IN TERMS OF Seattle's current music scene, looking back, grunge was sort of like that big, doofy-looking quiet kid who grew faster than the rest of the class. By the time he graduated, he was fucking huge. But while the guidance counselors were paying too much attention to those they deemed "creative" and/or "brilliant," those whose lofty choices would look good in the alumni newspaper, nobody gave a flying fuck about that big guy.

Until they had to. Then, they reverted to their adolescent, rebellious ways and made fun of him. They stuck their noses in the air and turned their backs, pretending not to be the least bit envious or jealous. "Don't talk to us--what you do has nothing to do with us!" they said, conveniently ignoring the fact that it all came from the very same spring of creativity.

This include-us-out (to corrupt Yogi Berra even further) attitude is something Seattle's music scene is still struggling to grow out of, having not yet learned that just because the family spawned a big, overgrown Pearl Jam doesn't mean that the "creative" of the clan won't get the recognition they deserve (just ask Sonic Youth about New York). Conversely, it also doesn't mean that the "brilliant" will get any more recognition than they deserve, and therein lies the biggest problem. Do you want attention, or do you want to languish in obscurity? Do you want to get only a little bit of attention, but still not have to work a day job? Do you want all the luxuries, but only as long as all the "embarrassing" fanfare doesn't come along with it? Do you want to go to the University of Washington or do you want to go to Yale? Time to make a decision: Adulthood is just around the corner.