her. Life is great! We both love each other we are living together in an apartment, not struggling to get by, but getting by scraping every penny we earn towards food and rent. Our apartment isn’t anything special, just our own love nest. It has 1 bedroom and 1 bathroom, the kitchen is small but will suffice for our needs. This is, what seems to me, be the best! Falling in love and having the girl, whose parents always said “Stay away from him,” remain by my side forevermore. We are living happily ever after it seems. Every day is just another day to where I can hold her, kiss her, doing what we wish, and nothing more!

  37. Edric Garcia says:

    It was a typical Wednesday afternoon. The sun was a the jellowy yolk of an egg, floating in the sea of albumen high above the earth. Edric had just been conned into buying another overpriced textbook for a class that would in no way help with his future major. However, this time he chose to retaliate. Edric first tried to be peaceful and return the book, but as usual the university policy was made in a way so that returning anything would be nearly impossible. The plan was made. The night had come. Edric walked over to the Barnes and Noble book store, the moonlight glinting off of his circular sports watch. 4am. The campus was barren as if it had long been abandoned years ago. The quiet streetlights flickered back and forth as usual, undeterred by the fact that they serviced no one. The sidewalk was cool and thankful for the break from an endless torrent of people. It did not mind that only one stranger walked silently onward, and it knew not to ask questions. Edric had arrived at the bookstore, and immediately went toward the back door. The tape was still door, barely noticeable but did the job well. Edric slunk inside the store. Without hesitation, Edric took out his hatchet and began destroying every book in sight. Pages fluttered about the room happy to be free from the spines that bound them. Shelves were relieved at being able to lie down after years of standing. The entire place had been through a very angry storm of injustice and deceit. The next afternoon, Edric awoke and got ready for the day. “Hey Edric” said his roommate and good friend Von, “Did you hear about what happened to the Bookstore?” Edric thought for a while and let out a small smile, “No, he replied.”

  38. Holly Osifat says:

    My rebel self is just me roaming around doing whatever i want. There’s no rules I have to follow, no one i have to please and an endless amount of time to do what I want.

  39. Meghan Hall says:

    My rebel self does not give a care about school work and studying. My rebel self is out having fun with her friends without a care in the world.

  40. Tess Drudy says:

    The game was tied.. 1 to 1. These girls thought they knew who was stepping onto their field. They smirked as our yellow bus with the words “Pittsburgh Public Schools” pulled up to their million dollar stadium. Their team of 40 watched the 20 of us walk toward them with our mismatching bags and the words Schenley Soccer written on our backs. Ready for an easy win, they made a joke out of their warm ups. They knew we were Schenley High School. They knew we were from the city. They knew we were half their size. What they didn’t know… is that we were THE Schenley High School, 3 time defending city champions. We came with something to prove and we were ready prove every single suburb snob in that stadium wrong.
    When half time rolled around and they weren’t in a ten point lead, or even winning for that matter, these girls were pissed. They were embarrassed, shocked, and looked just plain stupid. We maintained possession for almost the entire first half. Not only that but we scored on them. My coach always used to say, “There are two ways to gain a goal.. to be handed it or to take it.” We were not by any means handed that goal. We worked our asses off as a team to get through every single one of those girls to that net and we full on scored. They had their goal handed to them. Our defense made a mistake and we gave them that point. But we were determined to make up for it and they could see it in their eyes. They were scared shitless. After our half time water break and pep talk it was back to game time. About five minutes into the second half, my friend got a break away and was taking the ball right to the net, when some girl decided to grab her hair and pull her back. My friend fell to the ground and the ref acted like he didn’t see a thing.
    We.
    Were.
    Pissed.
    I wanted to smack that girl’s face right off. But we all knew us fighting her would do nothing but prove all their negative thoughts about us right. So we controlled our temper, played the game right, and beat their asses.
    Happy Ending. Good wins over evil. But their was always that part of me that wishes I would have walked up to that girl and punched her right in the face for touching my friend. I wanted the rebel in me to come out and fight for justice.. that game would have gone aloooot differently if I had.

  41. Charlotte Bader says:

    The rebel version of myself is would have numerous tattoos. I would also have a boyfriend with a motorcycle. I would also have a motorcycle because I wouldn’t be that girl on the back of her boyfriends motorcycle. Mine would have a little doggy cart that attaches to the side for my english bull dog. His name would be Clark and he would wear a studded leather collar. My hair would be jet black and i would have my eyebrow pierced. I would be super cool and I would say anything that came to my mind, without caring about the consequences of my words.

  42. The rebel inside of me is mostly tucked away. I keep it away because I was brought up to keep it there. It does come out when I become Angry and can’t control the beast that is raging inside of me I can’t hold it in and I say something rude to a vulgar person. I lose my composure and I the wall of hatred is released and comes out like a broken damn. I become not myself anymore. It’s as if I am Dr. Jackal and Mr Hide. I am fine the its as if my vision turns red and consumes all parts of me that say this is a bad idea. I continue to let the rage out and then when it’s all out I turn back into my old self. My rebel inside of me consumes every part of me when it is let lose.

  43. Anonymous says:

    Tyler said:
    This may come as a sharp contrast to my reply to last week’s post about being mad, but I am also some sort of a romantic. As I write this post, I realize how embarassing saying all of this could be to me. That doesn’t really matter though, it’s who I am.
    My ‘rebellious side’ is more of a romantic side that throws caution to the wind. I’m in love with an amazing girl, and I’m pretty sure she knows that and loves me too, but my conservative side is too scared to ruin what we have going. I’ve always been told, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” so I apply that theory to this relationship. Trust me, nothing is wrong with what I’ve got going on right now. We’re best friends, and they say best friends make the best couples, or something like that. So I’m more than happy whenever I spend time with her, but when I’m not with her she’s always on my mind. Maybe that’s what love is, I certainly don’t know. In this case love is definitely not a blank score in a tennis match. So as I sit around and day dream about her and the couple we could be, the way I could sweep her off of her feet. If I acted on the rebel inside me, I’d kiss her the next time I see her. But I’m not that rebel, so I’m perfectly content with letting things happen.

  44. Garrett Baker says:

    realistically I picture my “rebel-self” not so different than me, but with more confidence in actually doing rebellious things. I chicken out doing rebellious things a lot when i get a rebel impulse. But the rebel version of myself has no problem carrying out those impulses. The rebel version of me has come out on occasion, such as when I got a tattoo without my parents specific approval. But it didn’t turn out as “badass” as I thought because they weren’t even mad about it. So my inner rebel does come out sometimes, but I find that the results of the rebellious behavior aren’t “destructive” enough to deem myself a rebel.

  45. David Sadlowski says:

    Honestly I believe I’m a rebel every second of my life. I know when there is a time to respect something, and a time to rebel something. i am my own person, so i will always believe what i want to believe. I do not let one person impact how I think because I know that I will always believe what seems true to me. There are also times when I do not like something, so I do what I want to do. That’s the type of mentality i will always have though, but I’m not one of those people who rebels just to be in the scene, I rebel for what I stand for and what I think is true

  46. Al Germann says:

    I am non-confrontational. I’d rather let someone else deal with a problem than get involved. Now i’m not saying I wouldn’t stand up for myself, or someone else, but I’d rather not. I’m the kid who sits in the back of the room hoping someone else will ask the question that on my mind, and if they don’t, then it’s no big deal really. But sometime, and this happens to everyone I know it, sometimes you run into “that asshole”. You know, that guys who just a dick, he acts obnoxiously, hes loud, he blows smoke in your face, he steals your bike, he beats yo- ok, you know what I mean. That happens to everyone, or maybe YOU’RE that dude. In that case, screw you. But to carry on, sometimes you meet that person and you really just want to lash out, just give him whats comin’ to him.

    But you don’t. Or at least I don’t. I never have,whenever I do It’s such a strange feeling, I get flushed and hot and really energized. Telling people off is exciting, it really is.
    So wheres the rebel inside me?

    He’s inside me, not hiding, just comfortably inside me. I like him where he is, because I like to think of myself as a friendly person, and frankly if I acted like my rebel wanted to me to all the time I might not be so friendly.

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