Holy Fuck, We're Old.
So old, in fact, that I seem to be limited to weekly blogging. Sort of like how married people become limited to weekly snogging. HA! I made a funny! Yes, I know my sporadic posting is probably a bit annoying to those few of you who rely on me for entertainment on occasion--I apologize--I promise it will get better. Probably once summer finally ends and we're all back to spending countless dreary hours staring at our four walls.
So it appears "we"--meaning, those people with whom I am most likely to associate--are either approaching it, or have already survived it.
The 20-year high school reunion.
Did you just throw up in your mouth a little bit?
Dawn just posted about attending hers, and I've been considering mine for a while. As an alum of the Lafayette High School (Go, Irish) class of 1990, I've still got a couple of years. (Which may be enough time to finally figure out why a school with a French name chose the "Fighting Irish" as their mascot--or not.) It may also be enough time to decide whether or not I want to go.
My high school was small--92 in our graduating class, I believe. It wasn't like my husband's (and David Cook's) where people crossed the stage at commencement that he'd never met before. That said, it's not like we were a real tight-knit bunch. There were cliques. And I belonged to the one comprised of rejects that didn't really belong anywhere else. I guess you could categorize us as the "drama club nerds," but there were only three of us that were really that into the drama club. Maybe the "honors nerds," but two of us weren't in the honors program. Most likely we'd be categorized as the "kids who are so fucking mean to everyone--including each other--that no one else can stand to be around them for more than an hour." Yes, that would probably be accurate.
My friends were mean as hell. Which could explain why we all went our separate ways not long after the caps and gowns were shed and have avoided each other like the plague ever since.
Shanon married her high school boyfriend, squeezed out several kids (I'm thinking four, but maybe it was only three), and now lives within walking distance of my parents' house.
Marc became a practicing bisexual, spent years heavily involved in local community theatre, and last I heard, worked as a social worker.
Jenny married the guy she dated in high school (who she broke up with senior year and didn't get back together with until a few years later, after he'd had sex with me and countless other women), had a kid, and opened a dance studio. (I hear she gets very disturbed at the mere mention of my name, which I find strange--but I seem to have that effect on a lot of women from my home town.)
Tam graduated from a prestigious private college, moved to Philly and became a power dyke. I think she's the one I miss most of all. We met in kindergarten and were staunch rivals (for "smartest kid in the class" status, of all things) until high school when I stopped giving a shit about my grades and took up drinking for sport. We always shared a bizarre sense of humor and could spend hours making each other laugh.
And me--Queen of the Burbs, rockin' the mommy gig with my two boys, my young hot trophy husband, and my mediocre job.
How the hell has it been 20 years already???
When my mom's 20th rolled around, I was 18 (and had graduated a year prior). I remember her commenting that it was so much fun because after 20 years, no one was trying to impress anyone anymore.
I don't know if the same can be said for my own generation. I think we'll die trying to impress someone else. Which is why I'm not sure I even want to revisit that crap by attending a reunion.
It's not that I fear I won't measure up. No, I'm not the most wildly successful from our class, but I'm far from the least. It's more a matter of change. I'm hardly the same person I was 20 years ago, but the people I went to school with have never been able to let go of the past. In their eyes, I will always be the suicidally depressed, slightly scary, smart but unmotivated, slutty, socially awkward girl who wore a lot of black and thrift store clothes, did most of the school plays and had a boyfriend who thought he was a vampire.
I'm not suicidally depressed anymore (thankfully). I suppose I'm still slightly scary, though I'm not sure why. I'm still smart but unmotivated. I guess I'm still slutty, but I limit my sluttiness to one dude. I'm still socially awkward and that will never change. I still wear a lot of black because I'm color impaired and have a very hard time matching things and live in fear of once again finding out that brown skirt I've been wearing is actually green. (Yes, that really happened.) I still shop in thrift stores. I haven't been on stage since 2001. And my husband has never, ever thought he was any sort of mythical creature.
I've done a lot of living in the last 20 years. But I'm not sure that's all something I necessarily want to share with those people, if that makes any sense. Because they'll just take my experiences and try to make them fit the mold they created for me years and years ago. When the truth is, those experiences broke that mold.
Or maybe I'm just getting waaaaay too philosophical about what is, essentially, some stupid party with a bunch of people I haven't seen in 20 years.
At any rate, I'm not going unless I'm thin.
So it appears "we"--meaning, those people with whom I am most likely to associate--are either approaching it, or have already survived it.
The 20-year high school reunion.
Did you just throw up in your mouth a little bit?
Dawn just posted about attending hers, and I've been considering mine for a while. As an alum of the Lafayette High School (Go, Irish) class of 1990, I've still got a couple of years. (Which may be enough time to finally figure out why a school with a French name chose the "Fighting Irish" as their mascot--or not.) It may also be enough time to decide whether or not I want to go.
My high school was small--92 in our graduating class, I believe. It wasn't like my husband's (and David Cook's) where people crossed the stage at commencement that he'd never met before. That said, it's not like we were a real tight-knit bunch. There were cliques. And I belonged to the one comprised of rejects that didn't really belong anywhere else. I guess you could categorize us as the "drama club nerds," but there were only three of us that were really that into the drama club. Maybe the "honors nerds," but two of us weren't in the honors program. Most likely we'd be categorized as the "kids who are so fucking mean to everyone--including each other--that no one else can stand to be around them for more than an hour." Yes, that would probably be accurate.
My friends were mean as hell. Which could explain why we all went our separate ways not long after the caps and gowns were shed and have avoided each other like the plague ever since.
Shanon married her high school boyfriend, squeezed out several kids (I'm thinking four, but maybe it was only three), and now lives within walking distance of my parents' house.
Marc became a practicing bisexual, spent years heavily involved in local community theatre, and last I heard, worked as a social worker.
Jenny married the guy she dated in high school (who she broke up with senior year and didn't get back together with until a few years later, after he'd had sex with me and countless other women), had a kid, and opened a dance studio. (I hear she gets very disturbed at the mere mention of my name, which I find strange--but I seem to have that effect on a lot of women from my home town.)
Tam graduated from a prestigious private college, moved to Philly and became a power dyke. I think she's the one I miss most of all. We met in kindergarten and were staunch rivals (for "smartest kid in the class" status, of all things) until high school when I stopped giving a shit about my grades and took up drinking for sport. We always shared a bizarre sense of humor and could spend hours making each other laugh.
And me--Queen of the Burbs, rockin' the mommy gig with my two boys, my young hot trophy husband, and my mediocre job.
How the hell has it been 20 years already???
When my mom's 20th rolled around, I was 18 (and had graduated a year prior). I remember her commenting that it was so much fun because after 20 years, no one was trying to impress anyone anymore.
I don't know if the same can be said for my own generation. I think we'll die trying to impress someone else. Which is why I'm not sure I even want to revisit that crap by attending a reunion.
It's not that I fear I won't measure up. No, I'm not the most wildly successful from our class, but I'm far from the least. It's more a matter of change. I'm hardly the same person I was 20 years ago, but the people I went to school with have never been able to let go of the past. In their eyes, I will always be the suicidally depressed, slightly scary, smart but unmotivated, slutty, socially awkward girl who wore a lot of black and thrift store clothes, did most of the school plays and had a boyfriend who thought he was a vampire.
I'm not suicidally depressed anymore (thankfully). I suppose I'm still slightly scary, though I'm not sure why. I'm still smart but unmotivated. I guess I'm still slutty, but I limit my sluttiness to one dude. I'm still socially awkward and that will never change. I still wear a lot of black because I'm color impaired and have a very hard time matching things and live in fear of once again finding out that brown skirt I've been wearing is actually green. (Yes, that really happened.) I still shop in thrift stores. I haven't been on stage since 2001. And my husband has never, ever thought he was any sort of mythical creature.
I've done a lot of living in the last 20 years. But I'm not sure that's all something I necessarily want to share with those people, if that makes any sense. Because they'll just take my experiences and try to make them fit the mold they created for me years and years ago. When the truth is, those experiences broke that mold.
Or maybe I'm just getting waaaaay too philosophical about what is, essentially, some stupid party with a bunch of people I haven't seen in 20 years.
At any rate, I'm not going unless I'm thin.
posted by Mitzi Green at 8:10 PM
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