While I've been trapped in a bit of a sexless, dry spell for the past two years, I am, however, in a long-term, monogamous, parasocial relationship with popular youth culture due to my chronic failure at livin' it up as a typical teenage girl. I never had a boyfriend. I never went to a traditional rager at a friend's house while their parents were away for the weekend, and because I rounded out my extended high school career at an alternative school with a population of 80 students from various disadvantageous walks of life, I never had the opportunity to go to prom.

In a moment of heightened, unadulterated passion, I would take her acoustic guitar and smash it atop her head, knocking her unconscious. That said, it wasn't completely out of character for me to fall in love with the short-lived MTV reality television series, Taking the Stage. Created by ex-98 Degrees leading man, Nick Lachey, this show documented the interpersonal relationships of “talented” teenagers at a performance art high school in Cincinnati, Ohio (notable birth place of both Cincinnati Chili and Jerry Springer's stint as mayor). I was particularly smitten with songstress/student, Mia Carruthers, and how she was going about launching her music career all wrong.

After two seasons of minor MTV-induced “fame,” Mia has yet to land a proper record deal, and I can only attribute this to her penchant for making music in a generic pop/rock way that just isn't “relevant” right now. If I were her manager, I would first invite her over to the sunless warren that is my parents' basement under the guise of a “business meeting.” We would discuss her “image” and I would ask her to serenade me with “Naked Eye” by 90s all-girl alt-group Luscious Jackson, and then proceed to hatefuck her on the sectional couch. In a moment of heightened, unadulterated passion, I would take her acoustic guitar and smash it atop her head, knocking her unconscious. When she would come to, hours later, we would record a cover using Pro Tools, upload it to MySpace, and watch it go viral.

Mia Carruthers photo MySpaceWhile the downfall of Luscious Jackson was that they tried to do too much in only three full- length albums, blurring too many genres into a melting pot of what I like to call “trip hop lite,” enough time has passed that a re-working of “Naked Eye” coming out of Mia Carruthers' mouth could actually be a minor Internet radio hit.

There are a lot of things I regret doing during my manic episode of fall 2006, and one of them just so happens to be the chronic listening of Luscious Jackson in my darkest/most vibrant hours. After my delusional haze cleared with the implementation of 900 mgs of lithium to my diet, I quickly reset my Last.fm account due to a debilitatingly high level of shame. According to iTunes, by the end of that year, the song “Ladyfingers” had clocked in at just under 300 plays, and at the time, was just a cross too heavy for me to bear in my “recovery” period. Other regrets include tormenting a 25-year-old former Nerve.com blogger with the surname “Jackson,” from a hotel room in Niagara Falls. I would facetiously describe her body as “luscious” after she sent me photos of herself in a cheap, animal print bra.

The terror of being bipolar and living with another bipolar person is the fact that inevitably, your fluctuating moods eventually rub off on each other. In the spring of 2006, a few months before graduating high school, I was in a mixed state of hypomania and mild-to-moderate depression. My mother was going through an especially rough patch on account of me and threatened to “leave” my father and me and never look back. She dramatically threw together a suitcase on wheels courtesy of Daily Keno and did leave. For two hours. When she returned, in tears, she said she couldn't start her new life as a single lady without me and so the two of us drove the scenic route to Niagara Falls, Ontario, suicide capital of the world, to play out our interpretation of the 1995 film, Leaving Las Vegas. The only difference, instead of plotting to drink ourselves to death like Nicolas Cage's character, Mother was aiming for financial ruin at the casinos and I chose the more subtle, death by Internet terrorism approach.

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