This is me. Relatively normal by most accords, I suppose, but on this night I am learning that normal is in the eye of the beholder, and that every scene has its characters. Some wear pastel colored polos, while others choose grungy concert T-shirts. A character in one scene might recite poetry between drags of a cigarette, while another may thrash, bang and fight in their own.\nBut on this night, my scene is the Axis of Evil. It's a gathering of punks, goths and any other mislabeled misfit desperate for the type of night every college aged person yearns for. A night where they can be themselves.\nFor the purpose of this story, the following contextual and symbolic rules apply:\nThis is the scene. Slightly slanted to the eye, but overall understandable.\nThese are the characters. Bold in appearance, but again, perfectly relatable.\nAnd this is the story. Just another Monday night at Jake's Nightclub with some of the most abnormally normal people in Bloomington.
The crowd is still forming when a man in a black suit, black pants and black shoes walks up the steps of the stage to position himself in front of a computer. Working his hands behind the monitor and over a flat, black box to his left, a gentle roar becomes audible from the dozens of speakers around the room. It sounds kind of like a jet plane warming up its engines, and then slowly fading out. Replacing the jet engine is a dreamy, organ-like sound that would ring almost angelic to the ears if it wasn't for its descending nature. As the organ sound methodically distances itself, thunderous foot stomps enter the room with a rustled breathing noise behind them. The sounds seem to be getting closer, louder, heavier, scarier. As the dreamy organ disappears, a steady, rhythmic clicking begins -- it sounds like somebody walking on tile floor in tap shoes. This all continues for about a minute or so, with everybody anxiously awaiting an excuse to start shaking and stomping. Just then, the speakers blast as if a garbage truck just violently crashed onto the middle of the dace floor. There's crunching and grinding as the beat picks up. Everything gets faster and louder, heads start bobbing, hips shaking, feet stomping and the night has begun.
Libby Bulloff went to North Central high school in Indianapolis, where she was "normal looking" as she describes it today. Understand that on this night she's wearing black leather boots, black pants and a black undershirt covered by a bright green corset. Where her hair generally projects from her head is a bright, shiny mass of neon green glow tubes and ribbons. Her hair is "normally" dyed red.\nShe grew up an extroverted artist in a household of conservatives. She painted and played in jazz band, but she never felt like she belonged.\n"I was always an oddball," she said. "And as far as oddballs go, there are the ones people like, and the ones that everybody makes fun of. I was the second."\nWhen she came to IU in 2000, she discovered goths on the internet. She felt the clothing to be "creepy, yet beautiful." Eventually she "came out of the dark closet," as she put it, but she still worried about frightening her "normal" friends.\nWith time Libby met more people like herself, and started feeling more and more like just that -- herself. One of those people she met was Willow Brugh, who you'll meet later. And during a lonely night last January, the two grew tired of avoiding the "more mainstream" Bloomington venues. So they rallied their troops, suited up for a night on the town, and marched into Axis Nightclub (the former name of Jake's).\n"We put our fist in the air and prepared for a fight," she said. "But everybody was really nice. We danced all night and had a great time."\nThat night the DJ played a song for the girls, and the kindness inspired Willow to talk to the manager about organizing one night a month where more people like her and her friends could come out and feel comfortable amongst the masses. He agreed, and the Axis of Evil had begun.
Back at the scene, the music continues to blare as a line forms at the door. First enters somebody wearing a camouflage jacket and black pants with bright, silver zippers all over them. She is followed by a woman wearing a dark, see-through shirt that slightly shades the black bra below it. Atop her head rests a stovepipe top hat. The hat is followed by another see-through shirt, but this time it's a man beneath the mesh. He's got a large, white skull embroidered across his chest. Once that crew enters, a man pays his five dollars dressed in a three-piece suit -- black of course. Under the bill of his black fedora is a face as pale as the white collar that creeps up from below his coat. He wears a stern look on his face, and his darkly colored-in lips hardly fold a millimeter. That is, until he snaps his coat collars with the confidence of a prom king and steps toward the dance floor. Last to enter is a guy clad in grayish tinted corduroys with a dark blue button down Dockers shirt. He would easily be the most "normal" member of the bunch if someone spotted this motley crew outside the Union, but right now, he looks a bit strange.
Accenting Libby, in more ways than one, is Willow Brugh. She is the blue to Libby's green, and together they make Axis of Evil happen each month. Her short, spiky hair is dyed to match the ocean, and her thick, matching eye liner makes her appear equally as deep. Yet despite the wild colors, she carries a soft and reassuring voice that relaxes her listener. Again, an accent to Libby who welcomed the crowd this evening by thrusting her first in the air and shrieking "WOOO!" \nWillow's past also reflects a different type of adolescent outcast. Where Libby attended the largest high school in the state, Willow is from a tiny town and claims to have been the only "truly weird kid" in her class.\n"Everyone had their own group but me," she said. "But I still liked everyone."\nWillow always carried the support of her family growing up. For instance, when she came home and wanted blue hair, her mom went out and bought the dye and did the job for her. But despite the support, she claims to have never felt truly "at home" until she came to IU and met people like Libby. \n"I just needed to find others like me," she said. "People that just get what you're saying."\nShe hopes that events like Axis of Evil can help change the perception that most of the "normal" world has about goths, or punks, or whatever label is preferred. They're not depressed, mean, boring or anti-social. In fact, that's what nights like tonight are all about. Bringing like-minded people together in an environment where there is always something to talk about. Just instead of talking about sports, politics or members of the opposite sex, conversations might start with, "Hey, your hair lights up!" or "How did you make that spiky jewelry?"
Believe it or not, the only thing separating this scene from any other "normal" night at Jake's is the music and the fashion. A large group of people congregate around the bar, making small talk, while the dance floor slowly swells. First two, Willow and her boyfriend, but then two more, and two more. As less floor can be seen, brighter lights start to flash. Somehow, the sights and sounds are meshing. A strobe light zaps, and a fist shoots up. As a bass line slams, so do dozens of feet. Top hat girl grinds. Suit guy kicks. Libby talks as the music rages. Lights flash, and Willow shakes a hand. Dancing, bouncing, shaking and laughing. Stories and strobe lights. Everything is intense, yet perfectly serene. Something is happening to the scene. It's becoming cohesive. The characters are bonding. It's college kids enjoying themselves. Being themselves.
I left the bar, my normal self, thinking about the conversation I had just had with one of the DJs. He talked about how he drew inspiration from all sorts of music, from avante garde noise music to the Beach Boys. A fan of the Beach Boys, I found it interesting that he could take a splice of something, then twist it and contort it into a new creation completely unrecognizable.\nIt was about this time I passed Kilroy's Sports Bar and heard the song "Wouldn't It Be Nice" spilling out of the open doors. Next to those doors I saw three blonde girls smoking cigarettes in tight T-shirts. I thought to myself, "just three different characters in their own different scene." To them, I'm sure, it was just another normal night.\nThen one of the normal girls, in her normal scene, leaned over to her friend, drew her attention to the crowd outside Jake's and together they scoffed at weirdness down the road.\nI kept walking with that image, that song, that scene stuck in my head: "Wouldn't it be nice to live together? In the kind of world where we belong"
